Raven (Kindred #1)

by Scarlett Finn

  She had spent a large part of this week thinking about the outsider who had appeared in her bedroom, about his husky voice and musky scent. There hadn’t been a man in her bedroom for a long time and a man of his illicit skill and conceit had never been a feature in her life. But being enclosed in this space with him, on the road to an unknown location, her romantic notions about his intentions became suspicion.

  “You can call me Raven,” he said.

  Having his name was somewhat reassuring, but she needed more. “Are you here to hurt me? Where are you taking me?”

  “I’m gonna take you home,” he said. “After I show you something.”

  He didn’t answer the question about hurting her, but he’d claimed before that he wanted to protect her. When she glanced around, she saw no signs of a weapon, and there was a screen between her and the front seats too, so neither party could get to the other.

  Calming her fears, she wanted to probe deeper into who this person was and why he might be helping her. “Why do you trust me with your name now?”

  Ravens were an omen of death, so this new detail didn’t exactly settle her reservations about his character. She considered the idea that he only trusted her with his moniker because she wouldn’t have a chance to utter it to anyone else. That implied he was driving her to a secluded location in order to kill her, so she didn’t linger too long on that thought.

  “It’s not my name. It’s an alias,” he said, as cool as he had been before. “And you get it because you did as I said, you told no one about our meeting or about what happened with Tim.”

  Wondering how he could be sure of that, she didn’t refute his assumption and went with honesty. “I thought about telling Grant. He trusts me. But when I brought up his family, he shut down. He doesn’t have family. He lost his family when he was a teenager.”

  With what might have been a smirk in his tone, he ridiculed her statement. “I know what Grant’s public story is.”

  “His public story?”

  Making that distinction suggested that the story the world knew wasn’t the whole truth. Grant’s history was another thing about her boss that she hadn’t thought to question. The weight of contradiction was beginning to crush her. Nothing made sense anymore. She didn’t even know who to trust because she still didn’t know exactly what was going on or what her role was.

  “It’s not the truth. But that doesn’t matter now,” Raven said, maintaining his focus on the road up ahead.

  Intent on the job at hand, he didn’t waste any movement and exerted only as much energy as was required. In addition to that noted efficiency, she also observed how he conversed with her as though nothing else was going on, like driving was not a task worth concentrating on.

  “Why do you keep doing this? Showing up with the cloak and dagger theme?” she asked, seeing a chance, given that they were alone and he was unable to run away.

  “I’m not ready to give you the whole truth, not yet.”

  An unsatisfying response, yes, but a truthful one all the same. “So what’s the point of tonight?” she asked.

  “Just sit back and enjoy the drive.”

  The car was dark and although the screen between her and the front blocked most of her view of him, she observed his broad shoulders clad in a black shirt that came above the shoulders of the seat. His dark hair was shorter on the sides than on the top, and she detected that same musky masculine scent that he’d left in her bedroom.

  Peering up at the rear view mirror, she tried to get a better look through the dim light of the car. All she saw was the clear skin of his strong forehead and temple, with the occasional glimpse of the roots of his dark hair.

  She continued to gawk and he had to have somehow noticed because he leaned back and one long-lashed brown eye came into her view. The intensity in that half-stare pinned her to her own seat. The disapproving eye went away and they kept on driving.

  Her gumption had left her, meaning conversation stalled. This journey had a purpose and until she knew what it was, she didn’t want to ask more questions. Approaching the coast, they were a good twenty or thirty miles away from her apartment. They got to the cliffs at White Falls, the highest point of the coastline closest to the city, which was now just twinkling lights in their wake.

  He parked on the isolated cliff and pointed out to sea. “You see the blue light?”

  The shining blue light out in the dark swell of the invisible sea appeared to be adrift on the water. The blue glowed bright, comparable to a reflection of the brilliant shining moonlight, except it was too vivid and too close to the water to be a natural phenomenon. At the same moment that he pointed a broad finger out of the windshield, the light grew larger then dimmed.

  Intrigued at the sight he pointed out, all emotions gave way to intrigue. “What is that?” she asked, shifting forward to look through the screen between the headrests of the front seats.

  “It’s the manor.”

  “What manor?” she asked, fixated on the illumination. “Is the light coming from an island?”

  “It’s connected to the mainland, set out on a narrow peninsula. It’s all private land. Twenty miles south of the city. It’s McCormack Manor.”

  “What?” she asked, astonished by this admission. “I thought that was a myth. It’s abandoned. It has to be, doesn’t it? If Grant owned that land—”

  “He doesn’t own it, but it’s definitely there.”

  Transfixed by the blue light that glowed and dimmed in a rhythm suggesting a lighthouse or something similar, the motion was hypnotizing. “And why are you showing me? Have you been there?”

  He took a breath and his shoulders rippled. “I brought you here to prove to you that you don’t know everything there is to know about Grant McCormack. He’s a liar. His parents died in the stretch of water you’re looking at now. He was standing right here on this cliff and saw it happen with his own eyes.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked, trying to measure his sincerity, but he kept his eyes facing forward, meaning she wouldn’t be reading any of his expressions.

  Long fingered hands appeared on the steering wheel. Stretching his fingers around the leather cover, he seemed to enjoy tightening his fists around it. “I do my research. Grant hasn’t told you any of this, has he?”

  She and Grant didn’t have that kind of a relationship, not one that involved long intimate discussions about their families and their pasts. What she knew of him beyond their day-to-day encounters at work came from the media and corporate materials.

  “No, that’s so personal,” she said, watching the blue light on the black expanse of sea swell and ebb until it vanished then returned. “I would never dream of asking about something like that.”

  “If your relationship with him isn’t personal, why should you tell him about a date you went on last week?” he asked. “Don’t give him all of your trust until he gives you his.”

  Confused by these new facts while fighting to marry them with the old ones, she closed her eyes and shook her head. “Do you think I need it?” she said. “I’m his assistant. He’s my boss.”

  So the point of this exercise was to break her trust in Grant and to make her question her loyalty to him. Zara had concluded herself that there was more to Grant than she’d considered. But Raven still hadn’t given her any reason to trust him.

  “Has he given you anything?” Raven asked. “Any new or unusual instructions?”

  She thought about what Grant had said about the second line and the man, Albert Sutcliffe, whom he expected to call. Raven’s abrupt question proved that he wasn’t interested in making sense of this for her, or even guiding her through it. He wanted information. Last week he’d told her he wanted her trust and this was an example of how he was going to obtain it.

  Shaking the foundations of her relationship with Grant wasn’t enough for her to turn on him. She still wanted to believe that her boss was a good man. He would have his reasons for getting involved in whatever was go
ing on and she wanted to believe that those reasons were just.

  Raven was hard to the point of insensitive. His manner betrayed that he didn’t have much patience or tact. Where he was from and his own motivations were difficult to decipher when he was so detached. Whatever he was doing here, he wasn’t happy about it, or maybe he just wasn’t happy about having to deal with her.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But I don’t trust you enough to reveal confidential corporate information.”

  “You don’t need to reveal it, not yet,” he said.

  Seeing a chance, she questioned him on something that had been plaguing her all week. “How did you know that Grant would be late back from New York on Monday?”

  “Because I knew he had a meeting… one that you knew nothing about.”

  Raven hadn’t been the one to sabotage her boss, so from that she’d guess it wasn’t his intention to hurt Grant. But this mysterious man had more knowledge than he was sharing.

  Being excluded from CI business, where Grant was concerned, was an experience she hadn’t had since her early years with the firm and she didn’t like it. “What meeting?” she asked.

  “What’s important is that you’re on guard.”

  She still didn’t understand why he wanted to protect her. “Why do you care if I’m on guard?”

  “Because if you get dead, Grant is gonna work harder to conceal his actions,” he said. “Before I bring you inside, I need to know if you’re capable of handling the pressure. This is gonna get complicated.”

  Protecting her was obviously only a byproduct of his need for information. He didn’t give her a heartfelt answer, just a matter of fact one, and one that suggested she was on a deadline. Once he had the information he wanted, he would no longer be interested in protecting her.

  “I still don’t know what’s going on,” she said, frustrated by all these half-answers and ambiguity. Putting the pieces together when you only had a few disparate parts of the jigsaw made seeing the whole picture impossible.

  “I have to go away for a few days,” he said. “When I get back, if you do as I’ve said and you’re still alive, then we can talk about what I need from you.”

  It took some amount of skill to be completely unaffected by a person so completely adrift. Any hope that he might extend her some compassion and reassure her was lessened every time he spoke.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” she murmured.

  “You will, Zara. You are capable of staying alive through this, as long as you trust me. I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”

  “Safe from what?” she asked, resting her fists on the Perspex screen.

  “If I was to tell you that, you’d jump in the ocean and never come back.”

  Pursing her lips, she prevented herself from growling at him and considered that keeping her in the dark about the details might actually be his way of protecting her emotions, or at least protecting her from saying something to someone that might get her hurt.

  “Will I ever get a straight answer out of you or do you enjoy screwing with people’s heads?” she asked.

  His only response was to start the car and reverse in a curve to bring them back onto the road toward the city. As if this was a normal taxi ride, he drove in silence, ignoring his passenger. But he wasn’t being polite and giving her privacy, he was doing the mysterious thing again.

  If he was going out of town, then he wouldn’t be dropping in on her soon, so she decided to probe for more answers while she had the opportunity.

  “What do you do for a living?” she asked but received no response. “Do you live around here? Have a girlfriend?” He just kept on driving without answering her. Yapping out these questions, without receiving a reply from him, made her feel like an inconvenience. Yet, it was him who had picked her up, him who needed her. She only wanted answers because she’d feel better if she knew something about him and he’d have no chance of coaxing information out of her if she didn’t understand him. “You know, you’d have an easier job of gaining my trust if you told me something about yourself.”

  His inhale was silent, but the rushed exhale was loud enough to signal his irritation. “Yes, I live around here and no, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “And a job? What’s your job?”

  He paused before replying. “That’s a more complicated question. Now sit there and shut up. I’m just gonna ignore your fucking questions, which will piss you off again. Save yourself the hassle.”

  Accepting that she wasn’t going to get any more information out of him tonight, Zara spent the rest of the journey enjoying the ride because at least while she was with Raven, she was safe. She didn’t know much about him yet, but at least she could say nothing bad had happened to her while she’d been in his presence and these days that meant something.

  When he pulled up outside her apartment, he switched off the headlights but kept the engine running. “Record anything that you believe to be significant,” he said over his shoulder. “When I get back it will be useful to know Grant’s schedule, his routine.”

  For a shady character, she noted how he slipped from cursing and clipping his words to enunciating without missing a beat.

  Ensuring he knew her stance, she didn’t leave him with any illusions. “You don’t have my trust yet,” she said. “I appreciate the ride, Raven. But you’re still a party of one.”

  Departing the cab, she knew it was important to portray confidence, because if he thought she was afraid of him, he would own her and may resort to harming her if he didn’t get what he wanted. So she didn’t look back.

  Questions consumed her. She didn’t know anything about who this Raven guy was. Grant was anxious, which was out of character, and she was ignorant to the details. Figuring this out was going to be a frustrating process, but at least she had a name for Raven now. She was wiser this Friday than she had been last week and she speculated on what new revelations might be coming over the next week.

  FOUR

  Eight nights later, on a Saturday, she had to talk herself into going on a date with Julian Scanlon, one of the firm lawyers. He’d been pursuing her for a while and Zara didn’t feel much electricity with him, so she’d been doing her best to deflect his advances.

  But her encounter with Timothy still haunted her thoughts and taking the plunge with Julian was her attempt to get back to normality before she developed a complex about dating and was spooked for life. After their dinner, her opinion about Julian and their chemistry hadn’t improved, but she did feel a lot more relaxed about the general dating experience.

  “I had a great night,” Julian said upon exiting the restaurant, which wasn’t far from Purdy’s. His moist hand was sticky and uncomfortable in hers, but when Zara tried to withdraw, he tightened his hold. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Very well educated, his only flaw was an awkwardness that followed him in social situations.

  “Yes, it was a good night. The food was excellent,” she said, reaching for something positive to say.

  His brief laugh didn’t seem genuine. “Maybe next time we should try somewhere further from work,” he said.

  Julian’s idea of a date was not eating in a restaurant on the same avenue as their place of employment and he’d said as much when she suggested the eatery. He hadn’t voiced displeasure at her choice of apparel, but from the way his lip had curled as he looked her up and down, he made it clear he was unimpressed by her casual workwear of a loose short skirt and cowl neck top.

  Zara wasn’t in the habit of making herself out to be more than she was, but Julian was rich and successful, so he was probably used to women making more of an effort to impress him. But with Zara, what you saw was what you got and if he disliked her dedication to hard work then there was no chance of any relationship between them.

  That being said, he had been nothing but gracious and attentive all night, she couldn’t fault his manners. It wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t excited by him. “Yes,” she said, sh
owing remorse in the smile she flashed in his direction as they walked down the block. “Sorry, I had some work to finish this afternoon. Thanks for meeting me at the office.”

  A major bonus of dating a colleague was that he had security clearance to meet her at her desk. It also meant he’d have been background checked before taking his position, giving Zara some reassurance that he wasn’t deceiving her about his romantic interest.

  Julian drew them to a stop at the corner of the block. “Should we get a cab?” he asked.

  That implication prompted her to be more forceful in retrieving her hand, she wasn’t going to be rude, but she also didn’t owe him anything. “Actually, I still have some work to do.”

  Surprised, and probably offended, his mouth dropped open. “Work? It’s almost ten at night.”

  “Yeah, I’m a workaholic,” she joked, trying out a self-deprecating laugh. There were no pressing assignments, but Zara needed an excuse to refuse his request because returning to either his place or hers for a drink was the last thing she wanted to do when she wouldn’t be agreeing to see him again.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked, still unhappy with her declaration while not getting the subtle hint. “I’d like to continue our evening.”

  “Maybe another time,” she said, hoping the gentle letdown would work because she didn’t want an enemy at work.

  “You are a workaholic,” Julian said, agreeing with her earlier statement. “Grant works you too hard. I should talk to him about it.”

  Julian had no influence over Grant. In all honesty, her boss didn’t have many friends who did. He had associates and contemporaries, who he socialized with when the occasion called for it. Julian was not one of those men. He wasn’t in Grant’s inner circle at all. But it was nice of the conservative lawyer to imply that he cared enough to stand up for her if need be.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said, removing herself from him when he tried to get up close. “I’ll see you at work.”