“You keep doing that, you won’t get any sleep,” he mumbled before he yawned.
It had been a long night, he’d been working, and was tired. He was also just like every other man and would probably do whatever it took to avoid having “the conversation.” Still, there was no rush. She’d made headway by just being accepted into his home. For now, incremental progress would have to be enough.
Sleeping with Brodie was easy and waking up with his fingers playing inside her as his mouth sampled her neck was nicer. That happened twice through the night and she had ideas of waking him up in her own special way when morning came.
Except when it did and she woke up, she was alone. Brodie wasn’t in the bedroom, the bathroom or what she discovered was a walk-in closet. Taking a few minutes to examine his clothes, she learned he didn’t venture far from tee shirts, jeans, and hoodies though he had a few leather jackets as well.
One of the units in the closet was locked and required fingerprint authorization. She wondered if he had a Rolex collection or something similar that he wanted to protect. Most of the closet was empty, but if he was used to globetrotting, he probably got used to traveling light.
Being this close to his private possessions made her feel closer to the reality of who Brodie was. Glimpsing his underwear, his toothbrush, his shampoo, it was all so normal and yet he didn’t let anyone else this deep into his inner sanctum, so being able to touch these personal products made her feel special, valued, and grateful for his trust.
She showered and did her best with what she found in the bathroom to make herself presentable for the day. There was no way for her to dry her hair, but it was the weekend. She didn’t have to worry about work, so she could let her hair go a little crazy. It seemed the rest of her had. But she liked the new adventurous side of herself that Brodie brought out and she looked forward to pushing those boundaries even further.
Her stockings were gone. Her panties and bra were torn, so all she could put on was her skirt, shirt, and jacket. Examining her rumpled appearance in the bathroom mirror, she removed her jacket because it looked ridiculous to be so buttoned up when her clothes were crumpled and her hair was drying in its natural wave. But when she took it off, she was mortified to see the outline of her nipples through the sheer material of her shirt, so she put the jacket on again.
Having delayed the inevitable for long enough, she ventured into the hallway, and tried to remember which way to go. The bedroom door closed behind her and the click of the lock made her jump. The blue fingerprint pad secreted in the knob flashed, indicating that she was locked out, so she couldn’t go back inside even if she wanted to.
The first turn was easy because there were no other doors in this narrow section. She went to the end and turned right. But when she got into the next section, she wasn’t sure of what to do next. She tried a couple of doors and found a couple of different rooms, but no stairwell.
Trying further down the corridor yielded no results. When she began to panic about how long she’d spend getting lost before someone came across her, a door behind her opened and Art hung into the space wearing a smile.
“This way, girlie,” he said, holding the door open for her.
Grateful for his help, she went through the door and started down the stairs. “How did you know I was lost?” she asked over her shoulder. “I thought I was going to be wandering the house for hours.”
“Brodie turned on the motion sensors when he came downstairs,” Art said.
This statement made her pause, but Art passed her and continued to descend. Shocked that anyone had such high-tech security in their home, Zara speculated about the number of enemies these men had. “You have motion sensors?”
“Infrared too,” Art said, looking over his shoulder at her. “But he wouldn’t let us turn that on.”
“Us?” she asked.
Art had picked up speed on his descent, so she hurried after him, determined not to get lost again. Instead of going down just two flights, they went down four and she was about to question their destination when he pressed his thumb to the door in front of them and opened it to reveal a long black corridor, which ran in both directions.
“You can’t go wrong down here,” Art said, holding the door open for her.
Strips of electric blue light in the upper coving lit a series of black doors, which flanked this black space.
Once she absorbed the striking lack of features, she looked to Art. “What’s down here?”
“All of Brodie’s favorite rooms in the house. Though I guess if you stay over often enough that might change.”
He let the stairwell door close and put an arm around her shoulders to guide her down the corridor. “We have gyms and work out spaces. Shooting range, combat training, everything he needs. And of course,” Art said and stopped in front of a door that looked just like all the others to her. “Main security.”
He touched the panel by the door with his thumb and the door whooshed open. Inside was a large conference table with half a dozen chairs around it and a control desk that had at least forty different monitors in a bank in front of it.
“Wow,” she exhaled, amazed by all the blinking lights and the pictures on the screens showing various areas of the house as well as external images, from the grounds, and further afield. Periodically, the picture on each screen changed and she wondered just how many areas of the world they were capable of monitoring.
“Coffee?” he asked.
Art was already retrieving the coffee jug from the machine set up on a table near the door. She only half-nodded because she was still watching the pictures flashing on the screens. Approaching the control desk, she saw lots of buttons and lights as well as three built-in keyboards and she wondered what it all did. Looking back up at the color screens, she watched traffic building up on the main road perpendicular to CI, the picture changed and she saw the CI main entrance.
“You’re watching my work?” she asked, taking the coffee mug from Art when he came to her side.
“We watch everywhere,” he said. “We’re a small group, so technology helps us out a lot.”
“How do you afford all of this?”
“Inheritance and murderer for hire pays damn good.”
Another screen changed and the flicker caught her eye. When she recognized the picture, she stepped toward it and the shock of what she saw made her almost drop her coffee. “That’s my apartment.”
“Yep,” Art said. “The one in your bedroom goes straight to Brodie’s phone.” She whipped around ready to protest, but he laughed and held up a hand. “I’m kidding.”
“I thought he wasn’t watching anymore,” she murmured, turning back to the picture of her apartment. It was taken from outside the front of the building. The camera had to be set on the building opposite hers. But with her vast amount of windows, she could see right into the full panorama of her own living room.
Art leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I think it’s unlikely that boy will ever take his eyes off you.”
The sound of the door made her whirl around in time to see Brodie coming in with another man. Both of them were shirtless, glistening with sweat, and panting. From the way their hands were taped, she guessed that they’d been fighting, but she saw no bruises or blood, so she hoped it was all in the name of training.
“If you could make that shot I’d be out of business,” Brodie said over his shoulder to the man behind him who was unwinding the tape from his hands.
“I could make it,” the man said and that was when they noticed her.
“Hey,” Brodie said and jabbed a thumb behind him. “That’s Tuck.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Tuck said.
She apparently needed no introduction because no one offered Tuck her name. While Tuck finished unwrapping his hands, she examined him. His form was ripped, implying that he had to train as much as Brodie did. That they had to keep themselves in such good shape was a testament to their occupation. Tuck’s hair was lighter
than Brodie’s, and it had flecks of much lighter blond through it.
She felt like she should say something. “How is Kadie?” she asked. Brodie and Art looked at her, and she remembered what they’d said about asking him questions.
Tuck didn’t seem to be perturbed by the question. “Infinitely understanding,” Tuck said, rolling the wraps up and closing his hands around them. “That’s how I can be sure she’s not screwing around on me. She never knows when I’ll show up or when I’ll slip out again.”
Art barked a laugh. “I dread to think what you’d do if you got there and found another dude in your place.”
Tuck slapped a hand on Brodie’s back as he passed him. “That’s what I’ve got my buddy here for.” Tuck went to the control desk and turned the swivel chair around so he could drop into it.
“You say the word and I’ll take the fucker out,” Brodie said, going over to prop himself on the control desk next to where Tuck was sitting.
“What have you got for me, pet?” Tuck muttered, stroking his hands up either side of the keyboard before he cracked his knuckles and began to type.
Zara’s eyes widened when she saw how fast his fingers moved. The lines of letters, numbers, and symbols that scrolled on the basic screen built into the unit just in front of his keys meant nothing to her. Watching him work was making her seasick, so she went back to looking at the pictures on the bank of monitors.
“Where are all of these places?” she asked, waving a hand in the general direction of every feed.
“All over,” Brodie said, twisting to look at the screens she was watching. “Tuck can tap into any existing camera, and over the years, we’ve planted plenty of our own.”
A picture flashed up on a screen to the left. She recognized the pointed arch windows, the floor, and the stone staircase as the ones she’d seen upstairs. But the carpet on the stairs was different to the one she had seen in this house. Going around the control desk, she got closer to the screen to examine it in more detail. An older woman came into view and she waved a pointed finger at her.
Glancing back at Art, she sought confirmation. “Is this the other house?”
“Yep,” Art said with a head bob.
“You told her about that?” Brodie muttered with displeasure.
Art shrugged. “Everyone knows the house exists. I mean the plans are out there for anyone who looks,” Art said. “It’s not a secret.”
“Who is she?” Zara asked, peering closer at the woman ascending the stairs.
“Tuck,” Brodie muttered and Tuck pushed along to a different keyboard. He typed something then gave Brodie the nod.
“Hey, Bess,” Brodie called and the older woman on the stairs jumped and spun around. “Say hi to the camera.”
“Oh, Brodie,” she scolded, raising a hand to her chest. “You are going to give me a heart attack!”
“Wouldn’t do that, not while the doctor isn’t home,” Brodie said, leaning back and turning his smile down. “Just checking in. Any trouble?”
“What trouble would I have on an island inhabited by myself alone?” she called out into the air, so Zara assumed she couldn’t see in here.
“Told Thad I’d check in,” Brodie said. “Call if you need anything.”
“Zave will be back with the Liberated tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about me… that boy and his gadgets,” she muttered and carried on up the stairs and out of camera range.
With half a smile, Tuck reached over and tapped the keyboard beside her then went back to his. “I’ve got two possible targets,” Tuck said. “But I wouldn’t bet my nanite processor on either of them.”
Brodie nodded and when Tuck turned his chair toward Brodie, Art crossed to stand between the two men. She didn’t know what a nanite was, but the others seemed to understand what he meant.
Brodie spoke first. “Give me the addresses and—”
“You have other business to take care of today,” Tuck said and got up. “I’m going to shower, then Art and I will check them out.” He headed for the door with Art following him. “Keep your powder dry, buddy!”
Tuck and Art disappeared and when the door closed behind them, she rounded the control desk. Brodie didn’t move or acknowledge her for a good thirty seconds.
He pounced to his feet. “Ready to roll?” he asked.
“Ready to…” But he was already on route to the door, so she went with him.
“I’ll get changed and take you home. Grab your stuff and I’ll meet you in the garage.” He paused and seemed to reconsider this. “I’ll shower in the gym. You can wait for me in there.” That was a preferable option, as she would probably get lost again if she went off on her own.
The next set of doors he took her through led to a fully equipped gym. He sat her on a bench and disappeared through a swing door, which she guessed was where the showers were because six minutes later he came out washed and ready to leave.
She’d tried not to think about how detached he was acting toward her because she’d assumed he was maintaining his masculine façade in front of his uncle and colleague. But as he took her through the house to retrieve her shoes and purse, his familiarity didn’t increase and his possible reasons for being so impersonal were beginning to concern her.
When they had her things he took her to the garage, where she noticed a vast number of vehicles, at least six bikes and four cars, though there was space for more. He retrieved two helmets from a metal cabinet, one of which he handed her before he went to maneuver a motorcycle out of its space. “I can’t get on that,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked, glancing down at the bike then back at her. “You’ve been on it before.”
His confidence never wavered. She wasn’t sure how understanding he would be about her reluctance, but climbing on a bike when she was such a mess and only half-dressed didn’t sound like a good idea to her.
“Yeah, but…”
He stashed her purse in a secret panel then got on and started the engine. “What’s the problem?” he asked but gunned the motor. When he winked, she had to concede a smile. “You can handle this much testosterone between your thighs… I’ve seen it.”
“It’s not the testosterone I’m worried about,” she said, coming closer and raising her voice when he revved the bike again. “I’m not even wearing underwear.” Opening her jacket, she showed him the proof and he took his time checking her out.
He turned off the bike and leaned back, though he didn’t get off it. “I can’t take a car out of the main gate in daylight,” he said with a half shake of his head, which might have been apologetic, yet wasn’t quite. “I can’t do it, baby.” All this secrecy was new to her, but she understood why he couldn’t take that risk. “Cab fare?”
Well if it was that or nothing, she would have to live with it. “Ok,” she mumbled and moved nearer. “You be careful tonight… Can I have my purse back?” Opening her hands toward him, she waited for him to comply.
He scowled. “I’m not gonna let you just walk out of here,” he said, alighting the bike while pulling his wallet from his pocket.
She pushed it away. “And I am not going to let you pay me for my services,” she said. “I have money for a cab.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled, and shoved his helmet onto the bars of the bike. Going over to the cabinet again, he selected a set of keys from the several on offer and came back toward her, pointing the key at her as he spoke. “If, by some miracle, we get away with this. Do not tell Art.”
“Away with what?” she asked and the lights of a shiny, grey Audi flashed when he pressed a button on the fob. “Wait.”
The first time she’d been on his bike, she hadn’t had the time to think about the merits of risking the ride. Throwing caution to the wind again, she pulled on her helmet, and hiked up her skirt to climb onto the bike. It almost tipped, but he lunged forward and caught it.
“Nothing sexier than a woman on a bike,” he said, dropping the car keys into his pocket. “You’re badass, b
aby.”
He shirked his jacket and wrapped it around her. It was huge, but it would serve to keep her warm. After he hopped on and put on his own helmet, he pulled her arms around him and she resolved to keep herself close.
When he revved the bike and blasted forward, she whooped and clung even tighter than she had before. He probably wouldn’t be able to breathe, but he didn’t complain. The grounds were as much of a mess as she’d imagine last night.
There was no clear path out, he swooped the bike one-way and the other. Zara would bet that he was testing her, but as she got more used to the motion, she relaxed. Brodie was proficient. He wouldn’t put her in a position where she could get hurt.
On reaching the boundary, they didn’t go out the main gate. They went through a narrow opening between the wall and the natural cliff face that rose at this point of the landscape. Further down this alley was a gate that was only a few feet wide and it was already closing before they were all the way through it.
She wasn’t sure how they activated the gate, but with their tech, they probably had a built in button somewhere. The wall carried on along the cliff for a few feet, then Brodie zoomed across the top of the slope that led to the beach and then they were on public roads. No one else was around and because there wasn’t much around here, there never would be. They had their secret entrance and now she understood what he meant about not bringing a car out of the main gate.
They pulled up behind her apartment, between the dumpsters where he’d parked before. Brodie turned off the bike and dismounted. Her legs were wobbling after he lifted her off the bike, probably because of the vibration and the adrenaline. Pulling off her helmet, he curled a hand around the back of her neck to steady her, and retrieved her purse before he guided her upstairs.
She unlocked her apartment and went inside, but he didn’t come in behind her, causing her to stop and look around for what the problem was, only she couldn’t see one.
“This is all gonna be over soon,” he said, loitering on her threshold. “Once Grant finds out about Quebec, I’d guess he’ll cancel your date.”
Raven (Kindred #1) Page 21