“Yeah, I know, it cut him deep. You said that already.”
She could be facetious and try in vain to hold onto her anger but the truth was that she had more anger toward herself than toward anyone else. She wanted to believe Art’s declaration of Brodie’s love, despite all the evidence contradicting that assertion, and that gullibility just took her back to self-loathing.
“It did,” Art said.
“Tell me why you’re here tonight. Going over the past serves no purpose. It’s just a waste of your time and mine… and the time of your buddies listening in.”
“No one’s listening in,” he said, opening his hands wide enough to spread his jacket to show that he had no weapons. No weapons didn’t mean he was alone. He was part of a flock who hunted and hid together. Each knew the other and she’d been taught that their priority mission was to watch each other’s backs, so it was doubtful that he was out alone.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, dropping a shoulder to the column and rolling her eyes upward. “Just say your piece.”
He gnashed his teeth before snapping. “Rave told us not to come near you again. Told us you were unviable and off-limits. It’s unlike him to be so protective of—”
“Rave,” she muttered and peered at him as she shifted her weight to her feet again. “Why do you keep using his alias? You don’t trust me? You think I’m recording—”
“When we’re away from base, we always use aliases,” Art said, closing the space left between them while lowering his volume. “Anyone could be listening.”
Making eye contact helped her find clarity. “You’ve bugged this place too, you or him. You heard my conversation with Grant?”
“More is the point that Rave heard it,” Art whispered and she brought a hand up to cover her dry mouth. “You said some hurtful things, girlie.”
“I was making a point,” she exhaled. “If your goal tonight is to make me feel sorry for him then you’re underestimating how your audience feels.” Fortifying her confidence, she wouldn’t let her compassion overwhelm her sense.
But he wasn’t deterred by her statement. “I know exactly how you feel, girlie, and you’re as sunk as he is. You won’t get me to believe anything else. You’re not angry with him, you’re hurt, and that’s why you’re acting this way. Your pride was bruised when you thought maybe he used you. Your heart too.”
Vicious in her retort, she wanted to scream. “He did use me,” she said, setting her jaw and averting her attention.
With a curled finger on her cheekbone, he brought her eyes back to his. “He loves you, button. Trust me on that.”
When she blinked two tears skittered down her face and on an inhale, she lifted her head out of his reach and stepped back. The touch was too reminiscent of Brodie’s, and she didn’t need that now, not when Art’s words were so close to home.
“You should go,” she said. “I need you to leave now or I’ll have to call the authorities.”
“You wouldn’t call them on either of my boys,” Art said, not doing the gentlemanly thing and departing at her request.
“Please,” she said, pleading with him to let this be.
“Our mutual friend went to great lengths to conceal his association with you. While we had regular access to your apartment, we scanned the environment to preclude any chance of being surveyed. But make no mistake, not all threats were neutralized. I came here to let you know there may be others who know you’re playing both sides.”
“Playing…” Believing it was his intention to rile her, Zara chose not to rise to the bait. “You can be assured that my loyalty is not split. I have been with Grant McCormack for half a decade and he has never endangered me.”
“Never?” he asked, proceeding his word with a gentle nod. “Like putting you in a room with terrorists?”
“He wasn’t the one with the gun pointed at my head,” she said, letting her vehemence speak for itself. “I won’t be drawn in by your kind anymore. I don’t need advice. I don’t need assistance. I need to be left alone.”
She glared into his soft expression and tried to imagine how he had trained Brodie to kill. This man had two faces: one was kind and unthreatening but the other had the capability to cut down a man without a blink. The trick to surviving the Kindred’s gauntlet was not to be drawn in by that first face.
Zara would only survive this ordeal by not blinking first. Taught by these men not to show weakness, she remained steadfast until Art retreated and eventually left her apartment.
Only when she was alone did she let herself sag. Though she hadn’t admitted it to him, she was disturbed by the idea of being listened to in her own home. It had been bad enough to think people were watching her, to think of them hearing her as well was just too much. It was one violation too many.
Going into her bedroom, she got dressed and packed a bag. An interested party may follow or trace her location, but she would still be out of the web that was closing around her and for one night, that would have to be enough for her.
A night in a hotel didn’t settle her. Zara woke up at frequent intervals and had to remind herself that she wasn’t at the manor.
Brodie had broken into her psyche and she’d come to expect him at her side or in her periphery at least. Getting over the treachery of his actual motivation for coming into her bed meant also accepting that she was now in a precarious situation without a safety net.
At work, this reality played itself over again in her mind until she resolved herself to do something about it. So marching into Grant’s office without declaring herself, she was seated in the guest chair before he diverted his concentration away from his computer.
“I don’t think you should do this.”
Placing a hand on the lid of his laptop, he pushed it down, then locked his fingers together on top of the machine. “I have just sent an encrypted message to all parties. Sutcliffe was the successful bidder. His bid was actually the lowest, so you can be assured that this was not about the money.”
Mortified that she hadn’t had any influence over the progression, the inevitability of what would happen next took her fear to a new level. “I thought you were going to consult with me,” she said, having not expected him to have acted in such haste without due notice.
“I didn’t want you to have the burden of this decision.”
“The burden of being an accessory to mass murder? Is that what you meant? Because it’s what we both are.” Rising from her seat, she leaned over the desk. “Brodie wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want you to… to collaborate with these people. Please… he… you said that he killed the men in your lab… did you think about why he did that? Maybe it was a warning.”
His eyes widened. “You think he was threatening me?” Grant asked, sounding more annoyed than intimidated and she could practically see his competitive hackles rising.
“No, I meant warning you that this isn’t a good idea.” As much as she didn’t want to give Brodie any points for personality, she did want to get through to Grant. “He could’ve come for you if he wanted to hurt you, to defeat or outmaneuver you. He could have attacked you, but he didn’t. He tried to take away your opportunity to make this deal, to do harm. In effect, he intended to take away your ability to harm yourself.” Stepping back from the desk, she sank back into her chair. “Maybe that’s what he was trying to do.”
Saving people from themselves seemed to be a specialty of Brodie McCormack’s. The burden of living with complicity was heavy enough to slow a person. Art had told her that Brodie believed he’d lost his humanity, at least some of it, and Brodie had told her that he hid his darkness from her. With his deception followed by his rejection, he had saved her from him. Just like he’d tried to save Grant from making this deal.
“What do you know of his intentions?” Grant asked, dismissing her. “You don’t know how coarse and uneducated he is. Brodie fights dirty and he has never intended to help me in his life. All he cares about is himself and winning.”
Except if that were true he’d have taken Grant out of the picture and coaxed her back into his bed for sport. But she had no way to convey that to Grant without betraying her own association with the brother Grant loathed.
“Delivery is to be made within the week,” Grant said. “I’ll need you to make plans to ensure the secrecy of the handover.”
And after that statement, he opened his laptop and went back to work. She wasn’t going to start an argument, because she could tell she wasn’t getting through to him, but she had bought herself a clue as to who might.
TWENTY-TWO
Going home and waiting until after dark, Zara lit all of the candles in her blue window and waited for him to come to her. She was ready for his taunting and happy to accept the humiliation of extending this invitation, which he would no doubt try to amplify when he showed up. Mocking her request for his presence with any insistence would be more telling than he realized.
If he did show up after declaring to no longer need her, he’d be revealing the truth of his addiction and confirming Art’s assertion. If he didn’t show up, it would prove that he really did have no further use for her and that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
After cleaning up and putting away her laundry, Zara came into the living room to find that the candles had been extinguished. Glancing left and right, she sought out friend or foe.
“This better be good,” his deep voice drawled.
Whirling around, she found him leaning against the far wall near her bookcases. It was dark, just as he liked it, and he had shown up himself rather than electing to send an agent on his behalf. He was here. She wondered if her signal had given him the excuse he needed to return to her.
“I know how to end this,” she said, keeping things business as that seemed to be the demeanor he was projecting.
“And you want a gold star for figuring that out?”
“I need your help.” His laugh was short and bassy but distinctive in its lack of sincerity. “I don’t care if you disappear from my life after this. I’ve figured it out and you are the only one with the power to prevent this… talk to your brother.”
“That’s your masterplan,” he asked, pushing off the wall. “You think me walking into Saint Grant’s apartment is gonna change his mind about this?”
“You’ve underestimated your influence over him. We all did. I think losing Frank set this chain of events in motion. He was the last family that Grant had. Being alone made him reflect on his life and it changed everything for him. He had nothing left to lose and nothing to stand up for either.”
“What the fuck has that got to do with me?” Brodie asked, coming nearer.
Maintaining her posture, she vowed not to lose her nerve. “He envies your life, covets it maybe. He believes he made a mistake going with Frank as opposed to going with Art. He wants the adventure that you take for granted.”
He stopped moving and slowly his head began to shake as a whisper of a disbelieving laugh left his lips. “Man,” he murmured. “You two are made for each other.”
Setting her jaw, she tried to remember that she was asking for help and so shouldn’t argue with him. “You don’t—“
“Grant’s life exists in a light I’ve never had,” he snarled and his own resentment bled into his words. “Constantly living life under threat is not an adventure. Scrutiny leads to paranoia. I can’t walk in the open. I exist in the shadows and anyone who tries to venture into my darkness has to abandon the world. Living life alone is not as easy as people like you think.”
He’d stopped walking toward her, so she took the final steps to erase the remaining distance. Anger began to fade. Her heart belonged to this man and although he sounded resentful, like he hated the world and welcomed his isolation, she could hear pain in his words. Calling him here was meant to be for the greater good, she wanted to tell him how he might be able to reach Grant and prevent any atrocity from taking place.
But she wasn’t as good at detaching herself and she couldn’t view Brodie as a business associate. She had lay naked with this man and shared secrets. She’d entrusted her life to him. Maybe Art was right when he said Brodie hadn’t wanted to burden her with the truth of Quebec. Either that or Brodie was trying to maintain barriers because he was afraid of what loving her might do to him.
His and Art’s relationship was deep but masculine, Brodie wasn’t used to the softness of a woman. Zara had feared what would become of their relationship after the mission, but it wasn’t even over and she was losing him already. Someone had to open themselves, to take the risk, and she knew now that person would have to be her.
“I know you’ve lived your life in pain. That the things you’ve had to do to help others have changed the essence of your humanity. You’ve faced struggles that—”
She tried to take her hands to his face, but he ducked back and sidestepped to avoid her, probably because physical contact may make him forget he was supposed to snub her. He walked away, but she spoke again, keeping her back to him to give him the moment of privacy he probably needed in the face of what he’d just admitted.
“Grant needs to hear it and he needs to hear it from you,” she said. “He needs to understand what your life has been and what this decision will mean for his humanity.”
“His humanity is his problem,” he mumbled.
Turning around, she could only see his back because he stood in front of her couch, facing the kitchen. “This isn’t about salvaging your relationship with your brother,” she said, calculating her words and their pace. “You have the ability to change Grant’s mind-set and to end this before anyone gets seriously hurt.”
“People have already died.”
He was being deliberately obtuse, but she wouldn’t fall into the trap of combatting his attitude because it would only end in them fighting. She had to get through to him, had to make him see that she wasn’t like the others, that she understood him and understood Grant.
The only way she could affect change and divert the possible disaster Game Time would cause, was by making these two men stand toe-to-toe.
Crossing to him, she kept her tone soft. “I meant anyone innocent… You’re strong, stronger than the rest of us. I know you can get through to him… you got through to me.”
Splaying her hands on his shoulder blades, she tried to soothe him. But the contact made his head whip a quarter turn so he could spit his words over his shoulder. “I used you.”
“I don’t believe that anymore,” she murmured, skimming her hands up, over his shoulders, she curled her fingers around the collar of his jacket and eased the leather back to coax him out of it.
Twisting enough to drop the garment onto the coffee table behind them, she rested her lips on his tee shirt covered back and dragged her nails up to his neck because she knew how that action stimulated them both. Art’s words and her own experience with this man helped her to see through the bullshit. He was as scared as she was and if she let him push her away then she would lose him for good.
Handing over trust meant handing over a piece of yourself and being vulnerable. Letting yourself love someone meant standing naked on a battlefield, waiting for your love to protect and liberate you. If that person chose not to love you back, chose not to fight at your side, the only possible outcome was annihilation.
Zara wasn’t ready to admit defeat. “You told me to leave my mark on you,” she murmured into him, hoping she could provoke him into getting physical with her because it was the first step to breaking down his barriers. Except he didn’t respond, she kissed and caressed, but he stayed there rigid in front of her. “Please,” Her voice cracked under the burden of what she was trying to accomplish. “Don’t hide from me anymore, beau.”
Maybe it was his attempt to get away from her, but he inched away from her and turned to sit on the couch. But his new position presented her an opportunity. She might make a fool of herself by being so unguarded, but she took the risk of ridicule and raised her s
kirt to straddle his lap.
Stroking her hands up his chest, over the mass of his shoulders and past his neck onto his face, she tried to get lower to make him look at her but he turned his head left when she went right and vice versa.
“Look at me, beau, please. I’m right here. I need you,” she whispered, caressing his jaw because she needed to breakthrough.
She didn’t want him to hold her at a distance anymore. She needed to feel that they were in this together because without him, she wasn’t strong enough to fight alone. Brodie was used to fighting alone, and she wanted to prove to him that he didn’t have to be isolated anymore. She had told him that she wanted his darkness, that she didn’t want him to change. She had to trust him because if she didn’t, he would never trust her.
He gritted his teeth. “I lied to you,” he said as if that and his feigned anger was enough to break their bond. He wouldn’t let himself look beyond her chest and that was enough to prove her suspicion about his lack of conviction.
Splaying her vertical fingers on his cheeks as her smile formed, she wasn’t angry with him anymore. “I know,” she breathed out. “You’re a complete bastard most of the time. But I can’t lose you.”
His gaze leapt to hers and the new angle gave her the chance to plunder his mouth. Trying to break through his barriers, she whimpered her joy on his entwining tongue when his hands spread on her back.
Still open mouthed in desperate need of validation, she matched the strength of his heavy tongue as it slid over hers. With her weight balanced on his hands and forearms, he lifted and twisted to put her on her back and squash her into the cushion of the couch with his weight.
After a long period of indulgence, their mouths parted and when she expected him to start stripping her or taking liberties with other parts of her body, he didn’t. Reading his scowl, she took her hands from his torso to his face and tried to figure out why he hesitated.
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