Cuckoo (Kindred Book 3)

by Scarlett Finn

  Brodie didn’t have an agenda, not like Kahlil did, not like Grant or Sutcliffe. Despite his occupation, he was one of the most selfless of the bunch. “So you think I’ll seduce him into agreeing to give up the device?”

  “I think women heed emotions and your curiosity is already aflame, I see it. If you want the truth, I am the last chance for any McCormack to have it.”

  He tapped the envelope with the end of a finger and took shades from his pocket to slide them onto his face before he turned around and strode out of the room. After the door had closed, she snatched the phone from the hook and dialed nine, but before she hit another digit, she slammed the phone back onto the base.

  SIX

  She couldn’t call up Brodie and tell him this. She had to be with him so they could discuss it in person. It was her only hope of tempering his reaction to this revelation. Spurred by this turn of events, she wanted to return to the manor, where they could process the development and construct some sort of plan.

  Unfortunately, Brodie’s ex would be arriving at CI at some point today and that nixed her ability to flee. Zara needed to stay and use this last chance to make sure that if Kahlil tried to approach CI, without the sweetener, that Cuckoo wouldn’t walk into some disastrous deal without knowing what she was selling. Cuckoo wouldn’t be interested in Future’s Hope, but if offered a bundle of cash her first week on the job, she would probably take it to win favor and prove her ability.

  Running to her own office, Zara pulled the box of printer paper from the cupboard and stuffed the reams into the cupboard before locking it again. Returning to Grant’s office with the box, she began to fill it. The first thing to go in was Grant’s laptop, then she seated herself on the chair and pulled out the key from its secret slot to unlock the drawers. She put all of the files in the box, along with Grant’s personal items and any notebooks or paperwork she found.

  Keeping Grant’s secrets would be a skeet shoot. Anything that might so much as contain a hint of a secret was put into the box. Once she was done, she left the key in the lock before crouching next to the chair to rip the concealed plastic slot off the underside of the seat. Removing the clue that Grant had something to hide would lessen the chance of Cuckoo’s curiosity being piqued.

  Content that she had gathered everything from the CEO’s office, she secured the lid on the box and went to her own office to pack her own computer and personal items. When the lid was balancing on the overfilled box, she put it in the center of her desk and returned to Grant’s office for one last look on the shelves.

  Finding nothing of note, she refused to linger because the memories this space conjured were her enemies. Hastening to the exit, she was halfway across the room when a woman walked in, causing Zara to stop dead. The tall Italian was wearing a wraparound dress that clung to her curves. Her long, slender legs were tipped with slick, expensive heels, and when the olive-skinned beauty took her shades from her face, Zara pursed her lips in a smile.

  Her tapered eyes had the longest lashes Zara had ever seen, and swathes of black hair hung in large, perfectly sleek curls over her shoulders. “Fuck,” Zara bit out in a whisper.

  “Excuse me?” the Italian had a vague accent that made Zara more conscious of her own ordinariness. Cuckoo hooked the arm of her shades into her cleavage. Pointing one foot in front of the other, she sashayed closer.

  “Ms. Corvi,” Zara said, reminding herself to be civil to the new head of CI. “Welcome to Cormack Industries.”

  The unimpressed glare on Cuckoo’s face was well-practiced. “You’re the welcome party?” Cuckoo asked, and the curl of her lip made Zara try her best to stand tall.

  Mischa had three inches of height on Zara, and that was before she took the heels into account. The European had a tiny waist, generous breasts, and was the epitome of everything a woman didn’t want to see in their partner’s ex.

  Notions of polite civility dwindled. “The copier paper is in the cupboard in the office next to yours,” Zara said and opened her hands. “Consider yourself briefed.”

  Mischa Corvi didn’t need anything from her. If there was ever an accomplished woman who could handle anything, Cuckoo was she. Zara widened her tight smile, deciding the only way she could get out of this without being rude was to keep her mouth shut. In an attempt to make a sharp exit, Zara took a step to the side and walked past the newcomer.

  Cuckoo had other ideas about Zara’s next move because she spoke, preventing Zara from making her escape. “You’re not Zara… are you?”

  Both women turned in time to face each other again, and while Zara was made more uncomfortable by this truth, Mischa was amused and took her time to examine Zara’s figure with a smile on her face that made Zara want to dig her manicure into the European’s scalp.

  “Yes,” Zara said, clinging to her last vestige of restraint.

  The confirmation further amused CI’s new CEO. “You can’t cook, can you?” Mischa asked, wrapping an arm under her bust to rest the other one on it so she could tap her own talon on her bottom lip. “He always wanted a woman who could cook.”

  So they weren’t going to ignore the obvious. Cuckoo wanted to talk Raven. Zara’s tongue went to the corner of her mouth, and she had to draw it back in and bite the inner corner of her lip to prevent herself from lashing out.

  Never had she so quickly taken a disliking to a person before. She shouldn’t be pissed at this woman who was a practical stranger, but she was. Except if Cuckoo knew her, knew anything about her, Brodie had to have been the one who’d delivered the details, and Zara didn’t want him discussing their relationship with anyone, but especially not an ex.

  That affront, coupled with Art’s assessment of Cuckoo, made Zara tense and had given Mischa an almost zero chance of making a positive first impression.

  Trying her best not to be snide, she had to acknowledge that there were no barriers between them. “Yeah, Mischa, because it’s as simple as that,” she said, deliberately forgetting to use her adversary’s last name.

  Out of respect for the company and the family, Zara had intended to remain polite and sidestep their personal connection through Brodie. Mischa had broken the silence, giving Zara permission to take off her proverbial gloves.

  Mischa wasn’t done with her condescension. “Well, you’re peppy. But you American women always are. So… bubbly and bouncy… I’m surprised you’re not a blonde,” Mischa said, scrutinizing Zara’s black hair, which was pulled back in a tight chignon. “I suppose that’s one thing we have in common.”

  “And I would think the similarities end there,” Zara said, not wanting to be patronized or compared to this siren.

  Perhaps sensing Zara’s displeasure, or as a tactical maneuver, Mischa lost her own graciousness. “Yes, I would too,” Mischa said. Her new stony expression highlighted her disgust, and to see the woman glare made Zara smile. “He does like to corrupt innocence.”

  Somehow, it was easier for Zara to keep her cool when she knew Cuckoo was losing hers. “Shame yours was already gone before he met you. He couldn’t corrupt what was already polluted,” Zara said because if Cuckoo was going to insult her then she wasn’t going to take the hit without fighting back. “But you are quite a simple woman, aren’t you? Ruled by primitive emotion. Anger. Greed. Revenge. Murder.”

  Zara knew what this woman was and what Raven had done for her, and Zara didn’t want her to get too comfortable. Cuckoo was here to run the company because she was the sole person Brodie knew with the qualifications to handle the responsibility.

  As reluctant as she’d been to encounter this woman, Zara was glad that she had the chance to assess her motives and personality. They hadn’t been alone for more than a minute or two and already Mischa was revealing herself to have a short fuse, and trouble with receiving insults despite her ease in delivering them.

  If it came down to it, Mischa wouldn’t be a hard opponent to beat, not when it was obvious that the Italian had no ability to hide her feelings. She was proud, sm
ug, probably liked to boast, and based on her sultry pose, knew just how killer her figure was.

  But Mischa’s irritation was turned around with a toss of her hair. “He obviously trusts my capability more than yours,” Cuckoo said, pleased with herself. “I am the one here to bail him out. Raven does hate debts and he’ll do anything to settle them.”

  “Yeah,” Zara said, not allowing this woman to gain the upper hand when the game was just beginning. She took a lazy step toward Mischa and kept her expression loose. “Maverick is so good for taking out the trash, tying up those loose ends.”

  Staring at each other, neither woman was ready to relent. “You are cute,” Mischa said. Though her lips were pinched, she managed to exude triumph from her gaze. “By the way, your apartment is beautiful.”

  Zara wasn’t expecting that, and her poker face had run out of batteries today. “What?”

  “Raven said he would have somewhere quaint for me to stay while I was in town, you know, until I get settled. It’s small, but cute, just like you.”

  Brodie had given her apartment to the woman he used to sleep with. Mischa found it much easier to relax when she knew she’d just knocked one out of the park. “Stay at my place as long as you like, it’s not like I stay there often,” Zara said, ready to slap Brodie upside his head. “I have better places to lay my head.”

  Mischa sneered again and was probably gearing up to spit, but Zara had her own bone to pick, so she backed away.

  “Where are you going?” Mischa demanded when Zara was just a couple of feet from the door.

  Hanging around would just lead to more sniping. Mischa would never admit to needing help from Zara, and so she’d get nothing done if she stayed.

  “I’ll give you a call in a few days,” Zara said. “You know, to make sure you aren’t spending too much time on your knees.” Mischa’s ire grew and that bolstered Zara, so she opened her hands. “You know, spilling the paperclips or whatever. New company, new setup, it will take you time to get used to the way things work. Don’t forget that I have every member of the board on speed dial, so don’t hesitate to pick up the phone if you need me to call in a favor for you.”

  She couldn’t give Mischa the chance to retort or the women would be sparring all day. So, she left the office and went into her own to retrieve the box from her desk. When she got to the elevator, she pulled her Kindred phone from her purse and speed dialed Tuck.

  “Swallow?” he said when he answered.

  “Still in the field then,” she said because if he was at the manor, he’d have used her real name. “Can you do me a favor? Patch into CI and override security on Grant’s office door.”

  “Want me to add someone?”

  “No,” she said. “Allow general admission, don’t lock it. Make sure my print stays on the CI system, too, even if they think they’ve deleted it.”

  “Oh, kay,” he said, confused by her request, but she smiled, feeling mischievous.

  “And put a few of your little bugs in there, will you? I want the IT guys scratching their heads for a few days.”

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks,” she said and hung up.

  It might seem petty, but her request wasn’t part of any vendetta against Mischa because she was Brodie’s ex. If Mischa didn’t know the setup, she might not add security access prints to the door. But if she did, Zara didn’t want to be locked out of there just yet. She still had to go through this box and Grant’s computer. There might still be something of use at CI, and she didn’t want her credentials off the system before they had a chance to figure out what else they might need.

  The elevator got to the parking garage floor, but she lingered for a moment before exiting. This could be the last time she was in this building. After coming here almost every day for five years, saying goodbye to CI was a big change. But sacrificing the past when the Kindred were her future was an easy decision to live with.

  If Brodie had handed her apartment keys to Mischa there was no point in Zara going there. It made more sense to her now why Brodie had stayed behind in the apartment that morning. Except that meant he’d known what he planned to do and hadn’t clued Zara in.

  He’d have his reasons for letting Mischa stay there, but she couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t tell her about it when it was obvious that she was going to find out. Zara would let him explain his reasons to her after she had given him the riot act about keeping secrets from her, especially as they related to his ex-girlfriend.

  Zara put the box in her car and sped out of the parking garage. A weight lifted from her shoulders the further from CI she got. It had been a huge part of her life, and she’d learned a lot from her job and from Grant, but in so many ways, she felt that she’d learned all she could from that place.

  Parking the car in its usual secret location, she carried the box to her jeep inside the grounds and took it into the house. She dumped it on the kitchen island and went to search for her love. He wasn’t in any of the recreation rooms, the kitchen, or their bedroom, so she headed to the basement where the Kindred rooms were.

  The full gym had more machines than she knew how to work, but when she went inside and spotted him, he wasn’t using the cardio ones with all the buttons. He was lying on the bench press and had the radio playing in the background. Without acknowledging her, he lifted the bar up to the rack, which to her signaled that he was done enough that she could talk to him.

  Grabbing the towel from the machine nearest her, she dumped her purse and went over to toss the towel to his chest. “You didn’t tell me she was the most beautiful woman in the world,” Zara said.

  “Who?” he asked, sitting up to wipe the sweat from his face and shoulders.

  The question was ridiculous because he had to know who she meant, given that Mischa was the only new woman in their life. For a brief second, she considered that he could have taken the opportunity to make some flirtatious comment about their relationship, but Brodie wasn’t of the romantic persuasion and Zara was in no mood for playing.

  Folding her arms, she tried her best to ignore the glean of sweat on his chest. “Who do you think? Cuckoo!”

  A faint glimmer of a smile came and went from his expression. “You like that name. Art did too.”

  She’d spent two minutes in the woman’s company and already Zara knew it was accurate. “He was a smart man,” she said. “When did you tell her who you were?”

  “I didn’t,” he said, bending to pick up his sports bottle from the floor to squeeze some water into his mouth. “Never while we were together.”

  Which implied to her they’d seen each other since they split up or something had changed since then. Irked at herself for not delving deeper into Brodie’s romantic history with the woman who was now a part of their world, Zara was frustrated. Except a million questions would lead to a million more and it wasn’t like she didn’t have a past of her own, so she couldn’t go passing judgement or snooping into ancient history.

  “Is it your plan to go back to Rigor’s?”

  “Yeah, tonight. Figured I’d wait around for you and take care of a few things while I was in the neighborhood. ‘Cept now you’re here—”

  “Take care of things? What things? Setting up your ex in my apartment?” Zara didn’t want to dredge up the past, but she didn’t mind addressing the present. “Why would you put her in our private space?”

  Displaying no indication of shame or apology, Brodie’s arrogance came so easy to him, it was like it was engrained in his DNA. “We’ve already got eyes on that place,” he said in his usual blank tone. “The cameras are setup. We’re comfortable with the layout. There are a bunch of reasons it makes sense. If you’ve got a problem with it…”

  She had any number of problems with the idea of a viper taking up residence in her nest. But Zara had learned to pick her battles and didn’t have the emotional fuel to waste on this one. The truth was, Cuckoo’s charming personality and irritating declarations would have to get in line
because there was actual business to deal with. Game Time and Future’s Hope were more important than Zara being intimidated by the Italian’s glowing complexion and presumptive behavior.

  This wasn’t the time to get bogged down by relationship politics. Telling Brodie about her meeting with Kahlil would have to come before anything else. Mischa was gorgeous and might make many women feel lacking in comparison. But Brodie didn’t want to be with his ex and that was the pertinent fact. She was secure in their love and would needle him about his reticence later.

  That being the case, if she was given the opportunity to ruffle Mischa’s feathers again, she would take advantage. Keeping that woman in her place was fun, though Zara hadn’t realized just how much fun it was until the adrenaline of their initial encounter had worn off.

  Brodie drank some more water. “I guess if you’re home this early, you two didn’t get along.”

  She couldn’t imagine he’d believe any other reality, and his own view of the Italian was obviously a pessimistic one. He hadn’t invited Mischa to the manor, which suggested he was contending with his trust issues and was happy to keep the harlot at arm’s length. Some might wonder why he’d reached out to a woman he didn’t trust in his home. The way Zara saw it, bringing Mischa into CI was Brodie’s not-so-subtle plan for getting Zara away from the corporation. Brodie’s transparent motivation didn’t need any discussion, that she could so easily read him was a positive. It wasn’t like she could argue that he didn’t care when he was showing how much he wanted to have her with him by sabotaging every alternative.

  Bringing his leg over the bench, he got to his feet and she went over to rest her forearms on his torso. He might be sweaty, but he was also shirtless, and she liked being close to him when there was an excuse for skin-on-skin contact.

  Patting his chest, she enjoyed his strength and hoped it would endure when she revealed the real news that had come from her morning at CI. “I don’t care about that. I don’t want to talk about Cuckoo now,” she said, because she would get over it. Cuckoo wasn’t an imminent threat. As uncomfortable as Zara was with the idea of another woman in her apartment, Brodie was right that it made sense to put her there being that it was under Kindred observation and control. And situations with possible lethal consequences took precedence over petulant ones. “We have business.”