Page 70 of Cuckoo (Kindred)

“You’re singing,” Brodie said. “That’s oral fidgeting.”

If he wanted to dish out orders, she’d give him a distraction of his own to help relax him. “You’ve never had a problem with anything else oral I do,” she purred.

“I rule that mouth, pretty baby, and right now you keep it shut.”

Opening it, she drew in a breath because now wasn’t the time to tease and torment him, at least not too much. She wanted him to be focused, given that it was likely they’d need him to bail them out today. The Kindred would be looking to Brodie to lead, and he was in that mindset. But there was no telling how what Kahlil had to say about Future’s Hope would affect Brodie’s focus.

They drove the final few miles together in the same formation. The streets they passed through grew more dilapidated and desolate the farther they got from the shore. The gray building that was their destination was soon upon them, and she knew to follow Brodie’s bike into the adjacent alley because Brodie had broken down the itinerary for them. They were a great team.

“Everybody check in,” Brodie said in her ear as they stopped their vehicles. On one side was a solid boundary wall that linked to nothing. On the other side was the door they’d use to enter the meeting.

She couldn’t blame Kahlil for choosing this old office block on the outskirts of town. The area used to be bustling when the factories were still in production. These days, it was mostly occupied by hobos and criminals. The Kindred belonged to the latter group, so they were right at home.

The windows were boarded up, and the rear exit was blocked by a steel screen, bolted into the wall to secure the now condemned building. They had to go in the side, through the only accessible entrance, which could lead to them arriving in an ambush. But the choice made sense. Although there were buildings around, there was no line of sight. Kahlil knew what Raven was capable of and had chosen a location accordingly. If they’d objected, it would suggest to Kahlil that they planned to hurt him.

She waited in the van while the other two dismounted their bikes and removed their helmets. Following his instructions, Zara stayed put until Brodie came over and opened her door with Tuck at his back. The van key was left in the ignition as he’d coached her to do on their dry run. Brodie had every detail covered.

“You ready?” Brodie asked her. Typical that he should concentrate his concern on her when they all knew this meeting was going to be stressful for him. Focusing on her kept him distracted. Lifting her palm to his face, he caught her wrist to pull it down. “We don’t know who’s in there. Until we do—”

“We’re colleagues,” she said, shirking her familiarity. “Got it.”

Kahlil had to know that they were romantically involved and would tell any cohorts about it. That didn’t mean they should flaunt their relationship, as it could tempt observers to use it against them.

Brodie went first and Tuck gestured for her to follow. So in the same formation in which they’d ridden over, they went toward the side door.

Tuck took hold of her shoulders to guide her aside when Brodie sidestepped in the other direction. She knew by now not to make a target of herself, so she waited being as still as she could be. After Brodie had checked out the inside, he gestured them in, and they followed.

The room they entered was stripped of everything. Mold grew on the walls, the floorboards were stained, and a wooden staircase to the left was rotting away and crumbling.

Kahlil was already here, against the far wall with a black suitcase behind him and no weapon in sight. Good thing she’d warned the others about the poison in his watch.

“No weapons? Show me your belt, empty your pockets.” When everyone did that, Kahlil seemed satisfied. “I want you over here,” Kahlil said, and he seemed more agitated than usual. They all began to move, but he jumped forward. “She stays there. You two come here.”

She didn’t want to be separated, but brief eye contact with Brodie gave her his command to stay. If anything happened, he’d probably tell her to run. But with a tense and edgy opponent in the room, she thought it best not to cause trouble. All she could do was stay near the door and watch as the three men moved past each other in a wide arc, keeping distance between them and eyes on at the same time.

“Where’s Leatt?” Brodie asked. An unaccounted for party posed too many questions. Whatever Leatt was up to, they had to assume it was sinister.

“Close by,” Kahlil said. “He won’t be joining us.”

Interesting. What was the point of having a partner if he wasn’t around to watch your back? “Ben won’t hurt me,” she said to soothe Brodie whose mind was working fast, she could see it behind his frown.

Kahlil wasn’t bothered about easing their worries. “She’s going to take me outside and show me the device is here,” Kahlil said, snatching her wrist.

Her love’s scowl sharpened. “She’ll walk nice and calm with you if you take your hands off her,” Brodie said. “Touch her again and I’ll be waiting inside that door to break your neck.”

And he would do it too. The intensity of his eyes and the growl in his voice made Kahlil let her go and hold up his hands in surrender. No need to aggravate an already tense situation. Glancing at Brodie, she got the nod and went outside to wait for Kahlil, who walked out backwards, still holding up his hands.

Something silver was hooked over his thumb. “What’s that?” she asked, leading him to the van. “The shiny thing in your hand.”

“The key for the suitcase we left in there with your friends,” he said, his attention darting from the van to the building entrance.

Something else was going on here. Unless she had underestimated how intimidated Kahlil was by Brodie. “Why are you so nervous?” she asked, opening the rear doors of the van. “Shooting you gets us nothing. We’re here for the story.”

His attention piqued and he relaxed for the first time. “The story? You will exchange the device for the story alone?”

Before he could look too closely at the Game Time device, she slammed the doors. “Why?” she asked, turning expectation onto him. “Is there a problem with our money? What’s in the case inside? You have to show it to us.”

Brodie had chastised her for fidgeting, yet it was clear to her that Kahlil was the one on edge. Grabbing her arm, he hauled her toward the entrance, ignoring her question. “Move,” he insisted, and she was dragged along at his side.

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