Page 2 of Cuckoo (Kindred)

Managing the CI giant from behind a PA’s desk wouldn’t be possible. But having been with the company for more than five years, she knew its quirks, knew some of Grant’s secrets about how to keep the business running without a hitch. Turning off her loyalty to the place wasn’t simple, and she had wondered about the corporation’s prospects without Grant at its helm.

Adjusting her focus, Julian blurred when she peered beyond him and made eye contact with Brodie, who was managing to watch their table without watching. The patrons in this bar were too enamored with themselves to notice that she wasn’t paying attention to the man at her table.

The brute at the bar wearing worn Levi’s and a leather jacket didn’t fit in the picture of eloquence that surrounded him. The stark difference between him and his environment made her speculate about how much he’d stick out if he marched into a CI board meeting. His appearance would be jarring enough, but his words and attitude would probably lead to the requirement for smelling salts.

Sighing, she sipped her wine. Julian was uncomfortable enough that he was happy to stare into his glass, giving her time to think. Brodie would hate being stuck in an office. He knew nothing about business and would have no inclination to learn. Thus far, he’d avoided discussing the future of CI. It had taken her long enough to spur an explanation for Grant’s sudden disappearance. Next, she would have to coax him into talking about the family firm.

“Let me think about it,” she said. “I don’t know how I’ll feel about being there, working there, without Grant right next door, you know?”

And that was the truth, so it didn’t take much effort to sell it. Grant had been her boss for more than five years. She’d gone through the full spectrum of experience with him, from simple boss and employee to friend to enemy. Processing his death took its toll on her because she wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad that he was gone. She didn’t want anyone around who might be a threat to her, Brodie, and the Kindred. But in the end, Grant was a sad, misguided man, full of rage and regret. She pitied him as much as she hated him.

“Of course,” Julian said and was surprised when she stood up. “Would you like another drink?”

More than half of her wine was still in the glass on the table. She shook her head and picked up her jacket from where she’d laid it over the back of the chair. “No, thank you. Being here”—she lifted her chin to scan the space—“It’s bringing back too many memories.”

They said goodnight and that included a kiss on the cheek, which she’d have to soothe Brodie about when they got home. But she slipped out of Purdy’s and began to walk down the block. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Brodie would have departed Purdy’s after her. They had a rendezvous point a couple of blocks over; he’d be following behind probably at a considerable distance.

Knowing that her love was stalking her made her smile as she swept her jacket around her shoulders and zipped it up. The fitted leather number hugged her waist and laced at the lower back and it was just perfect for tearing around on Brodie’s bike with him. She couldn’t turn, that would make their association obvious, but she was prickling all over. Emphasizing the sway of her hips, she expected that Brodie would be watching her ass—literally.

Having her own personal bodyguard and guardian angel relaxed her about walking on this street. She’d been attacked at CI, which wasn’t far away, and she was just about to reach the corner where Tim Sutcliffe had died. She’d come so far since that night when she’d cowered in an alley fearing for her life. Brodie had been the one to take the shot, and she knew now that she’d never been in danger, but that didn’t soften the memory of her visceral distress.

It had been real at the time, and its draining power was the reason she’d had no fight left when she came home to find Brodie in her bedroom. Thinking back to their dramatic roots, she knew she’d live every minute of her terror over again if she had to, because in the process of it all she’d managed to capture Brodie’s love, making every emotional experience worth it.

Cutting across one street, she got into the alley where Brodie’s bike was secreted and hurried to traverse the length of it. The heels of her boots clicked as she walked, echoing through the narrow space. But she didn’t hear Brodie. He had to be there and his footwear was heavier than hers, yet he moved in stealth mode.

A prickling chill zipped up her spine and she shivered. They were alone here, in this private space, and a dangerous predator was on her tail. She didn’t feel his approach, but a heavy hand clamped over her mouth. She was dragged sideways and spun around to be thrust against the wall.

“You let him kiss you,” Brodie hissed, wiping her cheek with the back of his hand. “That slimy, good for nothing—”

“He wants me to go back to CI,” she said, flattening her hands on the cool leather over his chest.

Brodie pushed his body into hers. “I know. I heard.”

Another concession she’d had to make was giving him an earpiece so he could listen in to what was going on at the table. Putting on Brodie’s mother’s pendant, which now had a Kindred camera hidden in it, was becoming part of her normal dressing routine.

“I think I’ll have to do it,” she said.

There was no space for her hands on his torso when he compelled more of his weight onto her. The coarse, freezing concrete at her back cooled her neck and caught her hair. But she’d learned to like it rough.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said, crouching to kiss the side of her neck.

Talking about it later was Brodie’s go-to place when it came to anything family or CI related. She’d heard that from him a lot when she was trying to get him to talk about Grant. But if she tried to push a conversation onto him that he was done with, he’d force her to forget it in his own lustful way.

“Can we go home?” she asked, scratching her fingers through his hair. “It’s cold.”

He took her hand and pulled her away from the wall and over to his bike. He helped her on, got the engine started, and then they were on the road to McCormack Manor.

TWO

“If there’s anything you need, pack it up, and—”

Persuading Brodie on the necessity of this trip back home had been a feat. She hadn’t lied when she said it was necessary to deal with Julian’s request for a meeting and with the future of CI. But she had to admit to herself that the excuse to leave Sutcliffe’s former compound, now Rigor’s new digs, was welcomed.

Brodie had only relented when she promised the trip would be short, except Zara wasn’t so eager to get to the place of negative memories. In that kitchen she got flashes, not only of Grant’s lifeless body lying on the floor, but of the terror that overwhelmed her when she’d thought she was going to lose Brodie.

The Manor was safe and it wasn’t until they returned here that she realized how alluring that security was and she didn’t want to give it up. She couldn’t tell Brodie that Rigor’s compound made her feel weak and emotional, she didn’t want him to think that she couldn’t handle what the Kindred had to face. Convincing him to let her be a part of missions was tough enough sometimes, without throwing in the chance that she might suffer effects of PTSD after each one.

In front of Brodie, she had to be strong. “No,” she said, lowering to sit on their bed before she flopped onto her back. “This bed feels so good.” Bringing her feet up to the mattress, she pushed herself toward the middle and opened her arms. “Look how big it is.”

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