Raven (Kindred #1) (33 page)

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 skirt 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.

“We can’t do this out here,” she said, deciphering why they’d stalled. “Because of the cameras. We could draw the curtains or move through to the bedroom—“

“Swallow,” he grumbled and her contentment ceded to confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“You never asked where Raven came from,” he said. “A ‘Raven’ is a KGB term for an agent whose job it is to sexually compromise a female in order to complete their mission.”

In want of another kiss, she tried to respond in an appropriate way. “That’s apt I guess,” she said, curious about why he’d brought that up now.

“A ‘Swallow’ is what they call a female agent tasked in the same way.”

“You’re giving me my own code name?” she asked and kept on stroking him.

When she tried to take another kiss, he resisted. “You’re playing me,” he said. “I’m sort of impressed by how you’ve taken to the job. It takes some people years to adapt to deception like this. I was right. You are a natural.”

Offended by his implication, the heat of arousal that had permeated her began to grow frosty. “You think I’m using sex to—“

“You need me, don’t you?” he snarled. “Isn’t that what you said? I’m an easy mark, you’ve done me before, so it’s not like you’re in for any surprises.”

“This is a surprise,” she said, thrusting her hands onto his chest to try to move him, except he didn’t retreat. “I was trying to get through to you. I’m so sick of the bullshit. Not everything has a sordid, secret meaning. I get that you’re used to people trying to manipulate you. But all I wanted to do was show you that I forgive you for lying to me and to give you a chance to trust me.”

Cruel satisfaction crept onto his expression. Figuring her out—as he thought he had—made him feel superior. His entitled hand opened on her waist and snaked up over her breast.

“I’m not gonna talk to him. You won’t get what you want,” Brodie said. “I have been doing this way longer than you have. I know how to play dirty.”

Dampening her hurt and feelings of dejection caused by his belief that she could be so callous, Zara returned to her previous confidence. He didn’t have the same clarity about their relationship that she did. She knew how she felt about this man and wasn’t ashamed of it. He was still playing his games. They were back to square one. She had to win his respect again and the only way to do that was to match his confidence.

Proving her conviction, she countered his statement. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have told me that. If you thought I was going to use sex to coerce you into working for me then you’d have fucked me and then revealed your intention, or lack of it. What do you think will happen if you have sex with me? Are you scared you’ll feel obligated to—“

“I’m obligated to no one except myself and I can do what the hell I like with your body,” he snapped. “You’d have no way to stop me.”

“Why would I?” she asked with full confidence that if she used their safe word he would stop. “I still want to be with you, I haven’t closed the door.”

Wriggling beneath him, she began to unbutton her shirt. Without patience, or perhaps in a show of dominance, he grabbed the material away from her and ripped the sides apart. Exposing her bra wasn’t the point of the act. Proving her lack of fear and her intention to follow through, even if he didn’t speak to Grant as she requested, was the point.

His hands got rougher as they groped her chest, but she wasn’t going to wither, in fact, she arched herself into his fondling and let herself moan.

“I’m not gonna change my mind,” he said, yanking the sleeve of her shirt and the strap of her bra down from her shoulder to bare one of her breasts. “I’ll use your body then walk out of here and you won’t see me again.”

He ducked to suck her nipple hard. “You’ve said that before,” she murmured, worming her fingers under his tee shirt when he rose up again.

His breathing was becoming as erratic as hers, and she was having trouble keeping still. “I don’t care how many candles you light in the window,” he said, bowing to nip her lower lip. “I won’t be back. I won’t help you. I won’t do what you want me to. I work for myself. I don’t care what you need.”