Swallow (Kindred Book 2) (10 page)

“I know,” she said, sorry that she no longer had him to lie on. “Where are you going?”

He left her alone and departed the room. Propping herself up on her elbows, she prayed that he would come back to her and a minute or so later, he did. With her laptop open and balanced on his forearm, his intent face was lit by the welcome screen.

Seating himself in the corner, in his usual seat, he put the laptop on the dresser and began to type. While the computer worked to keep up with whatever it was he’d asked it to do, he looked at her still laid out on the bed.

“Why did you move your shit into the guest room back at base?” he asked without prompting, which suggested that was a mystery that had plagued him.

Getting the chance to be open and talk about their behavior over the last few weeks filled her with hope. The more they talked and were honest with each other, the easier it would be to move forward. “Didn’t seem like you wanted me in your room,” she said. “You were up watching TV or gaming or…” sitting in the dark staring aimlessly, which had been one of his favorite pastimes for the last three months. “You needed space and I didn’t want to crowd you.”

“Move your stuff back, it’s still your room… even if I am being a shithead.”

Self-deprecation wasn’t his forte, but she appreciated the sentiment enough to smile at his effort to sort of apologize. “I never thought for a second that loving you would be easy,” she said. “But I’m glad you pushed the boundaries and fell apart… if we can call it that.”

“Call it whatever the hell you want,” he said, turning his attention back to the laptop.

She couldn’t see the laptop screen. While she was interested enough to want to go over and check what he was doing, it had been so long since she’d had him here and engaged in her presence that she didn’t want to rock the boat by interrupting him. So she stayed put on the bed.

Relaxed and reassured now that she was under Brodie’s control again, she hadn’t discounted the idea that she may be languishing in the after-effects of some drug Sutcliffe might have somehow poisoned her with at his compound. Shifting onto her side, she closed her eyes and tried to ignore her budding headache.

“I thought you were gonna give your apartment up,” he said, not done with the discussion of their relationship. She was happy to talk about it, even if she was half-asleep. With Brodie around, she didn’t have to be vigilant, or cagey, what she saw with him was what she got and he’d deal with any trouble that might try to sneak up on her while she was sleeping.

“I didn’t get around to it, not yet,” she whispered.

“I didn’t think you spent every night at the manor,” he said. “And I didn’t want to think that you’d shacked up with another guy… ‘cause I’d have had to kill him and that would be a fucking shame for him.”

“How would I have explained to him all the time that I spent with you?” she asked, tucking her hands up under her pillow, while her eyes remained closed. This weekend was the longest she’d gone without going to the manor since Art died. She was usually there at some point every day or at least every other day, to make sure that there was plenty for Brodie to eat. “And I was still having sex with you. That would be a tough one to explain to a new boyfriend too. You give me all the action I need, baby.”

There was no response to her flirtation, but she didn’t think too much about it. If it prompted him to come over and play with her, she was happy to be his toy. Brodie drove this relationship, whatever he wanted, he got, and she loved it when he wanted her.

“Hmm, I thought so,” he said. She cracked open an eye to try and figure out what his distant tone meant, but he was no longer looking at her, he was focused on the laptop again.

“What?” she asked, intrigued. “What did you think?”

He had to hear her interest, but he remained intent on the screen and his tone didn’t change. Whatever held his concentration didn’t let go of him for long enough to satisfy her curiosity. “Same caliber of bullet in both crimes,” he said and tapped a few keys. “Either the police work was sloppy and they haven’t made the ballistics connection yet, the ballistics were inconclusive or…”

“Or what?”

“Someone in the forensics department is on the take… and we both know that’s possible.”

The ballistics evidence from Raven’s gunshots tended to vanish. He had guys on the inside, or rather Art did, she wasn’t sure how those relationships would be affected now that Art had fallen. Tuck had the ability to hack the systems and distort or destroy the evidence too.

“Can you speak to someone?” she asked. “At the police department or the forensics lab or, you know, wherever, and find out why the pieces haven’t been put together?”

He wasn’t as captivated by the computer now as he had been, but he was still reading something from it when he responded to her. “Maybe they have been and the police are still investigating and they don’t want the outside to know their hand yet. If someone is on the take, we don’t want them to know we connected the evidence.”

With the explanation, her curiosity was satisfied, allowing her to relax. “Possible,” she said and closed her eyes again. “So what are we going to do about it?”

“Word is, you and Tuck have already got an op running,” he said. The focus of his voice made her peek at him again, this time he was looking straight back at her.

The way his hands went to the back of his head and his eyes narrowed made her wonder if he was accusing her of something. She sat up, steadying her weight on her hands behind her.

“I told Tuck what was going on,” she said. “But he told me just to carry on as normal and today—“

“You went with Sutcliffe, I know,” he said. The laptop clicked when he closed it, then he surged to his feet and strode to the bed. “Usually, when you have a suspicious death like the VP and the housekeeper, the first thing we would do is line up those connected with all of the victims and start crossing them off. You start with the most obvious people because nine times out of ten they are involved. If you get through the obvious, then you start looking at the less obvious. But we already know who’s responsible, so we don’t give a fuck if the cops have put the pieces together.”

“We?” she asked, and pushed up to free her hands so they could cling to his shoulders when he sat down. “Are you…? I mean… are you… back?”

“Back enough to notice that you’re naked.”

If she had Brodie, then she didn’t need to have her private discussions with Tuck. Technically, they should talk as a group, but something else was more pressing, and it had nothing to do with business or Sutcliffe or even the Kindred. It made her heart beat faster and her skin flush. The core of her body swelled and her nipples tightened, he was looking at her, through her, and the intensity of his attention sapped oxygen from the room and squeezed her lungs.

Dragging her nails over the fabric of his tee shirt, she drove them deep. “Being this close to you and with you… looking at me like that…” she said, collapsing onto her back. “I want to have sex with you.”

Except with the exhaustion of her day creeping over her, Zara wasn’t sure that she was capable of doing much participating and an orgasm might make her head explode. With a feeble sob in her throat, she groaned and rubbed her hands over her face before letting her arms flop down. Brodie got up, stripped off his jacket and his tee shirt, then came down on top of her, bracing himself on his forearms.

“You’ve taken care of me for long enough,” he murmured. “Let me return the favor.”

Sliding down her body, he kissed his way south and his mouth opened over one of her breasts. When he sucked her nipple against his tongue, she relaxed a hand into his hair and realized that she wasn’t as tired as she thought.

He left his task for long enough to lean over and kill the light, then came back to enfold his arms around her. “Brodie,” she whispered into the night.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’ve missed you.”

He kissed her lower lip, drawing it between his lips and slanting his mouth for a more thorough taste of her. Exuding her pleasure in a languorous moan, her legs and arms clenched around him. But he lifted up, easing her legs apart to let himself rise onto his knees to scrutinize her naked form.

With his hands hooked under her legs, he pulled her to slide her closer to him and when he widened his knees, they pushed her thighs further apart, forcing her wider.

“How wet are you?” he asked. “You gonna take my dick now?”

Hooking one of her calves around to his back, she kept it twined around him when he bent to let his fingers sink into the cleft of her body. Using her own juices, he coated her and slid his fingers around her clit, opening and closing them to squeeze and torment her with every sculpting move.

Her body squirmed in time with the stimulation he provided. Her back arched to undulate her hips against the strength of his invading hand, which went deeper until his fingers were lost inside her. She could feel the knuckles of his liberated digits writhing and kneading against the damp pleats he’d moistened to aid him in tantalizing her.

“You like that, baby?” he asked, pushing in his fingers with punching force and sliding them out. Plundering forth, he wiggled and worked his fingers to provoke more of her natural nectar to seep over him.

“Take off your jeans,” she breathed, trying to see his face through the dark night consuming them. “Please.”

“I don’t need to be naked to give you what you need,” he growled and released her leg to loosen his jeans.

As his body sank down over hers, he pushed the head of his dick through her folds and she groaned while tightening her internal grip until he hissed. His dick was so constricted by the passage it occupied that for a good while, he didn’t move. He cursed at her and tried to ease away, but she whimpered and sucked him back in deep each time he retreated.

“You are hungry, baby,” he said and kissed her until she began to breathe more easily.

She couldn’t deny that she’d missed having this kind of attention from him. That he’d come here to her apartment after being away from it for so long spoke to how he felt about her, to how concerned he was for her well-being.

Looming over her, he stayed still, sliding his forearms higher until they closed on each side of her head and gave her something to rest against as he stroked her cheekbones and touched her lashes. “You know, Tuck told me not to give you shit for it, but… you took a big risk today. A big stupid risk… You could’ve been hurt. You could’ve been killed. What would you have done if they didn’t let you go?”

His thick cock stretched her pussy, she’d never felt so full and the sensation sent shallow, fizzling sparks to each intimate nerve. “I proved on Friday that I can take care of myself,” she said, working her hips to test their connection. “I’m Kindred, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are,” he said and when he licked her lips with the tip of his tongue, she opened to try to accept him inside. But he didn’t kiss her again, he elevated his pelvis until he was almost free, then pushed into her, keeping his eyes fixed on hers as he fucked her. “You’re a hot, hungry little thing. You can’t even breathe right. I ram my cock inside you and it becomes your whole world, doesn’t it, baby? Do you want more?” She nodded and heaved in an irregular breath. “Say it.”

“I… I want more,” she said, moving in reaction to his quickening.

The heat and tingling pleasure that encircled the shaft he was using to gratify her began to speed up until the friction burned so hot that it spread past her hips, through her belly, and up to her overworked heart.

His skin beneath her hands grew damp and aided her in stroking his chest and his shoulders. The beat of urgency was heralded by the slap of flesh on flesh as they pulled away and joined the impending explosion of ecstasy promised by their physical fusion.

“B… Brodie!” The taste of his name on her lips was enough to unify all the factors that flooded her brain with the elements of orgasm. As she milked the load from his balls into her cervix, he swore through his gritted teeth.

His body fell in a boneless heap, half on top of hers. When he yanked her over to press their clammy bodies together, she closed her eyes and timed the rhythm of his pulse to try to marry her breathing to the thumps.

He hadn’t taken off his jeans. Some things would probably never change. But that reassuring thought helped her slip into slumber, because her love for him, her dedication to this man, that was something else that would never change.

Brodie was up before her and had brewed coffee that she gratefully drank after getting out of her shower the next morning. As was always the case when she woke up with Brodie in her apartment, she was running late.

She’d forgotten to grab her cell phone, so she ran back up to retrieve it from her apartment while Brodie went downstairs to pull out his bike. She put the phone in the inside pocket of her jacket and stepped onto the concrete of the service area at the back of her building at the same second Brodie’s motorcycle roared to life.

The sound stopped her in her tracks. When she looked up and saw him there on it, waiting for her, a grin burst to her expression. Rushing over to him, she took his face in both hands and kissed him so thoroughly, he must have thought they were heading up the stairs to the bedroom instead of out.

Squeezing herself close, her arms were wrapped so tightly around his neck that she held her own elbows. Still smiling, she didn’t ever want to let go. “I think I just had a micro-orgasm when I came through that door. My guy is so hot.” She spoke on his lips and he leaned in to kiss her again, signaling he was pleased or amused by her boast. Parting her lips with his tongue, he thrust an arm around her and jerked her body against his.

“Let’s go back to base. Forget about work, baby, come on. Let’s go home and get naked.”

Much as she appreciated his flirting with a smile, he had nothing to prove. “I’m already yours, beau. Always.”

The come on was his way of teasing and his willingness to get playful with her was another sign of his improvement. Seeing him outside, in the light of day, when he’d kept himself secluded for so long, thrilled her because it suggested progress. He was processing his grief and starting to move on.

Him in his leather jacket and jeans on the back of the bike might have had something to do with her exuberance as well. She had her man back, and when he gave her a nudge to the back and handed her a helmet from the handlebars, she turned her eyes to the heavens before she pulled it on.

If Art was looking down on them, she knew he’d used some of his magic to pull Brodie out of his funk. Tossing her leg over the bike, she wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tight when he revved the engine, not because she was scared, but because she was exhilarated. He raced away from her building at a speed she’d missed.

Being on the bike with him amplified her optimism. Sharing the night together exhibited the return of his strength. The Sutcliffe situation had distracted him from his grief and maybe shown him he needed to get back to living his life, rather than languishing in his depression.

The ride to CI took little time. With the speed of the journey, she could tell that Brodie had found some of his spirit again. He loved his bike and the freedom it gave him. This trip was a reminder of all the things he’d deprived himself of since Art died.

He drove them to the executive parking entrance of the CI complex and stopped the bike. Holding onto him for balance, she reached over to the numeric keypad to input the security code to gain entry. As she keyed it in and they sat on the idling bike waiting for the door to rise, she felt Brodie tense until he became rigid. Coming here, where there was a chance he could come face to face with Grant, was a massive step for him and one she hadn’t expected him to take so soon.

When the door was up he revved the bike hard, then navigated them to the executive parking area and pulled the bike into a space that was meant for her. She did still have her own spot, regardless of the fact that she had returned the car Grant had tried to give her, meaning she had no vehicle to fill this premium void.

Brodie turned off the engine, but he didn’t dismount the bike after he helped her climb off. She pulled off her helmet at the same time he did, and he took it from her to let her toss her jet-black hair forward and shake her fingers through it. She’d tie it back when she got upstairs, but for the moment, she liked her hair being as wild as her man.

When Brodie still didn’t make a move to take the keys from the ignition or get off the bike, she tilted her head. “You’re not coming in?”

With a stern expression, he checked out her figure. “What’s the code for the gate?”

“Three-six-two-one-six-zero,” she said. His lips moved in repetition of the digits without uttering a sound. He hadn’t addressed her question, and she was worried he might be shutting down again. “Brodie?”

He didn’t loosen or make eye contact, but he did grab her hip to tug her near to him. “I’ll come back at lunchtime. I want to check something out and then we’ve got to talk.”

It was something of a response to what she’d asked, but she needed more than that to alleviate her worries about possible regression. If she could keep him operational, then he would have less of an opportunity to disappear back into his despair. “You could come up now,” she said, trying to remain positive. “Do your research in my office?”

Part of her was afraid that if he went back to the manor now, he would never come out again and this progress would be lost. It would be like it never happened if he retreated into himself and backslid into seclusion. Coming to her apartment had shown a return to being driven, and he was right, they had barely touched on the Sutcliffe situation and she had questions.

He scowled. “No, I’m not sitting up there all day.”

“Why not?”

Much as she wanted to encourage his endeavors away from the manor, she could understand his reluctance to enter the actual CI building. He probably hadn’t been in it since his parents were alive. Even if he had snuck in at some time, he wouldn’t want to be seen hanging around now being babysat by his woman.

But when his fierce eyes met hers, there was no apprehension in them, only anger. “Because if I come face to face with him, I’ll beat him until he’s bleeding from every fucking orifice and then I’ll shoot him in the head.”

Well that was a reason and with a head bob, she acknowledged that. He didn’t have to verbalize that he was talking about his brother, that much was clear by the strength of his reaction. The last time the brothers had been in the same space, Brodie tried to choke the life out of Grant. It was true that Brodie blamed himself for not preventing Art’s death, but he blamed his elder brother for putting them all in that position in the first place.

“You blame him?” she asked.

“For Friday night? I blame him for making you step up because he was too much of a pussy to do it. He should never have let anyone touch you.”

The venom wasn’t because of Art, at least, not all of it. His anger was rooted in Grant’s cowardice and his inaction. She’d gone to that bar with Grant and he’d done nothing to stop her assault. Stroking his face, she tried to soothe him, but was overwhelmed with gratitude that this ferocious man was frothing because someone dared to do her harm.

“Beau—“

“Don’t get me wrong, I blame myself too, and I’m gonna… I’ll figure something out to make it right. I’ve put the feelers out, we’re gonna find out who those bastards were and what they wanted.”

Tuck had to have told him about Grant’s claim of a correlation between Purdy’s and Sutcliffe, but she didn’t know how much detail he had. “It was more than money,” she said. “I mean, they robbed everyone, sure, and they spoke about a ransom. But Sutcliffe is coming for us, beau.” Fear made her tighten her grip on his jacket. She didn’t want to let him go. Brodie had killed Tim, putting him more at risk than anyone else. “I guess I shouldn’t have killed Elvis so quick. I should’ve given him a chance to tip his hand.”

If the night had played out as the masked gang wanted, the Kindred might have more information, giving her yet another reason to feel guilty over what she’d done.

“You’re standing here today because you took action. You don’t give a guy time to talk when he’s threatening you. You did good. Aim and squeeze, same as I taught you. You’re a good girl,” he said, and leaned closer. “Gimme some sugar.”

Brodie was more like himself now than he had been even last night. Back to his cunning, ruthless self, he told it like it was. Conceding, she met his mouth and pulled herself in close so she could feel the width of his thigh against her.

“You’ll come back for lunch?” she asked. Now that he had the code, he could come and go as he pleased. Though he hadn’t needed the access code when he rescued her in this space, now she understood that Tuck would have been in his ear helping him to circumvent the system.

Curving an arm around her, he squeezed her ass. “By then I’ll have something to report,” he said, brushing his mouth over hers.

This was too arousing, being with him, connecting with her love, after torturous months of distance ebbing and flowing. He was touching her and talking to her in such an intimate way that she didn’t want to shatter this moment by walking away. He’d saved her life in this space on the same night they’d shared their first kiss. To her, it was fitting that their reconnection had brought them here.

“After work, will you come back to my apartment with me?” she whispered, kissing him twice, each a short but glorious joining.

Returning her kiss, he tightened his grip on her ass to haul her higher and closer until she relied on him for her balance. “Only if it’s to pack up your things and head back to the manor,” he said. “We’re having company tonight.”

That took her aback. “Company,” she said. This was something he’d never said to her even when Art was around. Brodie was one of the most anti-social people on the planet. “You hate people.”

“Not half as much as Zave does,” he said and smacked her ass. “Now get upstairs before I change my mind and drag you back to my cave.”

It was a good thing that she trusted him as much as she did. Turning to walk away, she twisted to make eyes at him. He pulled on his helmet as he turned the key and revved the bike several times causing her to emphasize the sashay of her hips, provoking him to do it again. This was all foreplay, not that they needed further stimulation in the bedroom, but if it was a sign of what was to come for them then things were on the up.

At work, it took an hour to orient herself that morning. Happy thoughts of her night with Brodie and his reversion to being keen and responsive warred with what she’d seen at Sutcliffe’s camp and the possibilities that brought. Grant had wanted to come back to her apartment after their trip, he’d wanted to talk, and she’d told him that she had to think.

Before she walked into his office, she wanted to try to put her sense back into its place. Except he had appointments all afternoon, so she knew that she could only put it off for so long. She had to talk to him before lunchtime.

Giving in to the inevitable, she went through to his office. She closed the door and sat down at his desk, remaining quiet while he finished the piece of work in front of him. When his typing stopped and he closed the lid of his laptop, they made eye contact, but neither seemed sure of where to start.

“How are you today?” he asked and she nodded. It was a cliché place to start, but it was more than she’d offered as an icebreaker. “I know that we have a lot to talk about. Are you sure that you want to do this now? We could go to lunch later, get out of the building and—“

“I have plans for lunch,” she said and he nodded. They could continue with the small talk for the rest of the day. Eventually someone would interrupt them, so she got right to the point before that could happen. Turning toward his desk, she rested both hands flat on the table. “Your housekeeper was killed as was a CI VP. You were present for the attack in Purdy’s. I know that you’re going to tell me Sutcliffe is a righteous and reasoned man, but he’s already taken so much from you. How can you still believe that?”

Although he was frowning, she read in the way his form loosened that he was pleased to be talking about this important matter. But his lips pursed and he took a breath that he exhaled through his nose before making an admission. “I can’t discuss this with you,” Grant said. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

This was progress. At least he was being honest. “Ok,” she said, opening her fingers to stretch them over the wood. They’d gone to Sutcliffe’s place together, he’d wanted to talk last night and now, for no obvious reason, he was shutting down. If he’d made the decision to cut her out then that would be an interesting development and one she’d test. “I’ll just go home and discuss it with my assassin boyfriend, who has something of a volatile temper.”

“No,” he said, lunging over the desk to catch her wrist despite the fact that she hadn’t moved. “You do that and he won’t miss a second time.”

In the warehouse, Brodie could have killed Grant, but he chose not to. After losing Art, and with how fickle Brodie had been, Zara couldn’t be sure he would be so merciful if he got the chance of a shot at Grant again and Grant had just proved that he felt the same way.

Having Brodie back boosted her confidence. “You can choose not to trust me and not to talk to me. Just remember, I’m the more merciful of your options. But even if you shut me out, Raven will still be effective at getting answers from you. Maybe more so than I will be… if you’re not forthcoming, I mean.”

Shaking his head in a shallow arc, his brow furrowed. “You’ve changed,” Grant said. “He changed you.”

He gave no indication as to whether he viewed this as a positive or a negative transformation, though she’d guess he meant the latter. But the idea that the man she loved had a tangible impact on her character cheered her. It certainly didn’t make her want to recoil or retreat in shame.