Swallow (Kindred, #2)

THREE

THREE

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CI was the same as it always had been. If Grant had succeeded in selling Game Time to Albert Sutcliffe, cult leader and criminal, the domino trail would have led straight back here, and the company would have been irrevocably changed.

Thanks to the Kindred, the near miss had escaped everyone’s notice. Grant was probably quite pleased that no one had figured out his intentions because he got to carry on in his role of authority without answering questions that could only lead to the implosion of his cushy existence.

Before Brodie came into her life, she’d been unaware of Grant’s agenda to sell the Game Time device. But because she’d missed those signs in the boss she’d had for five years, she was now hyperaware of indicators that might imply he hadn’t gotten over his warped ideas of vigilantism.

It served the Kindred’s interest that she didn’t criticize or question Grant about Game Time, Sutcliffe, or Art’s murder. She played nice, so she and Grant had fallen back into professional step with each other without disruption.

A knock on her office door made her look up from her desk. When she saw Grant entering, she shot to her feet and took off her glasses. Her office was right next door to her boss’s and he typically called her to come to him if he needed her to do something. This impromptu visit could be cause for concern.

Subduing her surprise, she kept her cool. “Is there something you need, sir?” she asked, hoping for a quick and simple explanation for this appearance because it was Friday night and past time for her to go home.

Grant wanted her back at CI and seemed to just accept her lack of questions as though they’d come to an unspoken truce. Neither discussed what had transpired in the Atlas warehouse and Grant was fine with that. He’d never suggested anything to the contrary.

In the times her thoughts had meandered back in time while working here at CI, she fizzed with anger. They lost Art because of Grant. Albert Sutcliffe, his buyer, was only a part of their lives because Grant had been determined to make the deal and sell Game Time. Her boss hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, but none of them would have been in that warehouse if it wasn’t for him. Avoiding discussion of those events prevented her from blowing her cover and releasing that pressurized rage.

Though from the tilt of his head and his furrowed brow, she feared those days of business as usual might be over. “No. I wondered if you needed a shoulder,” he said, and she couldn’t quite figure out what he meant. The McCormack’s sure knew how to do cryptic, though the younger McCormack did brooding better. “I’ve seen how distracted you’ve been recently. You zone out at meetings, come in looking tired, sporting new bruises.”

His pointed look at her neck made her raise her hand to the mark Brodie had left on her. Pulling up the collar of her shirt, she cursed herself for not reapplying the makeup she had used to hide the hickey that morning. She’d had a conversation like this with Grant months ago, except she’d been the one to highlight his erratic behavior, now it was his turn to call her out.

Having avoided any personal conversation of late, she could only assume that this was a dressing down, so she responded with appropriate contrition. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get more with it. I’ve just...” There was no acceptable end to that statement without mentioning the topic they’d so far avoided.

Grant took care of that awkward transition for them. “You know,” he said, coming in and closing the door behind himself. “I know what he’s going through.”

Diverting her eyes to the work laid out on her desk, she wasn’t sure of her footing. Her relationship with Brodie had been another taboo subject. So far, that had worked out for her as thoughts of the fraternal relationship aggravated her already agitated wrath.

Aware of her covert role of observation here at CI, she couldn’t lash out at the CEO or he might realize she wasn’t as pliant or forgiving as he assumed she was. What she wanted to do was beat the crap out of him, to scream at him for what he’d done and for how selfish and senseless his apparent motivation was. Art was gone, Brodie was lost, and Grant had suffered no punishment.

But she was here to play it meek and get inside information, so she pulled her lip into her mouth and let her eyes drop portraying that she was uncomfortable with them broaching this previously off-limits topic. “I, uh...”

Grant wasn’t interested in her response. He was focused on getting out what he wanted to say. “When Frank died, it was like losing them all over again,” he said. “I didn’t think that anything could hurt more than losing our parents, especially in the way we did... Then with Frank, he was... he was my father, my confidante, my support and when he was gone... I suppose if I had any excuse for what took place, losing Frank would be it.”

In implicit terms, he’d brought up Brodie, the loss of Art, and the Game Time deal all in one swift release. “I know it was difficult for you,” she said. Once she’d revered her boss, now when she looked him in the eye all she felt was betrayed, which was funny because technically she was the one who’d betrayed him by giving her loyalty to his younger brother. But her anger didn’t completely overtake her compassion. Frank had been Grant’s guardian through his latter teenage years and his death just over a year ago had hit Grant hard. “I remember how you struggled.”

His solemn expression warmed. “I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you. You kept this place together and fended off every meeting that might have made me lose it. I was angry, so angry, and I tried everything to control it. Anger can consume a man. It distorts his thinking. The world becomes skewed and you believe you’re handling things until... you’re not.”

Zara had gotten so used to consoling herself that she played the same platitudes for Grant. “He’ll be fine,” she said, nodding and trying to believe that Grant’s concern was genuine. “He’s getting better.”

She had been telling herself these things since the day they lost Art, but Brodie didn’t seem to be getting any better. Still, she had to believe that there was hope.

Grant didn’t accept her appeasement and excuse himself. “So much better that reports are being missed? So much better that you’ve been late three times this week?”

She couldn’t figure out what it was that he wanted. Having gone from awkward to understanding to commiserating, he’d now landed on subtle reproof. She didn’t know if she should apologize or explain. Given that she didn’t want to reveal anything of her private life to him, she went for the former. “I apologize for—“

“No,” he said, walking across the room. “I am not looking for an apology. I don’t mind, I just...” He sighed and surrendered to the direct approach. “It’s Friday. Don’t you go to Purdy’s on a Friday night?” Not in the last three months. Usually, she went straight home after work or she got errands done before she went over to McCormack Manor. “You look like you could use a drink. How about you let me buy you a glass of wine and we can talk about whatever you want? I promise not to mention his name if you’re worried about how he’ll react to us socializing.”

The last thing she wanted to do was get cozy with Grant, who had proved he wasn’t as tame or humble as he was trying to appear. Whatever his reason for wanting to make friends with her again, Zara couldn’t ignore the opportunity that this occasion presented. She wanted Grant to think that she was warming toward him, that she considered his perspective and cared about him.

Grant hadn’t mentioned Brodie before today, not once, and Zara always assumed that was out of respect. She’d been protective of her love for him and hadn’t denied it once the truth was out. But maybe if Grant thought her feelings for Brodie were wavering since his descent into depression, it would make her boss believe she was more susceptible to his suggestions.

She had no errands to run tonight and she could be at the manor all weekend. Brodie wouldn’t notice her tardiness. He didn’t keep a check on her schedule. So she exhaled and nodded. It might be good to get out of her routine of fretting as well. She was getting good at being in a constant state of anxiety. Now she had the chance to test her skills as an undercover operative.

Grant collected her coat from the hook beside the door while she shut down her computer and grabbed her purse. He helped her into her coat and then curled her fingers around his elbow.

“Let’s see if you remember how to have fun,” Grant said and took her out of the building.

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