Swallow (Kindred, #2)

TWO

TWO

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In the end, she didn’t get to the funeral. She’d learned Brodie’s signals, and locking the bathroom door meant he didn’t want to interact with her anymore. For weeks, she’d been trying to break through his barriers, but he was still too affected by the loss of his mentor to allow her to make any meaningful progress with him.

Grant hadn’t been happy when she’d appeared at the wake, flushed, apologetic, and late. Still, he kept her near while making the rounds and shaking hands. After Atlas, and Art’s death, she hadn’t intended on going back to Cormack Industries. The whole mess still upset her, the senseless loss of a good man and the deal Grant had been going to make with a person intent on murder made her sick. She was sorry to have been involved.

But a couple of weeks into her stay at the manor, Grant McCormack—Brodie’s brother and her former boss—had called and begged her to come back to work. Without any sense of obligation, she intended to refuse him. But after discussing it with Tuck, who was also known as Swift, they decided she should go back, at least for a few months, until they were sure that Grant had gotten over his notion of illegal justice. So far, so good.

The funeral passed and she went back to her juggling act of trying to keep an eye on Brodie, while maintaining her own apartment and her job at CI, which was just cover for her role as Kindred spy. She knew her future was not in that company.

Over the last three months, Zara had learned the rhythm of the manor and of her man. As tough as it was being everything to everyone, she valued Brodie’s need, and his trust. She could roam free in a space he’d always kept private. The manor was so highly restricted that only six people had set foot on its floor for over a decade. Now, it was becoming her home.

Tuck had grown to be her closest ally. She could call on him day or night for anything and he would always help her as quickly and thoroughly as he could. Zara wasn’t sure she'd have gotten through this quarter without him.

Tuck’s expertise were needed in the manor that day, about two weeks after the funeral. When she’d called for his help he’d been close enough to get there quickly. Sitting in the main security room in the basement of the manor, Zara stayed as quiet as possible while Tuck typed, fixing the issue that she’d called him about. Tuck knew everything there was to know about computers and had programmed most of the manor system himself. It was impossible for this network to stump him, as it had done her.

Tuck rolled his chair to the side and opened his palms toward the trio of keyboards indicating she could take her place at the central one again. “Thanks,” Zara said, using the desk to pull herself to the middle position of the control panel where Tuck had just been.

“No problem,” he said.

She could feel him watching her. He’d been looking at her in the same way for three months, and just as usual, she did her best to look anywhere except at her friend and colleague. So Zara examined the timestamps on the monitor bank above her as each screen rebooted. The last one flickered up and she exhaled, pleased that she had a clear and present view again.

Still scrutinizing the screens, Zara was aware of Tuck waiting for her to say something. “I think it crashed last night,” she said. Staying on topic didn’t give him the explanation he wanted, but it was all she could volunteer. “Everything was all screwed up when I came down this morning.”

“Zara,” Tuck said in such a way that told her, he wasn’t going to let her skirt the issue any longer. The hacker was too astute for his own good sometimes. “How is he?”

Pasting on a smile, she did her best to sound breezy. “Oh, you know, some days are better than others.”

The feigned cheer in her voice was fooling no one, let alone the man who knew Brodie better than she did. “You can talk to me,” he said in the same soft voice most people used when broaching a difficult subject.

Exhaling, she accepted that her avoidance wasn’t going to hold up. Shouldering all of the responsibility for Brodie and his mood was as selfish as it was selfless. She was protecting the Goliath that this man was and he wouldn’t take kindly to people discussing him behind his back. The trouble was, he didn’t talk about himself or the dark place he’d descended into, and so she was left to soldier on without any idea if she was helping him to progress or just facilitating this holding pattern.

Just because she understood that she had to be honest and share, didn’t mean she could look Tuck in the eye as she did it. So she spread her fingers on either side of the middle keyboard and traced the outer edges of it.

“For the first four weeks he didn’t come out of his room,” she said. “He locked himself up in there. It was hit or miss whether he’d eat, let alone shower or shave. For the next four weeks, he threw himself into working out. He’d be in the gym for hours sometimes. I would leave in the morning for work at CI and he’d still be in there when I came home, lifting weights or running. I thought it was an improvement, you know? At least he was taking care of his body and he was drinking and eating again.”

He rolled his seat closer and his hand came into view near her elbow. “And for the last month?”

She sighed. “He’s been back and forth,” she said. “Sometimes I almost see glimmers of his old self coming back, then just when I think we’re getting somewhere, he locks himself in his room again and I don’t see him for days.”

“It’s a process,” Tuck said, pulling his chair close enough that he could take her hand. “You’re not going through this alone. If there’s anything I can do to help—“

“You’ve been amazing,” she said, turning her hand over to link her fingers with his. “Every time I call, you pick up... I can’t say the same about Brodie.”

“He’s lucky to have you,” Tuck said. “You’ve kept him alive for the last three months.”

“Sometimes I come into the house and I can’t find him, I have no idea where he is.”

“You won’t have that problem now that I’ve shown you how to access and control the motion sensors. You’ll be able to look after him no matter where he is.”

“He can take care of himself... I’ve just been helping out.”

Sometimes while sitting at her desk in CI, she wondered how Brodie would have dealt with Art’s death had he not had her. Maybe she wasn’t helping at all. Maybe if she hadn’t been here he’d have been forced to carry on and to look after himself. There would have been no alternative. But abandoning him had never occurred to her because if he didn’t pick himself up and move on, the alternative was too horrific to even entertain.

“Are you two still...?”

“I stay over most nights,” she nodded. “But I’m... I moved my things into one of the guest bedrooms because you know... he needs his space and I don’t like to intrude.”

“Are you telling me that since Art died you haven’t—“

“Oh no, we’ve had s*x,” she said. “When he wants it, he seeks me out. Sometimes he’s waiting for me as soon as I arrive. Other times he comes to me at night, you know? But he hasn’t left this house. I still have my apartment where I stay when I’m not here and he hasn’t visited me there. He’s still so angry about what happened. He blames himself and sometimes he needs the vent.”

Tuck sucked in a breath. “What about your needs?” he asked. “The guy needs a good punch to the gut. He can’t just breeze into your life any time he wants to take out his frustrations with some angry sex... Not that I’m one to talk about healthy relationships.”

“How is Kadie?” she asked, referencing the girlfriend Art had told her about.

“I haven’t seen her in a while. All of this it’s just... it reminds me how dangerous what we do is. If I had been the one to take that bullet... she would never have known...’

“It’s not too late to change your life,” Zara said. “Art told Brodie not to be like him... I’d guess that goes for you too.”

“I wouldn’t know how to change,” Tuck said. “My life has been like this for as long as I can remember. I met Brodie and Art in Thailand when I was twenty-two... just a few weeks before my twenty-third birthday. Art planned a huge party for me when he found out I had never celebrated a birthday before”—his smile grew more distant as he turned it away—“I didn’t know half the folks there, but... I’ve been knocking around with them on and off for ten years. Art taught me a lot about control and indulgence... Man, I was an i***t back then.”

Concerned that Tuck was dealing with his own t*****e alone, she wanted him to confront what he was dealing with. Repressing it could lead to further damage. “He was like family to you too,” she said, slipping a hand under his jaw to make him look at her. “You need to grieve the loss as well... And there’s always a place for you here. You’re still family and I’d have been lost without you these last three months.”

It was obvious he was trying to deflect her worry by the way he squirmed. “Everyone grieves in different ways,” he said, taking her hand away from his face.

“Do you want to stay tonight? I’ll cook and we can watch a movie or something?”

“You cook now?”

Raising a shoulder, she took her turn to look away. “I’m trying my best... I’m learning. I’ll never be a substitute for Art, but if I was to feed Brodie nothing but microwave meals he’d be worse off than he is.”

Laughing, Tuck pushed out his chair and stood up. “Thanks for the offer, but I have things to do, places to be, you know?”

She didn’t know whether to believe that or not, but she didn’t push him. She got up and pushed in her chair “It wouldn’t hurt you to go home for a little TLC from your lady... Why don’t you tell her what happened?”

Tuck was already shaking his head and took his jacket from the back of his chair. “Kade isn’t a part of this part of my life. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to upset her.”

That he wanted to protect the woman he loved was admirable. But if Kadie was as strong as Zara imagined Tuck’s woman would need to be, she wasn’t made of glass and probably wouldn’t appreciate being shut out when Tuck was so obviously dealing with distress. “Compartmentalizing your life like that is the quickest way to drive her away.”

“She’s put up with me for years,” he said. “She knows what the script is. Besides, I like her the way she is: innocent of all of... this.” He looked around the room as though it was the first time he was seeing the place. Then as quickly as it appeared, the expression vanished and he smiled at her. “Call me if you need anything, ok? Anytime. I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” she said, bowing her head to let him kiss the top of it. He stroked her back and looked into her eyes once more before he disappeared from the room and the house.

After Tuck was gone, she took the time to return an email to Art’s sister, Bess, and go over everything Tuck had taught her about the system. He’d been teaching her during his frequent visits, though he never stayed and she had no idea where he went when he left here. Brodie and Art had told her not to ask too many questions and she stuck to that out of respect for them all.

She had tidied up in the kitchen when she arrived because she’d had groceries to put away. Keeping this house stocked was more important to her than looking after her own apartment. If Brodie decided he wanted something to eat then she was going to make sure he had a choice. Sometimes he came downstairs to grab something, but she had never seen it happen, she only knew it did because things disappeared.

As much as she was loathed to admit it, she had been guilty of checking the trash to see what he was up to. She did it because she cared. She did all of this because she cared. Love was not just about the good times. Brodie was facing the greatest trauma he ever would in his life. By losing the uncle he’d idolized since birth, he’d lost his mentor, his roommate, and his best friend.

Cooking had been her idea of hell, but she’d started giving it a go in an effort to reach Brodie. It hadn’t worked. But he ate what she put down, though not in front of her. He ate alone... just like he did almost everything else.

The steak she’d cooked was resting, so she went over to the plate of salad she’d arranged and was about to pick it up from the lower portion of the central island in the kitchen when something startled her. It wasn’t a sound or a touch, it was just a prickle on the back of her neck, and sure enough, when she spun around Brodie was there, just inside the kitchen door.

“I was about to bring up your food,” she said.

Bringing a finger up to his lips, he indicated she should be quiet, though he himself didn’t make a noise either. Rolling her eyes from one side to the other, she was about to carry on with preparing the meal when he came toward her. He kept on coming until his body was against hers, and from the protrusion in his jeans now digging into her, she assumed something else was about to be on the menu.

Relaxing, she stretched out her arms and brought them around to the back of his neck. “Does somebody want to say hello?” she asked.

One of his hands came up between them. He grabbed the front of her neck, spun them around and forced her back against the tall kitchen cupboard next to the door.

“I told you to shut the f**k up, plaything,” he grumbled.

For one second, they remained immobile. His lips came closer, and just when she thought he was going to kiss her, he bypassed her mouth to push her head aside with his to suck the tender flesh on her neck beneath her jaw.

Zara let him take from her what he needed because she had complete faith that he would desist if she told him to. Except she loved this. Running her hands down his back, she dragged her nails up and kept on going until they were embedded in his hair, in his scalp. Scratching back and forth, she relished his hiss of gratification. Being with him, when he was physical with her, it reminded her of how close they’d once been. He could leave this house and get what he wanted from almost any woman. But he chose to indulge himself in her and she would not discourage that anytime soon.

The grate of him dragging his zip down razed the air, crackling in the space between them. He crouched and drummed his fingers against her flesh to take the hem of her dress in his grip. Keeping his eyes on hers, he raised her skirt and let it gather at his wrists.

Beneath the fabric, his hands sank around her butt and hoisted her off her feet. On reflex, she grabbed his shoulders and found her stability by securing her legs around his hips. Hooking her underwear out of the way, Brodie plunged into her without warning. He went all the way, deep inside. At the same time, as if he’d known it would come, he covered her mouth to conceal the gasp that answered his penetration.

Out he slid, then he drove back into her. This man’s covert skills knew no bounds. He stood here in the kitchen, pinning her to the cupboard, with his d**k buried to the hilt within her trembling passage, and he didn’t even blink. He kept on moving in her, teasing the flesh of her a*s with his fingers and the skin on her neck with his mouth.

All of their woes and heartache were forgotten when she came all over his d**k. Her mouth was still covered by his hand, but when she climaxed he stopped moving in her and the wicked tilt at the corner of his lips told her he had felt the explosion in her loins.

When he slid back, her nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt. Loosening the clamp of his hand from her mouth, Zara nabbed his middle finger with her teeth. The growl in his eyes betrayed that his tolerance was at a tipping point. Most of the time they were together, he tried to prolong the experience for both of them, but he could only go so far before she would topple him into his own release.

Dragging out, he slammed into her, and he was already back out and in before she caught her breath. The fire in his dark eyes soaked her, giving him easy undulating access inside her, she grew slicker with every thrust.

She tasted blood when her teeth clamped in sync with her inner muscles, which were desperate for the scream that joined the sparkles of heat that exploded in her womb. Forcing himself deeper, Brodie’s palm slapped the wall and his curse stuck in his throat.

Tremors still racked her when he stayed in place corking his seed within her. His hand slid away from her mouth, but she took it in hers and kissed the wound she’d caused, hoping apology conveyed in her eyes.

When he slid out of her, she gasped at the remaining frisson of pleasure he delivered. His knuckle grazed her c**t when he dragged her underwear over the intimate opening he’d just violated. He lowered her back to her feet and ensured that she had her balance before he put himself away.

Something about the moisture of their union now dampening her underwear strained her already aching n*****s and didn’t help her wobbling legs. Catching his arm for balance, he only let her hold him for half a second before he pulled himself away from her. They hadn’t spoken, but that only heightened the power of the moment they were in. Every experience she had with Brodie was sexier than the last and the contorted expression of satisfaction on his face almost mocked her, as though he could read her mind and knew that he was the most intense lover she’d ever had.

Still plastered against the kitchen cupboard, trying to quell the panting that wracked her body, Zara shivered when Brodie left her to cross the kitchen and snag a beer out of the fridge. Walking back, he grabbed the cooked steak from the counter she’d left it on and took a bite.

“Go home, Zar. No one needs you here tonight,” he said, taking his steak, his beer, and leaving her alone all over again.