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When she came out of the bathroom wrapped in one of Brodie’s towels, Zara could just make out the outline of Brodie’s form in the middle of the bed in the darkened room with the aid of the bathroom light behind her. The covers were draped over his pelvis and he had a forearm lying across his eyes. She was pained to turn off the bathroom light because that would mean giving up her view of his ripped form.
Being here at his home granted her the privilege of seeing him relaxed and exposed. Scars marred some of his body and they added to her questions about his past. She’d seen him fight, Art had told her of his ability with weapons, but all of those skills hadn’t saved him from every blow.
“Lose the towel,” he grumbled and his heavy voice startled her. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t taken his arm away from his eyes, somehow he’d known she was there.
Casting the cloth from her body, she crept toward the bed and tried to figure out where he wanted her. His legs were parted and one arm lay far from his body. The bed was large, but so was he, and he managed to take up most of it, leaving no obvious space for her.
“Are you gonna stand there all night?” he asked.
No, she wasn’t, so she sat on the edge and ran her hands through her jet hair before moving close enough to rest her head on him. He flinched at the contact and his arm darted off his face before he lifted his head to scowl at her.
“My hair is wet,” she said, assuming the chill in her locks had startled him. Brodie closed his eyes and covered them again, so she settled to lie against him. His breath began to slow and he lowered his arm from his eyes to rest it around her. “Do you have a preferred side of the bed?”
“The middle is my preferred side, get used to it.”
Smiling, she turned her face into his hard chest. Bringing her knees up, Zara slipped her feet beneath the covers and ran her dainty toes up and down his bare shins. To most, it would be odd how fascinated she was with a guy’s legs, but his nakedness proved how comfortable he was. He stayed half-clothed when he was in places he didn’t consider secure, having him naked now was an honor.
“Are you still mad that Art let me in?” she asked.
“We don’t let strangers in,” Brodie said.
“I’m not a stranger,” she said, splaying her hand on his diaphragm to stroke the width of him. “I like Art, he’s very proud of you.”
“He wasn’t exactly nurturing, but he gave me what I needed,” Brodie said, tightening his arm to lock her against him. “He’s a good guy.”
A good guy, Brodie meant it, but there was a lack of sincerity when he said it. He could be talking about any guy off the street. She wondered if he played down his connection to Art because he was used to not letting others see his affection for the man, or if Art had just raised him to believe that feelings were vulnerabilities that could be exploited.
“I was nervous coming here,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your personal space, but when that guy sat down with me in Purdy’s... I couldn’t ignore the threat he made. I took the risk and did what I had to... would you have done it any different?”
“It’s not the same thing,” he said and his arm slid back up to cover his eyes.
Sitting up, she held her weight on one straight arm beside his body. “Why is it not the same thing?” she asked and rested a hand on the arm he used to cover his face, which urged him to bring it down to look at her.
Close to slumber, he didn’t look impressed that she was asking him to explain himself. “Because if a guy threatened you, I’d slit his throat, and you would never know that it happened.”
Closing her open mouth, she swallowed and could only stare down at him. Brodie might not wax lyrical about having feelings for her, but his possessiveness empowered her and betrayed that he wasn’t as detached as he tried to portray. While she’d never considered herself the type to advocate violence, she had never faced such life and death situations before, now she understood its necessity.
Moving her hand to his abs, she stroked it up over his chest to his throat and then down to the comforting rhythm of his heart. “I’m glad I figured out who you are,” she said. “When you first showed up in my room I was... scared and confused, but...”
“What are you now?” he asked, laying his arm on the bed, curving it around her ass beneath the arm she still supported her weight on.
A smile began to grow. “Still scared and confused,” she said, exhaling a laugh before she made eye contact. “But not about you. You’ve become the one thing in my life that I can rely on.”
Tracing the edge of his thumb in an arc over the top of her ass, he managed to stoke her desire and appeal to her heart at the same time. “I’m not a reliable guy. When I get pissed off people tend to get dead and I can’t tell you what will set me off or when. Sometimes I just wake up in a bad mood.”
“And you go looking for a fight?” she asked, concerned for his safety, which was ridiculous because Brodie didn’t need anyone to worry about him. “What pisses you off?”
“It pisses me off that you’re with Grant every day,” he said. “It pisses me off that I can’t keep my eyes on you twenty-four, seven. I promised to keep you safe and I plan to keep doing that. So you can scratch scared from your list, baby. I’ve got you covered.”
It wasn’t a declaration of commitment, but it gave her an opening. “And how long will that be for?” she asked.
One lazy blink followed another. “You’re asking if this is going anywhere?” he asked, cutting through the bullshit. “Don’t do that. Planning the future is a dumb waste of time.”
Dealing with death and disaster all of his adult life had made him cynical. “Sometimes you have to plan, so that you know what to avoid,” she said. “When I was growing up, my dad wanted me to run the house, my friends were getting knocked up and married. I was never supposed to make it out of that town and if I hadn’t been so damned set on getting out of there, I never would have.”
Letting his eyes close, she could tell that he was tired. “You’re strong, baby,” he mumbled and pulled her down onto his body. “You go after what you want.”
She had to make decisions on what she wanted and go after it, because she’d learned young that no one would hand over her dream life to her. Except she’d given up hope of ever being part of anything profound that could change the world, until Brodie strolled into her life and showed her that the chance was still out there.
“And you destroy what gets in the way of what you want,” she said, reminding him of what he’d said to her.
Tired, with his guard down, and the intimacy of the moment at its height, he sighed. “When my parents died, I locked myself in this house for months. Art was my only contact with the outside world, he kept me alive.”
Pained by what he’d endured, her empathy seeped to her words. “You were still a child, you’d just lost your mother and father,” she said, understanding why his reaction had been so strong.
After losing her mother, she’d been lost too. But her father hadn’t seen anyone’s grief except his own, so Zara hadn’t been allowed to shut herself off.
“Art didn’t put pressure on me to do anything or be anyone. For the first time, I got to be myself. When he was tired of being stuck here, he walked into my bedroom and told me to pack.”
Surprised, she guessed that’s when his international adventures began. “Pack? Where did you go?”
“We went to India. I got my first tattoo there and being part of something so different to everything I’d known was invigorating. I forgot everything I’d left behind. Living a life without the expectation of my parents changed me. I promised I would never tie myself down again, that I would always be free.”
Making such a decision at thirteen was extreme, but he hadn’t reneged on it. Art’s nomadic lifestyle had become Brodie’s and was probably why Brodie had never thought to finish his education or get a traditional job. He had responsibilities now, sure. But he was still as free as the bird he took his alias from.
“You’re lucky to have had experiences like that,” she said. “I always wanted to travel, but I’ve never made it out of the States.”
“You’re bogged down by responsibility,” he said, moving his hands to squeeze and stroke her ass. “For some reason you’re addicted to working for my brother.”
“I’m not addicted,” she said, climbing up to lie on top of him, parting her legs over his hips. “I’m easily replaced and I don’t want to lose my job.”
“You think you’d lose your job ‘cause you took a vacation?” he asked and his head tipped back as his eyes became curious. “When was the last time you spoke to your dad?”
Talking about her family always made her uncomfortable. “A while ago,” she said, opening her hands on his chest. “He doesn’t need me anymore. I let him down by leaving town.”
“That why you’re scared Grant will replace you?”
She pounced onto the defensive. “I’m not scared,” she said, trying her best not to get angry with him for pushing her buttons. “Why don’t you tell me what happened between you and your brother?”
“That’s ancient history,” he said, rolling onto his side to push her body off his. “Get some sleep.”
Grateful that he’d opened up to her at all, she nestled close into him and he swept an arm around her to hold her near. Zara quite liked that his central position forced him to hold on to her. When she ran her feet up his shins again, he lifted a leg over hers to pin her feet against the mattress.
“You keep doing that, you won’t get any sleep,” he mumbled before he yawned.
It had been a long night, he’d been working, and was tired. He was also just like every other man and would probably do whatever it took to avoid having “the conversation.” Still, there was no rush. She’d made headway by just being accepted into his home. For now, incremental progress would have to be enough.
––––––––
Sleeping with Brodie was easy and waking up with his fingers playing inside her as his mouth sampled her neck was nicer. That happened twice through the night and she had ideas of waking him up in her own special way when morning came.
Except when it did and she woke up, she was alone. Brodie wasn’t in the bedroom, the bathroom or what she discovered was a walk-in closet. Taking a few minutes to examine his clothes, she learned he didn’t venture far from tee shirts, jeans, and hoodies though he had a few leather jackets as well.
One of the units in the closet was locked and required fingerprint authorization. She wondered if he had a Rolex collection or something similar that he wanted to protect. Most of the closet was empty, but if he was used to globetrotting, he probably got used to traveling light.
Being this close to his private possessions made her feel closer to the reality of who Brodie was. Glimpsing his underwear, his toothbrush, his shampoo, it was all so normal and yet he didn’t let anyone else this deep into his inner sanctum, so being able to touch these personal products made her feel special, valued, and grateful for his trust.
She showered and did her best with what she found in the bathroom to make herself presentable for the day. There was no way for her to dry her hair, but it was the weekend. She didn’t have to worry about work, so she could let her hair go a little crazy. It seemed the rest of her had. But she liked the new adventurous side of herself that Brodie brought out and she looked forward to pushing those boundaries even further.
Her stockings were gone. Her panties and bra were torn, so all she could put on was her skirt, shirt, and jacket. Examining her rumpled appearance in the bathroom mirror, she removed her jacket because it looked ridiculous to be so buttoned up when her clothes were crumpled and her hair was drying in its natural wave. But when she took it off, she was mortified to see the outline of her nipples through the sheer material of her shirt, so she put the jacket on again.
Having delayed the inevitable for long enough, she ventured into the hallway, and tried to remember which way to go. The bedroom door closed behind her and the click of the lock made her jump. The blue fingerprint pad secreted in the knob flashed, indicating that she was locked out, so she couldn’t go back inside even if she wanted to.
The first turn was easy because there were no other doors in this narrow section. She went to the end and turned right. But when she got into the next section, she wasn’t sure of what to do next. She tried a couple of doors and found a couple of different rooms, but no stairwell.
Trying further down the corridor yielded no results. When she began to panic about how long she’d spend getting lost before someone came across her, a door behind her opened and Art hung into the space wearing a smile.
“This way, girlie,” he said, holding the door open for her.
Grateful for his help, she went through the door and started down the stairs. “How did you know I was lost?” she asked over her shoulder. “I thought I was going to be wandering the house for hours.”
“Brodie turned on the motion sensors when he came downstairs,” Art said.
This statement made her pause, but Art passed her and continued to descend. Shocked that anyone had such high-tech security in their home, Zara speculated about the number of enemies these men had. “You have motion sensors?”
“Infrared too,” Art said, looking over his shoulder at her. “But he wouldn’t let us turn that on.”
“Us?” she asked.
Art had picked up speed on his descent, so she hurried after him, determined not to get lost again. Instead of going down just two flights, they went down four and she was about to question their destination when he pressed his thumb to the door in front of them and opened it to reveal a long black corridor, which ran in both directions.
“You can’t go wrong down here,” Art said, holding the door open for her.
Strips of electric blue light in the upper coving lit a series of black doors, which flanked this black space.
Once she absorbed the striking lack of features, she looked to Art. “What’s down here?”
“All of Brodie’s favorite rooms in the house. Though I guess if you stay over often enough that might change.”
He let the stairwell door close and put an arm around her shoulders to guide her down the corridor. “We have gyms and work out spaces. Shooting range, combat training, everything he needs. And of course,” Art said and stopped in front of a door that looked just like all the others to her. “Main security.”
He touched the panel by the door with his thumb and the door whooshed open. Inside was a large conference table with half a dozen chairs around it and a control desk that had at least forty different monitors in a bank in front of it.
“Wow,” she exhaled, amazed by all the blinking lights and the pictures on the screens showing various areas of the house as well as external images, from the grounds, and further afield. Periodically, the picture on each screen changed and she wondered just how many areas of the world they were capable of monitoring.
“Coffee?” he asked.
Art was already retrieving the coffee jug from the machine set up on a table near the door. She only half-nodded because she was still watching the pictures flashing on the screens. Approaching the control desk, she saw lots of buttons and lights as well as three built-in keyboards and she wondered what it all did. Looking back up at the color screens, she watched traffic building up on the main road perpendicular to CI, the picture changed and she saw the CI main entrance.
“You’re watching my work?” she asked, taking the coffee mug from Art when he came to her side.
“We watch everywhere,” he said. “We’re a small group, so technology helps us out a lot.”
“How do you afford all of this?”
“Inheritance and murderer for hire pays damn good.”
Another screen changed and the flicker caught her eye. When she recognized the picture, she stepped toward it and the shock of what she saw made her almost drop her coffee. “That’s my apartment.”
“Yep,” Art said. “The one in your bedroom goes straight to Brodie’s phone.” She whipped around ready to protest, but he laughed and held up a hand. “I’m kidding.”
“I thought he wasn’t watching anymore,” she murmured, turning back to the picture of her apartment. It was taken from outside the front of the building. The camera had to be set on the building opposite hers. But with her vast amount of windows, she could see right into the full panorama of her own living room.
Art leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I think it’s unlikely that boy will ever take his eyes off you.”
The sound of the door made her whirl around in time to see Brodie coming in with another man. Both of them were shirtless, glistening with sweat, and panting. From the way their hands were taped, she guessed that they’d been fighting, but she saw no bruises or blood, so she hoped it was all in the name of training.
“If you could make that shot I’d be out of business,” Brodie said over his shoulder to the man behind him who was unwinding the tape from his hands.
“I could make it,” the man said and that was when they noticed her.
“Hey,” Brodie said and jabbed a thumb behind him. “That’s Tuck.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Tuck said.
She apparently needed no introduction because no one offered Tuck her name. While Tuck finished unwrapping his hands, she examined him. His form was ripped, implying that he had to train as much as Brodie did. That they had to keep themselves in such good shape was a testament to their occupation. Tuck’s hair was lighter than Brodie’s, and it had flecks of much lighter blond through it.
She felt like she should say something. “How is Kadie?” she asked. Brodie and Art looked at her, and she remembered what they’d said about asking him questions.
Tuck didn’t seem to be perturbed by the question. “Infinitely understanding,” Tuck said, rolling the wraps up and closing his hands around them. “That’s how I can be sure she’s not screwing around on me. She never knows when I’ll show up or when I’ll slip out again.”
Art barked a laugh. “I dread to think what you’d do if you got there and found another dude in your place.”
Tuck slapped a hand on Brodie’s back as he passed him. “That’s what I’ve got my buddy here for.” Tuck went to the control desk and turned the swivel chair around so he could drop into it.
“You say the word and I’ll take the fucker out,” Brodie said, going over to prop himself on the control desk next to where Tuck was sitting.
“What have you got for me, pet?” Tuck muttered, stroking his hands up either side of the keyboard before he cracked his knuckles and began to type.
Zara’s eyes widened when she saw how fast his fingers moved. The lines of letters, numbers, and symbols that scrolled on the basic screen built into the unit just in front of his keys meant nothing to her. Watching him work was making her seasick, so she went back to looking at the pictures on the bank of monitors.
“Where are all of these places?” she asked, waving a hand in the general direction of every feed.
“All over,” Brodie said, twisting to look at the screens she was watching. “Tuck can tap into any existing camera, and over the years, we’ve planted plenty of our own.”
A picture flashed up on a screen to the left. She recognized the pointed arch windows, the floor, and the stone staircase as the ones she’d seen upstairs. But the carpet on the stairs was different to the one she had seen in this house. Going around the control desk, she got closer to the screen to examine it in more detail. An older woman came into view and she waved a pointed finger at her.
Glancing back at Art, she sought confirmation. “Is this the other house?”
“Yep,” Art said with a head bob.
“You told her about that?” Brodie muttered with displeasure.
Art shrugged. “Everyone knows the house exists. I mean the plans are out there for anyone who looks,” Art said. “It’s not a secret.”
“Who is she?” Zara asked, peering closer at the woman ascending the stairs.
“Tuck,” Brodie muttered and Tuck pushed along to a different keyboard. He typed something then gave Brodie the nod.
“Hey, Bess,” Brodie called and the older woman on the stairs jumped and spun around. “Say hi to the camera.”
“Oh, Brodie,” she scolded, raising a hand to her chest. “You are going to give me a heart attack!”
“Wouldn’t do that, not while the doctor isn’t home,” Brodie said, leaning back and turning his smile down. “Just checking in. Any trouble?”
“What trouble would I have on an island inhabited by myself alone?” she called out into the air, so Zara assumed she couldn’t see in here.
“Told Thad I’d check in,” Brodie said. “Call if you need anything.”
“Zave will be back with the Liberated tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about me... that boy and his gadgets,” she muttered and carried on up the stairs and out of camera range.
With half a smile, Tuck reached over and tapped the keyboard beside her then went back to his. “I’ve got two possible targets,” Tuck said. “But I wouldn’t bet my nanite processor on either of them.”
Brodie nodded and when Tuck turned his chair toward Brodie, Art crossed to stand between the two men. She didn’t know what a nanite was, but the others seemed to understand what he meant.
Brodie spoke first. “Give me the addresses and—”
“You have other business to take care of today,” Tuck said and got up. “I’m going to shower, then Art and I will check them out.” He headed for the door with Art following him. “Keep your powder dry, buddy!”
Tuck and Art disappeared and when the door closed behind them, she rounded the control desk. Brodie didn’t move or acknowledge her for a good thirty seconds.
He pounced to his feet. “Ready to roll?” he asked.
“Ready to...” But he was already on route to the door, so she went with him.
“I’ll get changed and take you home. Grab your stuff and I’ll meet you in the garage.” He paused and seemed to reconsider this. “I’ll shower in the gym. You can wait for me in there.” That was a preferable option, as she would probably get lost again if she went off on her own.
The next set of doors he took her through led to a fully equipped gym. He sat her on a bench and disappeared through a swing door, which she guessed was where the showers were because six minutes later he came out washed and ready to leave.
She’d tried not to think about how detached he was acting toward her because she’d assumed he was maintaining his masculine façade in front of his uncle and colleague. But as he took her through the house to retrieve her shoes and purse, his familiarity didn’t increase and his possible reasons for being so impersonal were beginning to concern her.
When they had her things he took her to the garage, where she noticed a vast number of vehicles, at least six bikes and four cars, though there was space for more. He retrieved two helmets from a metal cabinet, one of which he handed her before he went to maneuver a motorcycle out of its space. “I can’t get on that,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked, glancing down at the bike then back at her. “You’ve been on it before.”
His confidence never wavered. She wasn’t sure how understanding he would be about her reluctance, but climbing on a bike when she was such a mess and only half-dressed didn’t sound like a good idea to her.
“Yeah, but...”
He stashed her purse in a secret panel then got on and started the engine. “What’s the problem?” he asked but gunned the motor. When he winked, she had to concede a smile. “You can handle this much testosterone between your thighs... I’ve seen it.”
“It’s not the testosterone I’m worried about,” she said, coming closer and raising her voice when he revved the bike again. “I’m not even wearing underwear.” Opening her jacket, she showed him the proof and he took his time checking her out.
He turned off the bike and leaned back, though he didn’t get off it. “I can’t take a car out of the main gate in daylight,” he said with a half shake of his head, which might have been apologetic, yet wasn’t quite. “I can’t do it, baby.” All this secrecy was new to her, but she understood why he couldn’t take that risk. “Cab fare?”
Well if it was that or nothing, she would have to live with it. “Ok,” she mumbled and moved nearer. “You be careful tonight... Can I have my purse back?” Opening her hands toward him, she waited for him to comply.
He scowled. “I’m not gonna let you just walk out of here,” he said, alighting the bike while pulling his wallet from his pocket.
She pushed it away. “And I am not going to let you pay me for my services,” she said. “I have money for a cab.”
“Fuck,” he mumbled, and shoved his helmet onto the bars of the bike. Going over to the cabinet again, he selected a set of keys from the several on offer and came back toward her, pointing the key at her as he spoke. “If, by some miracle, we get away with this. Do not tell Art.”
“Away with what?” she asked and the lights of a shiny, grey Audi flashed when he pressed a button on the fob. “Wait.”
The first time she’d been on his bike, she hadn’t had the time to think about the merits of risking the ride. Throwing caution to the wind again, she pulled on her helmet, and hiked up her skirt to climb onto the bike. It almost tipped, but he lunged forward and caught it.
“Nothing sexier than a woman on a bike,” he said, dropping the car keys into his pocket. “You’re badass, baby.”
He shirked his jacket and wrapped it around her. It was huge, but it would serve to keep her warm. After he hopped on and put on his own helmet, he pulled her arms around him and she resolved to keep herself close.
When he revved the bike and blasted forward, she whooped and clung even tighter than she had before. He probably wouldn’t be able to breathe, but he didn’t complain. The grounds were as much of a mess as she’d imagine last night.
There was no clear path out, he swooped the bike one-way and the other. Zara would bet that he was testing her, but as she got more used to the motion, she relaxed. Brodie was proficient. He wouldn’t put her in a position where she could get hurt.
On reaching the boundary, they didn’t go out the main gate. They went through a narrow opening between the wall and the natural cliff face that rose at this point of the landscape. Further down this alley was a gate that was only a few feet wide and it was already closing before they were all the way through it.
She wasn’t sure how they activated the gate, but with their tech, they probably had a built in button somewhere. The wall carried on along the cliff for a few feet, then Brodie zoomed across the top of the slope that led to the beach and then they were on public roads. No one else was around and because there wasn’t much around here, there never would be. They had their secret entrance and now she understood what he meant about not bringing a car out of the main gate.
They pulled up behind her apartment, between the dumpsters where he’d parked before. Brodie turned off the bike and dismounted. Her legs were wobbling after he lifted her off the bike, probably because of the vibration and the adrenaline. Pulling off her helmet, he curled a hand around the back of her neck to steady her, and retrieved her purse before he guided her upstairs.
She unlocked her apartment and went inside, but he didn’t come in behind her, causing her to stop and look around for what the problem was, only she couldn’t see one.
“This is all gonna be over soon,” he said, loitering on her threshold. “Once Grant finds out about Quebec, I’d guess he’ll cancel your date.”
“It’s not a date,” she said, putting her purse and helmet on the dining table. “Are you going to come in?”
He spread his hands to opposite sides of the doorframe. “Work to do, baby.”
“If you weren’t planning on coming in, why did you bring me home?”
“It’s what’s done, right?” he said. “Didn’t other guys bring you home after...?”
Trying not to let him see her eye roll, she dumped her house keys next to her purse and went back to him. “Do you see any of those guys around here?” she asked and his narrowed eyes darted to the side as he tried to figure out what she meant. “If I wanted to be with a guy who acted in a traditional way, do you think I would’ve let you kiss me in the first place?”
Leaning further into her apartment, he took a breath and she pinched his tee shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “I don’t want you to be anything that you’re not, Brodie. I know there will be times when you’ll have to be in other places doing other things. I’m not going to throw a tantrum if I have to get a cab once in a while.”
Squinting at her, he didn’t sound pleased. “That sounds like the future talking.”
Moving closer still, she liked that he was hanging into her apartment in the way he was, because it gave her the opportunity to talk within a few millimeters of his lips. Letting their breath merge, she kept her voice to a whisper, though her smile probably wasn’t coy.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” she asked, dipping her body closer, letting her head tilt one way while his went the other. It was as though they were kissing without erasing that last tiny space between their lips.
“You’re something special, Zara Bandini,” he said, mirroring her murmuring tone.
Feigning coyness that she knew he would identify as a tease, she flirted with him. “I’m your something special, Brodie.” Raising her brows, she asked for confirmation. “Aren’t I?”
The genuine sorrow on his face made her breath stick in her throat. “I wish you could be, baby, I really do.” He tried to lean in to kiss her, but she backed off and erased their intimate flirtation.
“What are you saying?” she asked, fearing his implication.
His pity faded to let his mask of indifference rise, making it clear he didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Last night, I think I got... caught up in, you know... you were in my house, that’s never happened before and... it was nice, to live the dream for a night.”
“Live the dream?” she asked almost unable to believe what he was saying.
“Come on,” he said, releasing a hand from the doorframe to reach for her wrist, but she curved it out of his reach. “I can blow through here when I’m in town if you need a ride. And if there’s ever a boyfriend giving you shit... I’ll take care of him for you.”
Her brows rose. “If I...” Folding her arms, she told herself to calm down before she spoke, but it wasn’t easy. “I should slap you in the face, you know that?”
He opened his arms. “For a guy like me that’s practically a marriage proposal,” he said, but she wasn’t taking humor as his honest response.
“Tuck manages to maintain a normal relationship,” she said.
His head bobbed in concession. “If normal is seeing her three times a year, then yeah, I guess he does. Recently, he’s different about it... He knows he has to end it soon. He’s strung that girl along for like... I don’t know, five years or something.”
“Why does he have to end it?”
He stepped just over the threshold and bent his knees to come to her height. “Because guys like us don’t have normal.”
“Did you ever stop to ask whether or not I wanted normal?” she asked him. “Huh?”
This made him falter and he straightened up. “Well, what do you want?”
“I want you,” she said without wavering. This time yesterday, she might not have been quite so definitive in her answer. But spending the night with him had concreted her feelings and they ran far deeper than the physical.
“Baby, I’m not for sale.” He was trying to build his walls, trying to be the untouchable outlaw, but he couldn’t quite disguise his regret.
“Damn right you’re not,” she said. Grabbing his tee shirt, she twisted it in her fist, and he let her pull him forward so she could close the door of her apartment. Her confidence in the face of his letdown intrigued him enough that he let her say more. “You, Brodie McCormack”—she pushed up onto her tiptoes to bring her face as close to his as she could—“belong to me now.”
The curl of his lips was trying to contain a laugh, but she could tell he was sort of impressed by her assertiveness too. Few people would get away with taking control of any situation he was a player in. He could snap her neck in a heartbeat and she would have no way to fight him off if he chose to turn on her. To him, she was an amusing amnesty from the intensity of his life, that she thought she could coerce him into anything against his will was laughable, and she knew that.
But she was sure of her desire to explore him and their relationship further. Zara had to prove her dedication by fighting for her place at his side. Not content that she’d made the ferocity of her certainty clear, Zara let her hand trail down to his belt buckle. Seizing it in her fist, she spun around and made for her bedroom, dragging him along behind her. That he came along with her at all was proof that he wasn’t done with her yet.
