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Grant had taken her to the party in the Grand ballroom and furnished her with a flute of champagne. Art told her to put the alcohol down, but with frayed nerves, she was hesitant to comply. At least she was until he reminded her the camera in her necklace would go into the ladies room with her if she needed to pee. After that, she stopped drinking and just used the glass as a prop.
Maintaining a distance from festivities, Zara chose to remain on the fringes of the room and not to interact. “I want to dance,” she said, keeping her back to the wall and her glass over her lips as she watched the glitterati mingle. “I wonder if my new boyfriend dances.”
She didn’t really want to dance, but she’d been here for nearly two hours and she imagined the men in the building opposite were getting as restless as she felt. So she decided to needle Brodie while he could do nothing to prevent her.
“Let him take you to Rio during Carnival and you’ll find out,” Art said through the earpiece.
Imagining the lives of the people she was watching and those of the men supporting her tonight, she was struck by the differences. “You know, this whole experience has made me realize...” she murmured. “Adventure is all around us.”
“Stop talking,” Brodie said in a monotone that betrayed his displeasure.
Her initial thought that he was just being grumpy and impatient was replaced when she realized her support team couldn’t see her here in the ballroom at the rear of the building. But they could see the frontage, where they could be witnessing anything, and withholding the information from her.
“Should I be worried?” she asked and then explained herself. “We’re worried about a chemical agent and we know this device is on the premises.”
“Can you see Grant?” Art asked her.
The last time she’d seen him, he was on the dance floor with a blonde. Zara stepped out of the shadow to examine the partygoers and spotted Grant in a small group of serious men.
“Yes,” she said, aware of her frown but unable to remove it. “He’s networking.”
“As long as you keep him in sight, you’ll be safe. He’s not going to unleash any noxious gases while he’s in range,” Art said in a cool but reassuring voice.
Zara relaxed because that made sense. “You’re a smart guy, Art,” she said, returning to her dark cocoon and her teasing. “It’s a wonder you let yourself be dragged down by that lug head you live with.”
Art laughed but Brodie spoke up, “Pretty baby, you let that smart mouth run away as much as you like, it can spend all night apologizing. Spend less time talking and more thinking about that.”
Hiding her smile, Zara sought out Grant again to check his position. Except he was coming through the crowd toward her, so she erased the smile Brodie had put on her face. “Four men just entered the conference room,” Art said, returning to the cause at hand.
Taking her weight off the wall, Zara composed herself in time for Grant arriving at her position. His grave expression made her skin prickle into gooseflesh, but she tried not to display any hesitation because her boss had to believe that she was strong enough to face this without folding.
“It’s time to go,” Grant said, offering her his arm.
Upholding her air of naivety about the situation, she smiled and took his arm, allowing him to lead her out of the ballroom.
“Two more targets in the zone,” Art said through the earpiece.
Two voices. Two locations. It was difficult to follow both without revealing the truth of what she was doing to Grant. Over time, it would probably be easier to slide in and out of the present moment as the Kindred blathered in your ear. But Zara was concentrating on Grant, letting him guide her towards a dangerous situation she wasn’t trained to handle and her trepidation was making her ears ring.
When they got to the elevator, Grant stepped away enough to press the call button. “I appreciate your support,” Grant said. “Your loyalty is valuable to me. I don’t want you to think I underestimate it.”
Grant took her arm again when the elevator came and they moved into it together. “What’s going to happen up here?” she asked. “I can be more valuable to you if I know what to expect.”
“Good,” Art said in her ear. “Find out what he anticipates.”
Grant didn’t respond right away, in fact it felt like an age before he said anything, to the point that Zara began to wonder if he was just going to ignore her question.
“I don’t know exactly what will happen,” Grant said, curling his fingers over hers at his elbow. “Whatever does happen, play along and I’ll explain later.”
That wasn’t the reassuring answer she’d hoped for. But it would have to do because they got to their floor and Grant ushered her along the corridor toward the conference room they’d been in before. Her heart began to race. As much as she tried to keep her breathing steady, her fingers began to shake. She couldn’t ask for comfort from her protectors. With Grant so close, she had to be mute.
“I’m there with you, baby. All the way,” Brodie murmured in her ear.
Much to her surprise, her fingertips were on the line of diamonds around her neck. They must have risen to the jewels to seek solace from Brodie. Knowing that her lover had sensed her need encouraged her to carry on and she took a deep breath before Grant opened the conference room door.
She had expected people to be here, but not so many, or maybe not so many ominous ones. The sight of six intimidating men made this once generous space feel much more confined.
“Albert Sutcliffe,” a broad man in a brown suit came to her and held out a hand.
She glanced at Grant for some kind of direction, but got none, so she gave Sutcliffe her hand. “Zara Bandini,” she said in introduction.
He kissed her knuckles and made eye contact while the others in the room paid her no attention. “I apologize for the trauma you incurred on the night you met my nephew Tim,” Sutcliffe said to her.
Grant had moved away from her side, but only by a couple of feet. Still, he said nothing to the revelation Albert Sutcliffe had just made, implying he hadn’t been paying attention to the exchange. Grant probably had enough on his mind. It hadn’t occurred to her that the connection might be referenced, and so she didn’t know how to react. She was saved the trouble of fumbling through the encounter when Grant parted from her to shake the hand of the man in a brilliant white shirt and a stylish hat.
“Kahlil,” Grant said, shaking his hand.
“My superior is not happy,” Kahlil said, drawing his eyes away from Sutcliffe. “We want to conclude dealings.”
Sutcliffe didn’t appear as cold as Kahlil and so far they were the only two to come forward. It was obvious they had no love for each other and Kahlil didn’t even try to appear accommodating.
Sutcliffe didn’t give Kahlil a second look. He maintained his attention on her and Grant. “Once we are satisfied with the results, dealings will conclude in my favor,” Sutcliffe said. A man came in behind him to punctuate Sutcliffe’s arrogance with a menacing glare. Apparently, Sutcliffe hired men to do the cold, evil thing for him.
“You are all too eager.” The voice came from the couch facing the window that she couldn’t see because Kahlil, Sutcliffe, and his man were blocking her view.
“Nykiel Sikorski,” Art said. “He’s a crazy motherfucker.”
The men who were restricting her view parted at the same time someone rose from the couch. The very tall man was sleek and wore a silver grey suit that made him look expensive. While she wouldn’t call him particularly cold, there was an ice in his demeanor. One that suggested he experienced little emotion.
“Let us see what we have before we start wars with each other over it,” Sikorski said.
He went to the conference table and pulled out a chair to seat himself. The other men followed his lead and did the same. Two men dressed in a similar manner to Sikorski stayed standing in front of the window and she was conscious of how they might block Brodie’s line of sight.
“Take a seat, Ms. Bandini,” Sutcliffe said, gesturing at the seat beside his.
Instead of sitting there, she smiled and selected the seat closest to the door, furthest from the men, which just happened to be at the foot of the table. If Brodie had to take action, she didn’t want to block his shot or become an accident.
Grant remained standing and made eye contact with her before retrieving a laptop from a side unit. He moved to the head of the table and opened the computer. Then, after pressing a few buttons, he laid it down for all to see.
Although it was a large screen laptop, it took a few seconds for her to realize what she was looking at. It was a movie or... video feed. Taking in the faces and the features in the room, clarity hit her.
“That’s the ballroom downstairs,” she said, setting her eyes on Grant.
“Yes,” Sutcliffe said, as though what she’d said was explanatory not an exclamation.
“I’ve got it,” Tuck said. “We’re watching the feed with you.” Now she understood how useful Tuck’s skills could be. He had obviously hacked into Grant’s computer, giving the men supporting her a view of what she was seeing.
“I’m staying on you, baby,” Brodie said, more interested in protecting her than seeing what was going on.
Relying on Grant’s earlier statement that no one would get hurt, Zara watched the screen. People were milling around, sipping their champagne while glad-handing. Nothing remarkable was happening. Unsure of what she was supposed to be seeing, Zara kept watching. The people were happy to be at the event and no one seemed to be sick.
Everyone was silent, in this room and the one across the street. They all seemed so intent and she waited for the penny to drop. “That’s one way to do it,” Tuck muttered.
“Check this, Rave,” Art said in the earpiece, but he wasn’t talking to her.
“I’m not taking my eye off the room,” Brodie said. “Talk me through it.”
“Do you see it, girlie?” Art said, though she couldn’t respond.
No one in her room was speaking yet, so she peered closer at the mute screen, attempting to decipher the significance of what they were witnessing, but she couldn’t figure it out. The woman with the sleek blonde French roll in the center of the screen tossed her head back in a wild abandon not typically seen at these events, that was her first clue. When a man propped a hand on the shoulder of a colleague to support his weight, Zara saw that he was laughing. Every face she looked at was contorted in hilarity.
“Nitrous oxide,” Grant said, leaning over to hit a key on the keyboard. The screen froze, then he closed the laptop lid. “This device has proven it can disseminate any gas. We at CI have some compressed concentrated canisters that can be sold with the device. The technology has been refined by our best technicians and can be controlled from anywhere in the world.”
No word about what had happened to those technicians though, and she glimpsed each face for a sign that might imply one of these men were culpable. Nothing jumped out at her. Nothing except how surreal Grant’s pitch was. It was reminiscent of any usual presentation at CI. Except this wasn’t a normal day at the office. Grant was selling death today, though one would be forgiven for not realizing it.
Grant carried on. “Plant a few of these devices in major cities, in hospitals, stadiums, in airports, you trigger them for short amounts of time intermittently, and it would take months for authorities to trace the source. In that time, if you used something communicable then it’s spreading, even while the device is dormant.”
Zara’s mouth fell open and she wanted to call out in protest. Until now, she’d been able to bargain away Grant’s guilt, believing that he didn’t wish anyone harm or that he didn’t understand the gravity of what these criminals would do with the technology. There was no mistaking his intention anymore.
Sensing her need to object, Brodie preempted her outburst. “Easy, baby,” Brodie murmured in her ear, making her shiver, and reminding her of the precariousness of where she was.
The others in the room were unfazed; none appeared to be horrified as she was. “We will have to consult with colleagues,” Sikorski said, speaking for the group without their permission.
Grant nodded as though he’d expected this and it was traditional for there to be a pitch before negotiations commenced. “I understand,” Grant said, bending to spread his hands on the table. “Final bids will be expected within two weeks.”
“And delivery?” Sutcliffe asked and the three prospective buyers all awaited an answer.
Explaining delivery was Grant’s worry. “We have plans to make,” Kahlil said. “We will not delay for—”
“Something unforeseen occurred,” Grant said. His look in her direction suggested that he wanted support or back up. As far as she was concerned, he was looking in the wrong place. “Our main production facility was compromised and my men were killed.”
Now it was their turn to appear horrified. A delay would be unacceptable, but they were fine with killing hundreds or thousands of people. Zara had never considered the priorities of terrorists before. Apparently, they worked to deadlines on a calendar just like the rest of the population. “Interesting,” Sikorski said, drawing out the word. “You have some enemies of your own. Disgruntled customers?”
Grant shook his head. “I assure you that we produce only the highest quality merchandise.”
Sikorski was unsatisfied. “If an unhappy customer did not cause the damage, was it an industrial accident?”
“We are investigating,” Grant said. “CI is a multinational with a superb health and safety record. I lost good men at that facility and I assure you that I will find out what happened to them... exactly what happened.”
Being at the foot of the table, she couldn’t see the expressions on each of the bidder’s faces, which were turned to Grant at the opposite end of the table. Grant looked at every man individually with a stern frown that almost accused them of knowing more than they were revealing.
Sikorski was the first to rise, with Kahlil and Sutcliffe not too far behind. Once on their feet their goons joined them. They waited half a beat and then departed in one drove with Grant bidding the three main men farewell with a handshake.
Watching him treat this like any other business meeting and these men like clients who should be respected, flummoxed her to the point of putting her in a daze. These men were terrorists with nefarious intentions. Grant was not only supporting those intentions, but he was facilitating and accelerating them.
Disregarding the support crew she had in her ear, when the door to the conference room closed, she and Grant were alone, but the atmosphere crowded the place until she almost choked with claustrophobia.
“Well, that didn’t go as badly as I expected,” Grant said and touched his palm to his temple for a brief moment. “I thought they’d push for a delivery date. But until I find out what happened... I don’t know what we can salvage or how long it will take us to produce more devices. With limited resources... Anyway... sorry, that’s not your concern. What do you think?”
When he turned, she got her first good look at him. The wide set of his hopeful brows and the looseness in his jaw baffled her. Taking a moment to process, Zara curled her lip over her teeth to bite out her frustration.
“What do I think? What do I think?” Her outrage gained momentum. “I can’t support this,” Zara said, thrusting away from the table to storm over to him.
His brows fell until the harsh slices altered his expression into anger, indicating he hadn’t expected her to have this reaction. Grant didn’t shrink or apologize. “Zara, you have to understand—”
“I can’t,” she said, stopping a couple of feet from him. “You’re talking about murder on a huge scale. Why would you believe that this is a good idea? How could you have instigated—”
“The technology could be used for so many purposes,” he said, gesturing with his hands. “People have died for this. People have to see what it’s capable of. It’s the only way anyone will take it seriously.”
She couldn’t believe these excuses anymore. “You’re trying to downplay what just happened, but I was here, Grant. You’re going to be party to murder and for what? Money? Is that what this is about?”
“No!” he objected and stormed past her toward the top of the table. “We have always been a pioneering firm and forward planning is key to keeping us on top. The world is changing, Zara. We’re becoming segregated by ideology. In the future, countries won’t exist as we recognize them today. We at CI have to align ourselves with a purpose.”
Unable to believe her ears, she dipped her chin forward. “Align ourselves with a purpose,” she murmured, in disbelief. “You mean you want to get into bed with these people? This is about more than money and investment in the future... you want to get into the war game.”
Still adamant, he gestured with a stern hand. “I want us to be decisive. I want people to know what CI stands for. I don’t want polished soundbites and politically correct ad campaigns. I want to take action and after this, no one will doubt that the CI giant can make changes in the world on a grand scale.”
Shaking her head, some of her gusto dispersed into disappointment. There was a time she would have walked through fire for this man. She had built him up, respected him, believed in him. “I can’t believe you’re saying this,” she whispered.
He softened his posture and his expression but his words were as vehement. “I have to prove that this will work. All my father cared about was his damn company and his misguided morals.”
“Misguided?” she said, finding some starch to bolster her. This was not a time to be shocked and meek, this was a time to stand up and push back against a harmful force. It had just never occurred to her that she could be working under a man who was so unethical. “Your father wanted to protect people. He wanted to build machines that would help people, not hurt them.”
“And I will not be limited by his lack of vision. The world is changing, Zara, and if you can’t see that then you’re as narrow-minded as he was. People like Sutcliffe and Kahlil or Sikorski are the future customers of our company. Have you seen the state of our economy, of the global economy? Governments can’t afford our products and they’re cutting the budgets of those who can. We have to look at reality and stop pretending that we live in this utopian world that doesn’t exist!”
“Is this their ideology? Or yours?” she asked, approaching the table again. “You sound like... this kind of rhetoric... Grant, the security services hunt down people like you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head and slamming a hand to the laptop. “I want to work for the benefit of the world and no one can deny that there are people who need to be stopped before they come for us. How will you feel if you walk away from this and next month a hundred people die in a horrific attack?”
Widening her eyes, she lifted her hands. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about!” He didn’t appear to understand her perspective. With her hands opened towards herself at shoulder height, she beseeched him as she walked closer. “People will die, Grant, civilians will die. If you put something like that out into the world, you can’t take it back. If you give it to these people then they will use it and you can’t direct how they do that.”
“You don’t understand,” he muttered like he was disappointed by her lack of foresight. “I want to hurt those who call us infidels and disrespect any religion except their own. We have to fight back. Our government’s hands are tied. We’re fighting an inferno with a bucket and spade. We need the ocean, Zara. I want to be the ocean.”
“The ocean,” she sighed.
Western nations had been attacked without notice and their civilians killed in unwarranted attacks. Few would argue that those transgressions weren’t atrocious. The world was facing a new age where individuals could operate under their own volition in acts of war without the support of their governments. But those misdeeds didn’t justify others taking the law into their own hands.
“You don’t understand,” he murmured again and his shoulders sagged until his hands landed on the table.
Releasing the tension in her shoulders, her arms fell to her sides. “No, I don’t. You have to stop this, Grant and until you do...”
Rising from his position bent over the table, his scowl intensified. “What?” he asked. “Until I do, what?”
Shaking her head, she was surprised at how emotional she felt about what she was going to say. “Until you do, I’m not coming back... if you want someone to fuel this insanity then you better keep looking. It’s not going to be me.”
“Now, Zara, just wait a minute.”
“No,” she said, backing toward the door when he started to come toward her. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t be a part of this.”
Turning around, she hurried to the door and got out of there as fast as she could without looking back. Her reaction hadn’t been a part of any plan and she hadn’t expected to end this day by quitting her job. Putting one foot in front of the other, she concentrated on the deep carpet that wasn’t conducive to an upset person who was walking in high heels. She got to the elevator and pressed the call button about five times.
Those in her ear were silent. At least she couldn’t hear them through the noise ringing in her ears. She felt like she was listening to a car alarm while submerged in water and she just couldn’t focus. The elevator came and she went inside, but she had to blink at the buttons for a few seconds before registering which one to press.
When the doors closed, she let herself relax on an exhale, and opened her arms to support herself on the rail at the back of the elevator. Closing her eyes, Zara couldn’t remember the plan. There had been talk of what to do if everything went wrong, but none of what to do if everything went right.
Though she couldn’t fathom how what had happened could be construed as right by any measure. What she really needed to do was to go into the restroom, wash her face, and give herself a good shake. But she didn’t want her audience to know how rattled she was, so she kept going.
On getting out of the hotel, she stormed down the block while fishing in her ear to remove the tiny piece of tech linking her to the team. Tipping her head to make sure it didn’t get lost, she peeled the thin transparent film from her ear and pressed it into her palm. Quelling her urge to toss it aside, she kept it because she didn’t know how much it was worth or if it could be traced.
Replaying what had gone on tonight, she got mad when she came out of her daze and began planning her next move. Grant wasn’t willing to listen to her and she would be no use to the Kindred now that she’d quit her job. But that didn’t mean she was going to bow her head and forget what she’d learned.
Half a dozen blocks away from the hotel, she began to think about hailing a cab. Her daze was wearing off and sense was coming back, if she walked the couple of miles to her apartment, her shoes would end up hurting her feet, and she didn’t need pain on top of everything else.
Just before she stepped off the sidewalk to cross an alley, the roar of a motorcycle sounded. But paying little heed to it, she kept on moving, that was until the vehicle came in to her peripheral vision. It roared forward and stopped right in front of her. Taking her gaze from the front tire blocking her route, she saw that Brodie was the rider, and this encounter was no accident.
“Baby, you’re a natural,” he said with a lopsided smile that made her want to slap him.
Finding that her anger had not entirely receded, she growled. “Get your bike out of my way.”
Either he ignored her mood or he didn’t care, because he carried on without addressing it. “The guys are heading back. We have a debrief. It’s time to go home.”
“I am going home, back to my apartment,” she said and tried to back off.
But while still straddling the bike, he lunged toward her to hook his solid arm around her waist. He hauled her close and held her against his thigh so she was near enough for a kiss.
His breath heated her cheek. “That place isn’t safe for you tonight. Only one place you’ll be safe tonight, baby, and that’s on your back under me.”
Grinding her teeth, Zara didn’t want her fury to explode in this public arena. “Let go of me,” she murmured.
“You’re pissed,” he said and his smugness wasn’t concerned. “Atta girl... use it.”
Bending forward, he pressed his face into her hair and tried to kiss her neck. But she tilted her head toward him to refuse his mouth access. Slapping her palms onto his leather jacket, Zara shoved at him enough that his arms and expression loosened, but he didn’t actually let her go.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she demanded, using the anger as he’d suggested. “I can’t believe I ever listened to anything you had to say. You were there tonight. Did you hear the same thing I did? Those men are dangerous and they plan to level the world. How dare you expect me to go anywhere with you! You want to know where I’m going? To the cops! As soon as I heard what this was about I should’ve gone to the authorities to let them deal with it. But I didn’t, I got swept up by you and by this idea of vigilantism and adventure, like I could make some kind of goddamn difference. People have already died and maybe—”
“What?” he snapped, echoing her mood. “The cops could’ve saved them? Those guys were crooks, all of ‘em. You go to the cops now and what are you gonna tell them? You have no evidence, not one shred, and you won’t have anyone to back up your story. You’ll sound like a nut!”
Undeterred, she pushed her shoulders back. “Better a nut with a clean conscience than a crook with a guilty one.”
With his own anger, Brodie argued with her. “You go to the cops now and that’s it, you’re out. Grant won’t take you back. You’ll lose our protection. And you’ll become enemy number one to every man you met tonight. How long do you think you’ll last out there by yourself?”
“Better dead than useless,” she said, smacking the earpiece onto his leg then reaching around to unfasten the diamonds. He flicked the earpiece away but stuffed the diamonds into his pocket after she handed them over.
“The ear piece begins to breakdown once it’s deactivated,” he said. “It uses your body heat as a power source.”
She didn’t care about how anything worked anymore. Zara just wanted to go back to her mundane life. “You can take down the cameras you have watching my apartment too.”
Narrowing his eyes, the snarl returned to his voice. “We’re a little busy trying to save civilization,” he said. “Call your cable guy for tech support.”
Shaking her head, she refused to feel guilty. “You have no right to be angry at me. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do,” she said.
“I didn’t ask you to abandon the team,” he said, his voice growing huskier.
Distraught and disoriented, she didn’t know what to think anymore. “Your team... they’re your team, not mine. When you’re through and I’m useless to you, you’ll move on... they’re your team,” she said and let her gaze fall to the thick breadth of his thigh wrapped in dark blue denim.
In a maneuver that surprised her, he grabbed hold of her chin and forced her head up until their noses almost touched.
“You don’t think you’re a member of the goddamn team? Five people have had boots on the floor in my house over the last twenty years. You want to know how many women I’ve fucked in that bed? One. You. I’m sorry if we didn’t roll out the red carpet, baby. We’re a low profile bunch. Most fuckers in this world think I’m dead, fewer people than that know Tuck’s real name and Art would never have brought you in if he didn’t intend on keeping you. You want to end your association with me, pretty baby, that’s just fine. But don’t you dare insult those men who have trusted you with their identities and therefore their lives... You came to us. You sought us out.”
His rage was offense. This was his way of processing hurt. But she couldn’t let him change history as it suited him. “You researched me, you have a camera opposite my apartment,” she said without retreating from her staunch position. But he was right. Art, Tuck, and Brodie had trusted her with their secrets. Zara just hadn’t realized how profound that was and hadn’t understood that it inferred her acceptance on the team.
“What we do is look out for each other and you are a part of that now, Zar. That camera protects you. It was designed by my cousin, Zave, who lives in the twin house,” he said, tracing his fingers up to her cheekbone. “We call him Falcon. He’s a hardware genius. He designed, developed, and built every device we use. Priority one for the Kindred: we watch each other’s backs. Falc can build anything we ask for and Swift can write any software to run it. Between them, they have built the Kindred an impressive arsenal of weapons and gear to reinforce priority one. Like your necklace and the earpiece, those kept you safe. If you weren’t a part of the team, you wouldn’t have had any of it.”
Her anger had lost some of its steam, but she still had questions. “Why didn’t you shoot tonight? I thought the plan—”
“If you’d told me to shoot, I would have,” he said. Both of his hands touched her cheekbones, he let them drift down in an arc, allowing his thumbs to trace the apples of her cheeks.
Touched, aroused, angry, confused, it was all so exhausting. Losing herself in him was easy, especially when his focus on her was absolute and she felt powerful to have such a man enraptured in her.
“Without question?” she whispered.
“Without question,” he said and his eyes descended to her mouth.
“Because I’m part of the team?”
“And because you’ve got me by the balls, baby,” he said.
Reading a softness in his features that she’d never seen before, she was reminded of his voice in her ear promising that he was with her, and of his refusal to take his eye from the gun scope while she was surrounded by those dangerous men.
Drowning in his scrutiny, she wasn’t sure he was aware of the conversation anymore. Whispering her hope, she exposed her own vulnerability to him. “Could it be that another part of your anatomy is in play?”
“My mouth?” he asked, perplexed by her statement.
He didn’t see how she was in knots for him, didn’t understand how much she needed him to admit his devotion to her because until she knew he wanted her beyond this mission, she would be in a continual state of tension, of fear that he might turn his back on her when all of this was over. “Your heart,” she said, abandoning her anger and relaxing her weight to his thigh where the rumble of the bike carried through him to her.
“It doesn’t matter, does it? If you’re leaving the team, we’ll never see each other again.”
Because he would shut her out or because he didn’t think she would live long if she followed through on her threat to go to the authorities, she didn’t want to ask which he meant.
Leaving the team was probably a good idea for her, if for no other reason than it might spare her a heartbreak, but she was fast losing her ability to defy him. “The cops have the resources—”
“Trust me,” he said, narrowing his eyes and his lips at the same time, imploring her to believe him. “Come inside, all the way. Commit to us.”
Zara knew that talking in terms of the team made it easier for him to ignore the truth of what was happening between them. Without the heat of her anger, she longed for the comfort and security of the Kindred, and of him.
“What do I have to do?” she asked.
He reached to the back to free the helmet meant for her then held it toward her. “Get on the bike and come back to base.”
Holding eye contact for another few seconds, she relented and took her helmet to pull it on before using her grip on his shoulder to climb onto the bike.
He turned up the collar of his jacket and hunkered low while Zara wrapped her arms around his torso. He pulled her arms tighter and revved the engine a couple of times before taking off. She still had so many questions about what had happened tonight and what their plan would be going forward. Hoping that she would have the chance to figure everything out at this debrief, she resolved herself to not making any decisions until after it.
Just because she was not as worldly or street smart as these guys didn’t mean she should be dismissed. She had people skills that none of the men had displayed. Constant conflict and working in intense situations had hardened them all and any social skills they may have once had were diminished. Art was kind, Tuck seemed indifferent to her. But Brodie could barely hold a conversation without it being overtaken by some emotion or other, and he had the discretion of an M1A1 tank on a freeway.
Taking up with a bad boy intent on taking down terrorists and quitting her job had not been on her New Year’s resolutions list. Her life was unrecognizable to how it had been just a few weeks ago. Her eyes had been opened and now that they were, she couldn’t close them again. Grant did not intend to listen to her or to be swayed by her. She just hoped that the Kindred were different.
