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A week went by and life returned to normal. Attending meetings with Grant in CI and taking her work home with her was so normal that it was bizarre. When staring at herself in the mirror, Zara questioned whether or not Brodie, the terrorists, and the device had ever actually been a part of her life or if she’d imagined the whole thing.
The two-week deadline would be up on the next Saturday. So if she expected to affect the decision she would have to find a way to bring up Game Time with Grant soon.
After working much later than she should have in her home office, Zara took a shower. While drying her hair, she anticipated getting some sleep and waking up with a better perspective. She left her bedroom to turn off the lights and check the door only to discover that someone had already killed the lights in the living room.
Brodie usually commandeered her in her bedroom. The figure she noticed sitting on her couch now was more respectful of her private space, but still hadn’t gone to the trouble of knocking and requesting entry as a normal person would. But Art did teach Brodie everything he knew, so she shouldn’t be surprised that the uncle took such liberties too.
“Well,” she said, pausing to take a deep breath. “I expected one of you sooner than this.”
“Rave?”
She folded her arms. “No, I figured it would be you or Swift. I know how stubborn Rave is and he made his feelings about coming back pretty clear.”
“The boy is an idiot,” Art said, shifting forward and resting his elbows on his knees to clasp his hands.
“An idiot who you trained,” she said, maintaining her distance. “What do you want?”
In many ways, Art’s betrayal was more hurtful than Brodie’s. He portrayed himself as a sage individual who knew the ways of the world. Yet, he had chosen to talk to her about his nephew and Zara’s relationship as though he was trying to form a bond with her and she’d bought it.
At least when Brodie spoke of their relationship he was vague and non-committal, seemingly, as confused as she was about what they had and where it was going.
“I told him to tell you the truth from the start.”
“At the start you wanted him to dump me,” she said, not relenting her high ground. “Or was that a lie too? Was it all an elaborate ruse to make me believe I meant more to you all than I actually did?”
Even saying the words made her feel foolish because she had believed it, every word of it. Before meeting Brodie, she would never have classified herself as a desperate woman. Looking back she would assert herself as being happy without a man, she didn’t need a relationship for validation.
But she had been desperate for adventure and being a part of the Kindred for however short a time, made her feel that she was a part of something bigger. Grant’s inferiority complex was starting to make sense to her.
“At the beginning I didn’t know what you were. I knew he was caught up in you, infatuated. But after that first night, when we had dinner in here together, I knew it was something more. Because even in spite of your shitty mood, you glowed when Rave came near you.”
“Then you left here and decided to start bullshitting me. Sorry if I don’t buy your story.” Art got up and she glanced toward the window then sidestepped to move herself into the shadow of one of her columns. “Is he out there?” she asked.
Art stopped and glanced at the window. “What?”
“Is Rave out there? Setup beside one of your illegal cameras ready to tie up loose ends? Where is it you’re supposed to have me stand so he can get a clean shot?”
“He wouldn’t,” Art said, losing his contrition and replacing it with anger. “He’s in love with you. I don’t think he’s ever been in love. He could no more hurt you than you could take a shot at him.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t test your theory at this point. Are they watching? Are they in your ear? What is it you want me to say? I’m not interested in helping any of you anymore. You’ve lied to me for so long—”
“The only lie was that we weren’t responsible for Quebec. Everything else was genuine.”
Except she had no reason to trust him. “Why would you lie when—”
“Because when you first heard us discussing the plans, you panicked and had a fit then claimed you were going to tell Grant. Rave, Swift, and me, we’ve been doing this a long time and we’re of one mind when it comes to what needs to be done. We made a decision and we acted. Rave said he didn’t want to burden you, but I... Calling him a murderer like you did—”
“Yeah, I know, it cut him deep. You said that already.”
She could be facetious and try in vain to hold onto her anger but the truth was that she had more anger toward herself than toward anyone else. She wanted to believe Art’s declaration of Brodie’s love, despite all the evidence contradicting that assertion, and that gullibility just took her back to self-loathing.
“It did,” Art said.
“Tell me why you’re here tonight. Going over the past serves no purpose. It’s just a waste of your time and mine... and the time of your buddies listening in.”
“No one’s listening in,” he said, opening his hands wide enough to spread his jacket to show that he had no weapons. No weapons didn’t mean he was alone. He was part of a flock who hunted and hid together. Each knew the other and she’d been taught that their priority mission was to watch each other’s backs, so it was doubtful that he was out alone.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, dropping a shoulder to the column and rolling her eyes upward. “Just say your piece.”
He gnashed his teeth before snapping. “Rave told us not to come near you again. Told us you were unviable and off-limits. It’s unlike him to be so protective of—”
“Rave,” she muttered and peered at him as she shifted her weight to her feet again. “Why do you keep using his alias? You don’t trust me? You think I’m recording—”
“When we’re away from base, we always use aliases,” Art said, closing the space left between them while lowering his volume. “Anyone could be listening.”
Making eye contact helped her find clarity. “You’ve bugged this place too, you or him. You heard my conversation with Grant?”
“More is the point that Rave heard it,” Art whispered and she brought a hand up to cover her dry mouth. “You said some hurtful things, girlie.”
“I was making a point,” she exhaled. “If your goal tonight is to make me feel sorry for him then you’re underestimating how your audience feels.” Fortifying her confidence, she wouldn’t let her compassion overwhelm her sense.
But he wasn’t deterred by her statement. “I know exactly how you feel, girlie, and you’re as sunk as he is. You won’t get me to believe anything else. You’re not angry with him, you’re hurt, and that’s why you’re acting this way. Your pride was bruised when you thought maybe he used you. Your heart too.”
Vicious in her retort, she wanted to scream. “He did use me,” she said, setting her jaw and averting her attention.
With a curled finger on her cheekbone, he brought her eyes back to his. “He loves you, button. Trust me on that.”
When she blinked two tears skittered down her face and on an inhale, she lifted her head out of his reach and stepped back. The touch was too reminiscent of Brodie’s, and she didn’t need that now, not when Art’s words were so close to home.
“You should go,” she said. “I need you to leave now or I’ll have to call the authorities.”
“You wouldn’t call them on either of my boys,” Art said, not doing the gentlemanly thing and departing at her request.
“Please,” she said, pleading with him to let this be.
“Our mutual friend went to great lengths to conceal his association with you. While we had regular access to your apartment, we scanned the environment to preclude any chance of being surveyed. But make no mistake, not all threats were neutralized. I came here to let you know there may be others who know you’re playing both sides.”
“Playing...” Believing it was his intention to rile her, Zara chose not to rise to the bait. “You can be assured that my loyalty is not split. I have been with Grant McCormack for half a decade and he has never endangered me.”
“Never?” he asked, proceeding his word with a gentle nod. “Like putting you in a room with terrorists?”
“He wasn’t the one with the gun pointed at my head,” she said, letting her vehemence speak for itself. “I won’t be drawn in by your kind anymore. I don’t need advice. I don’t need assistance. I need to be left alone.”
She glared into his soft expression and tried to imagine how he had trained Brodie to kill. This man had two faces: one was kind and unthreatening but the other had the capability to cut down a man without a blink. The trick to surviving the Kindred’s gauntlet was not to be drawn in by that first face.
Zara would only survive this ordeal by not blinking first. Taught by these men not to show weakness, she remained steadfast until Art retreated and eventually left her apartment.
Only when she was alone did she let herself sag. Though she hadn’t admitted it to him, she was disturbed by the idea of being listened to in her own home. It had been bad enough to think people were watching her, to think of them hearing her as well was just too much. It was one violation too many.
Going into her bedroom, she got dressed and packed a bag. An interested party may follow or trace her location, but she would still be out of the web that was closing around her and for one night, that would have to be enough for her.
––––––––
A night in a hotel didn’t settle her. Zara woke up at frequent intervals and had to remind herself that she wasn’t at the manor.
Brodie had broken into her psyche and she’d come to expect him at her side or in her periphery at least. Getting over the treachery of his actual motivation for coming into her bed meant also accepting that she was now in a precarious situation without a safety net.
At work, this reality played itself over again in her mind until she resolved herself to do something about it. So marching into Grant’s office without declaring herself, she was seated in the guest chair before he diverted his concentration away from his computer.
“I don’t think you should do this.”
Placing a hand on the lid of his laptop, he pushed it down, then locked his fingers together on top of the machine. “I have just sent an encrypted message to all parties. Sutcliffe was the successful bidder. His bid was actually the lowest, so you can be assured that this was not about the money.”
Mortified that she hadn’t had any influence over the progression, the inevitability of what would happen next took her fear to a new level. “I thought you were going to consult with me,” she said, having not expected him to have acted in such haste without due notice.
“I didn’t want you to have the burden of this decision.”
“The burden of being an accessory to mass murder? Is that what you meant? Because it’s what we both are.” Rising from her seat, she leaned over the desk. “Brodie wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want you to... to collaborate with these people. Please... he... you said that he killed the men in your lab... did you think about why he did that? Maybe it was a warning.”
His eyes widened. “You think he was threatening me?” Grant asked, sounding more annoyed than intimidated and she could practically see his competitive hackles rising.
“No, I meant warning you that this isn’t a good idea.” As much as she didn’t want to give Brodie any points for personality, she did want to get through to Grant. “He could’ve come for you if he wanted to hurt you, to defeat or outmaneuver you. He could have attacked you, but he didn’t. He tried to take away your opportunity to make this deal, to do harm. In effect, he intended to take away your ability to harm yourself.” Stepping back from the desk, she sank back into her chair. “Maybe that’s what he was trying to do.”
Saving people from themselves seemed to be a specialty of Brodie McCormack’s. The burden of living with complicity was heavy enough to slow a person. Art had told her that Brodie believed he’d lost his humanity, at least some of it, and Brodie had told her that he hid his darkness from her. With his deception followed by his rejection, he had saved her from him. Just like he’d tried to save Grant from making this deal.
“What do you know of his intentions?” Grant asked, dismissing her. “You don’t know how coarse and uneducated he is. Brodie fights dirty and he has never intended to help me in his life. All he cares about is himself and winning.”
Except if that were true he’d have taken Grant out of the picture and coaxed her back into his bed for sport. But she had no way to convey that to Grant without betraying her own association with the brother Grant loathed.
“Delivery is to be made within the week,” Grant said. “I’ll need you to make plans to ensure the secrecy of the handover.”
And after that statement, he opened his laptop and went back to work. She wasn’t going to start an argument, because she could tell she wasn’t getting through to him, but she had bought herself a clue as to who might.
