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“Want to what?” she asked, and scowled after he cut himself off. “Want to stick around? Want to be worthy of you? Thanks, I need you questioning that right now when you know I’ve been… This isn’t about me.” She wasn’t going to bring up her insecurities when he was in this kind of mood because he might say something they wouldn’t be able to take back. “Kahlil says he knows the truth. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. Do you want to pass up the chance to find out? Shouldn’t you at least talk to him or listen to the recording of what he said to me?”
“I know the truth. They’re dead. End of story. Go upstairs and pack your shit. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
When Brodie was done with a conversation, it was over. She wanted to support him, but did that mean respecting his predictable reaction to the news? Or was she supposed to coax him into changing his mind? Kahlil had implied that was what he wanted her to do, but she wasn’t going to make the decision based on his recommendation. She wanted what was best for Brodie.
Hearing the name of the boat and the implication that there had been foul play had shockedher, and Kahlil wasn’t even talking about her parents. Brodie would need time to process this. While he did, she could foresee herself taking the brunt of his emotional journey until he came to a conclusion about what he wanted to do. She wasn’t finished talking about Future’s Hope, she’d just have to bide her time.
As much as she didn’t want to go to Rigor’s with Brodie, Zara went upstairs and did as she was told. All they could do there was sit on their asses speculating about Leatt. There was little else to do about it now that the trail had gone cold.
Given what she’d just told Brodie about Kahlil and his parents’ demise, he was angry, and taking that to Rigor would culminate in the two men fighting. With Kahlil, Leatt, and Cuckoo featuring in their circle now, they didn’t need any more enemies. Explaining that to Brodie wouldn’t alter the inevitable. Reasoning with him was never easy.
Kahlil was supposed to have gone away, back into his hole, after failing to secure Game Time during the first round of bidding. If he was flickering on their radar again, that could indicate other bidders wouldn’t be far behind. Sikorski could know the same as he did and he might make his own play for Game Time. On top of that, either group could be in league with Leatt.
With Sutcliffe and Grant gone, there could be a feeding frenzy. Kahlil was right that no one else at CI knew about the device. Both he and Sikorski had put eyes on her. Sikorski was the other failed bidder she’d met at the Grand. Art had said he was a crazy person associated with the Russian Bratva, which was just the kind of guy she needed on her tail.
After packing her suitcase, she put it near the foot-board and rounded to sit on the bed, cross-legged, right in the middle. Going to Rigor’s was nothing but disadvantages because she’d miss their spacious bed here, and with Cuckoo taking up residence in Zara’s abode, all she had to look forward to were the cramped conditions at Rigor’s.
Brodie hadn’t come upstairs, but she’d packed quickly. In the gym shower, he’d have peace and quiet and might take the chance to reconsider or at least think through what Kahlil was offering, so she wouldn’t rush him. Using the time she had to herself, she reflected on her day. CI was her past, Brodie had made sure of that, and by giving Cuckoo her apartment, Brodie was making sure Zara had to stay here with him, and he’d been pushing for that for a while.
She didn’t mind giving up CI. Working there hadn’t been the same since Brodie came into her life and she saw the truth of Grant’s capabilities. Now that he was dead, he could never be redeemed, meaning they could never go back to the way things were. Brodie had shown her that opportunities existed for her to have adventures and make a difference. CI had been a compromise, she’d settled there and convinced herself that she loved it, too afraid to take the chance of finding something more fulfilling.
The Kindred were her future and one she could be proud of, if Brodie didn’t lose his patience with her. Kahlil could offer the truth of the most pivotal moment in Brodie’s past. Her thoughts on the subject grew to critical mass until a burst of air came from her lips, and she dipped her head into her open palms. They couldn’t let this pass them by. If she was curious, Brodie had to be too. If the guilty party was out there, then there was a chance of justice, Kindred style. Brodie wouldn’t be interested in evidential proof or courts of law. This was his family. If there were secrets in her family, she would want to know them, so she couldn’t believe Brodie was that much different.
A buzzing sound interrupted her reverie and made her frown. She had no idea what could be making the sound in their bedroom, and it wasn’t a noise she recognized.Rotating her body, the first thing her attention snagged on was Brodie’s nightstand, where they kept the sex toys. His control in bed extended to every aspect of her pleasure delivery.
Crawling to the nightstand, she pulled open the drawer to see if he’d found some way to activate the devices from a remote location. Everything in there was quiet. Brodie wasn’t sending her any message that she was to get started on the foreplay solo.
The buzzing got louder and she slunk off the bed in a crouch, craning to follow the sound to a source.Settling on her purse, which was on top of her suitcase, she pulled apart the opening to see her cell phone illuminated in a green glow. Green. It flashed that color when someone was calling her apartment’s hard line.
Calls hadn’t gone through the physical phone line connected to her apartment for ages. During Brodie’s grieving period, Tuck had worked his magic and now they were part of her Kindred phone profile, meaning all calls to her apartment landline were routed to whatever was her current cell line.
The number flashing on the screen brought a bitter taste to her tongue. It was her father.
Clearing her throat, she picked up, watching the bedroom door in case Brodie came in to join her. “Dad?”
She didn’t even bother with hello. Pleasant social calls had never been a feature of their relationship. Bad news was the only reason she could figure for this call.
“Zara,” he barked, in his gruff smoker’s voice. “Good. Thought your number might be different.”
Good guess because it had changed more than once. That he was getting to talk to her was a testament to Tuck’s skills rather than dumb luck.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, backing toward the bed to lean on the foot-board. The last thing she needed was a battle with her family. Soon she was going to be working to convince Brodie of the merits of remaining faithful to his own and getting justice for his parents. “You never call, is there—”
“It’s your brother,” he said, giving her the courtesy of getting straight to the point. “We figure since you’ve been up in that big city with the fancy job for so long, you gotta have some serious dough, right?”
Money. Well, at least no one was terminal. As bad news went, she’d take financial worries over health woes any day. “I don’t... How much do you need?” She wasn’t rich by any stretch, but if her father was lowering himself to tapping her resources, they must be in serious need.
“Just twenty grand.”
Just... Her mouth fell open. “I can’t get my hands in that much. Why do you need it?”
“Your brother got bit by the IRS, bastards, they want paid for doing jackshit or they’re taking the farm. That’s our land, been in the family for—”
“I understand.” Her father cared more for the dirt than he did his own daughter.
Chastising her father and brother for not paying their taxes on time would be redundant and hypocritical. Her boyfriend shot people for a living and had probably never paid taxes in his life.
Still, twenty grand was almost the total amount of her savings, and she was reluctant to hand that over when she knew it would never be repaid. If the roles were reversed, her father would be more likely to give her an earful than a handout.
