Read Online Cuckoo (Kindred Book 3) by Scarlett Finn - Free Book Online
Authors: Scarlett Finn
Ads: Link
and why he wanted to meet with her. It was disconcerting that he knew her well enough to want to talk to her while she had no idea who he was. That left her at an instant disadvantage.
Less than five paces into the room, she paused, her vision snagged on the black leather chair that hadn’t been used since Grant was last here. Grant. The room still smelled like him. Rolling her lips around her teeth, she squeezed hard but couldn’t stop her chin from wobbling. Maybe that was why this was so difficult. Grant was gone. He had nurtured CI, it was his legacy, his passion, and now like a lost child, it stood as an ominous reminder of what was missing. This building was a glass and steel headstone bearing the name of the man she had once idolized and who would never again visit its hallways.
It would be easy to attribute her emotional reaction to thoughts of Grant McCormack to the five years they worked together when there were good times. But it wasn’t so much the man himself, or the happy times they shared, that she grieved. Her regret came from the way things ended, so abruptly that no one got the chance to say goodbye.
And guilt. The weight of it kept her awake. It was ironic that she could see strangers die and hear of Brodie’s work without blinking an eye, yet the demise of one man who had become their enemy plagued her. That fact was the root of her guilt.
He had become their enemy. But why was that? Because of her. Maybe the foundation of their animosity had been laid when they were teenagers, but it was her involvement in their lives, in their work, and relationship that had caused the rift to become terminal. She felt guilty about coming between the brothers, which was crazy, because they’d had years to make amends with each other and neither cared.
Zara knew what it was to live without family and what it was to want the approval of a parent or the support of a sibling and to be left hanging. Her father didn’t contact her anymore, and in years gone by, when she mustered the courage to call home, the conversation was so strained that she eventually gave up trying to force it. Her mother was long dead. Her brother was too busy being a dumbass to think about stepping up for her. To her family, it was as if she’d ceased to exist because she chose to make decisions for herself instead of relying on theirs.
At one time, she relied on CI and on Grant to fill that hole. Losing both now was like losing an old friend or breaking up with a long-term partner. She knew there was nothing for her here, that she didn’t want this life anymore, but it didn’t make turning her back any easier.
Her future was with Brodie and the Kindred. What they did was so dangerous, as Grant and Art’s deaths had shown, that the void within her was always precariously close to becoming vacant. It could come at any second. Brodie had enemies and one of them could be loitering in any shadowy corner, ready to take her love away from her without any warning.
“I guess I’m early.”
Spinning on the spot, all of her thoughts jarred to an abrupt halt when she identified the man who had spoken. “Oh my God,” she whispered, forgetting to inhale before she sealed her lips.
“Kahlil Samara,” he said, coming into the room with his hand extended.
Her body went into lockdown. She was so stiff, she couldn’t move, though her eyes were doing a crazy job of trying to find any troops he might have brought with him. He got over to her and stopped, lifting his hand higher as he smiled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, casting off her surprise so as not to betray how he’d caught her off guard.
She and Kahlil had met months ago in the Grand Hotel conference room during Grant’s negotiations into selling Game Time. But she’d been aware of him before then after overhearing a meeting between her boss and this man. Having believed that she’d made a discreet escape, she was then attacked by Kahlil’s security men in the CI
Less than five paces into the room, she paused, her vision snagged on the black leather chair that hadn’t been used since Grant was last here. Grant. The room still smelled like him. Rolling her lips around her teeth, she squeezed hard but couldn’t stop her chin from wobbling. Maybe that was why this was so difficult. Grant was gone. He had nurtured CI, it was his legacy, his passion, and now like a lost child, it stood as an ominous reminder of what was missing. This building was a glass and steel headstone bearing the name of the man she had once idolized and who would never again visit its hallways.
It would be easy to attribute her emotional reaction to thoughts of Grant McCormack to the five years they worked together when there were good times. But it wasn’t so much the man himself, or the happy times they shared, that she grieved. Her regret came from the way things ended, so abruptly that no one got the chance to say goodbye.
And guilt. The weight of it kept her awake. It was ironic that she could see strangers die and hear of Brodie’s work without blinking an eye, yet the demise of one man who had become their enemy plagued her. That fact was the root of her guilt.
He had become their enemy. But why was that? Because of her. Maybe the foundation of their animosity had been laid when they were teenagers, but it was her involvement in their lives, in their work, and relationship that had caused the rift to become terminal. She felt guilty about coming between the brothers, which was crazy, because they’d had years to make amends with each other and neither cared.
Zara knew what it was to live without family and what it was to want the approval of a parent or the support of a sibling and to be left hanging. Her father didn’t contact her anymore, and in years gone by, when she mustered the courage to call home, the conversation was so strained that she eventually gave up trying to force it. Her mother was long dead. Her brother was too busy being a dumbass to think about stepping up for her. To her family, it was as if she’d ceased to exist because she chose to make decisions for herself instead of relying on theirs.
At one time, she relied on CI and on Grant to fill that hole. Losing both now was like losing an old friend or breaking up with a long-term partner. She knew there was nothing for her here, that she didn’t want this life anymore, but it didn’t make turning her back any easier.
Her future was with Brodie and the Kindred. What they did was so dangerous, as Grant and Art’s deaths had shown, that the void within her was always precariously close to becoming vacant. It could come at any second. Brodie had enemies and one of them could be loitering in any shadowy corner, ready to take her love away from her without any warning.
“I guess I’m early.”
Spinning on the spot, all of her thoughts jarred to an abrupt halt when she identified the man who had spoken. “Oh my God,” she whispered, forgetting to inhale before she sealed her lips.
“Kahlil Samara,” he said, coming into the room with his hand extended.
Her body went into lockdown. She was so stiff, she couldn’t move, though her eyes were doing a crazy job of trying to find any troops he might have brought with him. He got over to her and stopped, lifting his hand higher as he smiled.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, casting off her surprise so as not to betray how he’d caught her off guard.
She and Kahlil had met months ago in the Grand Hotel conference room during Grant’s negotiations into selling Game Time. But she’d been aware of him before then after overhearing a meeting between her boss and this man. Having believed that she’d made a discreet escape, she was then attacked by Kahlil’s security men in the CI
Similar Books
