Huh. This was getting weirder.
Benny stomped through the doorway of the computer room, dropping candy corn on the way. “Hey, buddy. Heard you screwed up on a simple kidnapping mission yesterday.”
“Affirmative.” Ivar narrowed his gaze to watch Promise’s every reaction. Something heated in his chest. Something strong and protective and totally fucking weird. He didn’t like how she kept ending up in pain, and it wasn’t making a lick of sense. “What do you and Mercy O’Malley have in common?”
Benny dropped into the only other available chair—another eco-friendly piece of crap that was too small. It lurched and groaned in protest. “We’re both here in a high-rise when we should be at a better holding somewhere underground?”
“Agreed,” Ivar muttered. For decades, he’d provided mountainous headquarters, one after the other, to keep them safe. Two had been blown up, and he’d disappeared into hell places for too long, and now they were here? In a human building way too far off the ground. Hiding in plain sight was stupid, as far as he was concerned. For now, he had to play along and find the right human physicist to help them. His gut told him Promise Williams was the person he needed. “What else, Benny? You and Mercy must have more in common than we know,” he murmured.
“Mercy hit me in the nose yesterday because I called her a fairy instead of a Fae. She had to jump up to do it, but it still hurt. Both names are wimpy sounding, if you ask me, and they mean the same damn thing.” Benny shook his head. “That fairy is crazy.”
Well, so was Benny. Maybe Promise had some sort of “insane” detector? Could that be a human enhancement like being an empath? Ivar bit back a grin. “What else?”
“Nothin’.” Benny chewed thoughtfully. “She’s Fae, and she loves numbers and shit. I like to fight.” He held out his hand to offer candy, and when Ivar shook his head, he went back to chewing. “We both don’t like strawberries, but she lied yesterday about being allergic to broccoli. Just doesn’t like that salad that Faith makes and didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I hate broccoli and had no problem telling Faith her salad sucked. Then she punched me.” He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know why the females around here like to hit me.”
Faith. She was a neurosurgeon as well as being Ronan’s mate. “Where is Faith?” Maybe the doctor could explain some of this.
Benny shrugged. “How should I know? I just got here.” He popped the rest of the candy into his mouth. “When did Kane Kayrs show up in town?”
“Last night.”
“Figures.” Benny wiped blood off the side of his mouth. “The Realm just can’t butt out and let us do our jobs, can they?”
Ivar watched Promise as she obviously regained her strength and kept talking to Ronan. “He’s smart.” Though Benny was right. Dage Kayrs, King of the Realm and Kane’s brother, was in everybody’s business. Period. “I think we should tell her the truth about everything. So she can really do the calculations we need.”
Benny shook his head. “Nope. We agreed we wouldn’t tell any humans until we’ve chosen the grant recipients. She’s one of many applicants.” He tilted his head. “Though she is pretty. What color are her eyes?” He squinted and leaned closer to the monitor.
“Brown. Light brown with golden flecks.” Ivar shifted in his seat. “And she smells like a springtime breeze off the ocean through purple heather.” The flowers of his youth. He couldn’t take waiting anymore. “Enough of this.” Shoving away from his chair, he headed for the door.
Benny partially swiveled in his crappy chair, and one of the wheels rolled off, tipping him to the side. He swore and regained his balance. “What are you doing?”
“Making a mistake,” Ivar said grimly, heading into the hallway.
“Well, make it a good one,” Benny said cheerfully, turning back to the monitors, no doubt for a perfect view of the mess Ivar was about to create.
Ivar rolled his still aching wrist. Even though he’d healed the bone within an hour of crashing through the windshield, residual pain still thrummed toward his elbow. His healing powers were getting stronger but still hadn’t reached a hundred percent, even in the three months he’d been back home.
It really was as if hell, several of them, still had a grasp on him.
His boots made absolutely no sound as he maneuvered the hallway. Traveling through terrible places had taught him stealth beyond a mere immortal’s, and someday maybe he could use that fact for fun instead of survival. For now, he went on instinct.
He reached the conference room doorway and entered the room before Ronan or Kane could react.
Promise partially stood, her hand going to her throat. She gasped.
He forced a smile, and no doubt made a grimace. He’d pretty much forgotten how to smile, or rather, how to feel a smile. “Hello.”
Then she screamed.
Chapter Seven
Promise leaped to her feet and pressed back against the table. What was going on? She looked frantically toward Ronan Kayrs, who glared at Ivar with what looked like prickly irritation. “Who are you people?” She hadn’t even brought her purse in with her. There was nothing she could use as a weapon. Even her pen was the cheap rubbery kind.
Ronan stood. “You’re safe, Dr. Williams. I promise.”
Safe? Right. Safe with the man who’d tried to kidnap her. He stood between her and the door. The other two men didn’t move any more, as if not wanting to spook her. “What is happening?” Her voice shook.
Her would-be kidnapper leaned against the frame in a lame effort to appear harmless. “It’s not what you think. I’m sorry about yesterday.” His voice was even more hoarse than it had been in the car.
“Sorry?” She gulped. “You put a gun in my side.” She partially turned to see Kane Kayrs watching, his gaze alert, his body relaxed. He’d seemed like the most rational person she’d met in the office, so the sight of him remaining calm was somewhat reassuring.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” The guy at the door winced. “I’m Ivar. Ivar Kjeidsen.” He cleared his throat but didn’t move toward her. “People call me ‘Viking’ or ‘Vike.’ You can call me anything you want.”
This was not happening. Her phone was in the car. If she screamed again, would anybody come? Maybe she hadn’t screamed loud enough. Mark Brookes was somewhere in the office, wasn’t he? She drew in air.
“Please don’t scream,” Ivar said, holding both hands up. “I made a mistake yesterday, and I’m sorry.”
His eyes were so blue it almost hurt to look at them. Today he wore ripped jeans and a black button-down shirt that didn’t look right with the jeans. The mismatch should’ve made him appear endearing. It didn’t. He looked lethal.
His boots were black and large, and he’d tied his dark blond—streaked with black—hair at the neck, revealing those scars down the right side. Those burn scars. Was that why his voice was so low and hoarse? He stood at least a foot taller than she, and he had a hundred plus pounds on her—all muscle. If he wanted to block the door, she’d need the help of the other two men to get out.
Neither had moved again.
She drew on her professor voice. “Somebody explain. Right now.”
“I’m, ah, your security detail,” Ivar said. “The gun wasn’t to threaten you, but I thought you were in danger at the cemetery, and I was trying to convince you to drive out of there quickly.” He shook his head. “I was wrong.”
Security detail? Where was logic?
Ivar nodded toward Ronan, whose jaw tightened like one long muscle currently being strained.
“Right,” Ronan muttered. Then he cut Kane a look. “All right. We have the grant award narrowed down to six of you already, and one has been murdered, while the other is missing.”
“Excuse me?” Promise’s stomach jumped, and not in a good way. Nerves pinged along her scalp in a flood she identified as adrenaline. Her body received
the fight-or-flight message, and she wanted to flee. But the massive man remained at his post at the door. “You’re telling me that you assigned me a security detail, based on a grant I have not as yet received, and that detail was this lunatic with a gun?”
Laughter boomed down the hallway, and she jumped. It sounded like that Benjamin Reese man she’d just met. What was going on with these overgrown males? They were all so big and hard cut.
Ivar’s eyes twinkled, for the first time losing that overly intense expression. “Yes. The grant is for a hundred million dollars, and it has put you in danger. We’re taking your safety to heart.”
The man appeared serious, but this was insane. “What about Mark? Nobody tried to kidnap him.”
Kane cleared his throat. “The math grant he’s working on is for far less money, and he’s not in danger, unlike you. The Viking wasn’t supposed to approach you.”
The Viking. Truth be told, the man did look like one. She could imagine him leading a raiding ship years ago. An odd tingle spread through her abdomen, and she frowned. What in the laws of physics was that? Her body was really on the blink. She’d need to make a doctor’s appointment as soon as she escaped from this place. “I do not need security, and I think it’s time I went on my way.”
Ivar straightened. “You have security until the grant is awarded and is safely transferred. Whether you like it or not.”
Ronan snapped his lips shut, and Kane groaned softly. More laughter bellowed down the hallway from that Benny.
Promise put her hands on her hips. This was not making any logical sense. Not that there was illogical sense. She shook her head. “This isn’t right.”
Ivar slipped his thumbs into his front jeans pockets in the worst “aw shucks” attempt imaginable. “Everyone is mad at me now.”
Her heart didn’t soften in the slightest. Not a bit. “You said I was in danger. How so?”
His chin dropped as he no doubt went for a harmless and apologetic appearance. Instead, he looked like a predator who’d just found dinner and was trying to blend into the flora. Unsuccessfully. “It was a false alarm,” he said, his voice rough sandpaper over wood. “Again. Sorry.”
Ronan’s fingers curled over the back of the chair he’d vacated. “We can put somebody else on you, Dr. Williams.”
“No,” Ivar said shortly. “I’m her protection detail. Period.”
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. And her abdomen did the odd flop-roll it had endured earlier. Her skin flushed and sensitized. What in the world? She recognized the feelings of physical attraction, but there was no way she was feeling something for this old-world Viking. Of course, biologically, there was some logic there. From an anthropological perspective, he appeared to be capable of protecting an entire village, and she was being told she was in danger. Naturally, that made him attractive to her body, if not her brain. All right. Her brain, too. “I can hire my own protection,” she said.
Ivar snorted. “Not as good as me.”
That was probably true. The man could stop a truck if he wanted, probably. “Even so, I can take care of myself.”
“No.” He tilted his head to the side. Studying her. There was intelligence in those hues of blue—a lot of it.
She forced a smile. “If you follow me, if you harass me, I shall call the police.”
“Is that a fact?” he drawled.
“Ivar—” Ronan warned.
She nodded. “Yes. I know your name and where you work. I could have you arrested for attempted kidnapping, and I believe you assaulted a police officer in your bid to run away yesterday.” Her mind calculated the best way to respond to him, and this seemed to be it. So she kept her voice level and matter of fact, even though her heart rate had sped up. “I suggest you leave me alone, or your entire business here could be in jeopardy.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ronan. “I have no problem suing you civilly as well.”
“Man, I like her!” Benny’s loud voice boomed from down the hallway. “She’s a keeper.”
She jolted. Who were these people? “What kind of business is this, anyway?”
Ivar pushed away from the door frame. “We manufacture certain parts for crafts. Rockets, planes, and so on.”
Yes. She’d managed to dig that up herself. The secrecy probably had something to do with government contracts. These guys looked like soldiers. Maybe ex-marines turned CEOs? She cleared her throat. “What else?”
Ronan sighed. “We’re ex-soldiers, and we provide security services to many governments and private individuals around the world. All legal and all confidential. We’re the best in the business if you need protection.”
She believed every word of that because finally something made sense. “I need to meet my colleague and return to the university,” she murmured.
Ivar smiled now, and it wasn’t a completely unpleasant sight. His features were straight and strong, his jaw firm. The darker streaks through his hair intrigued her. “Dr. Brookes left fifteen minutes ago to visit one of our facilities. We assured him we’d secure you a ride back to the campus.”
If the mathematical modeling grant was in the millions as well, it wasn’t surprising Mark had done as they suggested. Of course, he didn’t know that her would-be kidnapper was among them. “I see.”
Ronan gestured toward the door. “I’ll have my driver return you to campus. I strongly recommend you hire a security force until the grant money is awarded.”
One week. She had one week to introduce a theory they liked enough to pursue. An impossible task, really. But if everyone was under the same constraints, a mere theoretical approach was all she required. Then she could have decades to prove or disprove it. “All right.”
Ivar stood straighter. “I’m for hire.” He held up his hand before she could protest. “I’m trained in firearms, knives, swords, and strategic defense, as well as in hand-to-hand and several martial arts disciplines. I’m a former soldier, and I’ve worked security detail on people marked for assassination. Not one of them died under my watch.”
It was hard to imagine she was actually in danger just because of a grant. “You held a gun on me.”
His eyes widened. “I am extraordinarily sorry about that and will not let it happen again.”
There was something about him that just threw her off. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Sure, he was handsome and sexy and had that dangerous thing going on that so many women liked. She did not like that. Her biological clock must be going haywire all of a sudden. “I appreciate the offer.”
Three phones dinged through the room in unision.
Ronan glanced at his first. “Ah, shit.”
Kane slammed his fist on the table. “Damn it.”
Keeping her gaze, Ivar drew his phone from his back pocket and read the face. His body didn’t move, and his expression didn’t change. He looked up, and his eyes had somehow darkened to a deeper blue. “Dr. Fissure was found an hour ago in eastern London, torn apart piece by piece. He’s been dead at least a week.”
Her mind jittered, and she swayed. Not Gary. Oh, God.
He grasped her arm. “The crime scene looks nearly identical to that of your friend Dr. Rashad.”
“We weren’t really friends,” Promise said. How did this make sense? She pushed her hair away from her face. “You’re telling me that somebody is butchering grant applicants? How? Why? To earn a grant?” That was insane.
Ivar glanced at Ronan and then back. “There was another killing in Sweden this morning. A Dr. Polantski was taken early and has already been found dead. The deaths were just connected this morning. The police think it’s a serial killer, and it looks like the only thing the victims have in common is that they’re the leading experts in the area of physics.”
That was an odd thing to have in common. She coughed, even as her mind quickly reviewed possibilities. Serial killers played by t
heir own rules. She’d studied a couple while taking abnormal psych as an undergraduate. “Physics.”
“Yeah,” Ivar said softly. “And you’re one of the best, right?”
“So it isn’t because of the grant,” she said, tearing her gaze away from that impossible blue and looking at Ronan.
He shook his head. “Doubtful. Although the publicity surrounding the grant might’ve put you all on a killer’s radar, and we take responsibility for that.”
A serial killer didn’t need a reason. “This doesn’t add up for me,” she murmured.
Ivar rubbed his damaged neck. “I understand that, but at the very least, you know you’re in danger, right?”
Three colleagues, all working in similar fields to hers? Yes. She understood the danger. And the men with her right now, they couldn’t have gone to Sweden and back in time to meet with her this morning. So at the very least, none of them was the killer. Of Dr. Polantski, anyway. “I—I understand I’m in danger,” she acknowledged. “But I am not your responsibility.”
Ivar frowned, his eyebrows slashing in the middle.
She breathed deep, her mind banishing any emotion. She’d done her research—these men had decades of ownership in the company. They were authentic, and now she understood why she hadn’t been able to find all the details. “However, I’m willing to hire you until they catch this killer.” While she might be confused at the moment, she was not stupid. Ivar Kjeidsen had more training than anybody else she’d find in this small college town, and she’d be a moron to refuse his help while a serial killer was targeting people like her. “Though I expect to see your personnel file before we reach an agreement.”
His shoulders relaxed, and his smile was slow. Sexy. “I bet we can drum one of those up for you.”
Chapter Eight
Ivar scouted the area outside the gray cottage, tuning in his senses for any threat. He chewed on a couple of cashews and swallowed the salt. The private road of established single-family homes was silent except for the crackle of falling red and gold leaves from thriving trees, while the ocean rolled on the other side. He followed Promise to the whitewashed front door and took the key from her. “I enter first. Every building, every time,” he said. “Understand?”
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