by PJ Friel
I was playing on her emotions, but I didn’t care. I needed to touch that shirt.
“Sure.” She sealed the bag and handed it to me. “Thanks.”
And there went my hopes of picking something up. Dashed, just that quickly. Those bags were tamperproof and thick. I wouldn’t be able to punch my nail through it. If only I had something sharper.
Thank you, Dezi, for making me leave my dagger behind tonight.
“Thanks.”
David stood alone, waiting for me, when I came back. The sheriff and the FBI agents were walking along the lake in the other direction, which was fine by me because I’d rather deck those dudes than look at them.
“Is this Gideon’s shirt, David?” I handed him the bag.
He looked down at it and sighed. His voice broke. “Yes. I bought it for him last Christmas. Cost me a hundred bucks.”
“For a t-shirt?”
“That’s what I said.” David smiled softly, sadly and ran his hand over the plastic. “But Gideon informed me that it was vintage Def Leppard and worth every penny. He loves...loved that band.”
There was nothing I could say that would help, so I just smiled and let him hide from his grief inside a happier memory. Curiosity about what made that t-shirt so special took over for a moment. I looked down at the bag and froze.
“I’m going to go wait in my car.” He handed me the evidence bag. “Take this back for me, would you?”
I nodded, unable to speak, my eyes glued to the t-shirt locked away in plastic. Turned out it didn’t matter that I couldn’t touch it. I’d seen this shirt a little over twenty-four hours ago. A part-human, part-Jotun boy, wearing that shirt, had fired a gun at me. Gideon. Gideon was the boy from the warehouse.
Realization washed over me and I clenched my teeth, choked back my words of denial. Because I knew who had murdered David’s son.
Trygg.
CHAPTER 13
TRYGG
I leaned low over my motorcycle and blew through the orange light. I needed to get back to Mordechai’s ASAP. My world just blew up, courtesy of the FBI agents back at Bryn’s crime scene, or rather the berserkers back at the scene. I’d be shocked as hell if their credentials were legit.
I’d smelled them before I’d seen them. Their scent was a combination of earthy human and what I’d come to identify as Eau de Odin. All berserkers carried the faint scent of burnt pine on their skin. Me included. It was as if we’d been strapped to a yule log and set on fire.
What had started out tonight as a promising evening had quickly turned to shit. Those two guys weren’t just any berserkers. I had already been struggling with some memories that I had thought were safely locked away when one whiff and a look at Harry Watson’s face sent a wave flooding through my brain.
The last time I’d seen him was in England, nineteen years ago. I’d just finished up a merc job when the call came in from a service that matched up people like me with assignments requiring special abilities. The job was simple: track a missing seven-year-old little girl and report her location back to the client. No fighting required and the payout was huge. They specifically wanted someone with augmented olfactory senses.
That should have been my first clue to stay far away from that job. I’d only met a couple of people who had the same abilities as me and they were both berserkers. All I’d seen was dollar signs.
Traditional methods of searching for the girl had come to nothing because she’d been taken by Svartalf and they’d traveled via the Shadow realm—completely undetectable by normal means. They literally became shadows. Only Svartalf possessed the ability and I had no idea how they did it. I just knew it made my job next to impossible.
Harry and another man named Gunnar met me at a local pub and gave me half the fee and clothing with the girl’s scent on it. I went to work with the promise that I’d call the number Harry gave me as soon as I found out where the target was located.
But when I tracked down the warehouse where she was being kept that’s when I lost my shit.
A group of Svartalf had a tiny blonde girl strapped to a table. They were stripping the skin off her belly and performing tests on it.
I still heard her screams in my nightmares.
From that point, things get a little sketchy in my memory. I remember slipping a ski mask over my face and entering the warehouse and then it’s all just one bloody fever dream. I killed every Svartalf I could find and I made sure I found them all.
Every. Fucking. One.
When it was all over, Svartalf bodies surrounded me, in various stages of dismemberment, and the urge to hack them into even tinier pieces was hard to resist. The only thing that kept me from it was the little girl sobbing against my chest. She needed me to tell her one thing, over and over.
“The bogeyman is never coming back and no one is ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I’m here.”
I must have repeated it to her a thousand times.
I meant it every damn time.
When Harry’s team showed up, I refused to give her to them, not until they confirmed who she was and where they were taking her. I’d had my suspicions, but the truth was beyond fucked up. They probably could have taken me out, but the kid was clinging to me so tightly that she would have gotten hurt in the process. As it turned out, no one wanted that.
After Harry and I talked, I wished like hell I’d never laid eyes on any of them. My suspicions panned out. I had just rescued and was holding the sobbing great-granddaughter of Odin, ruler of the gods, and the bastard I’d sworn vengeance on.
I could strike back at Odin, giving him my final “fuck you, I’m not your puppet” message. Or I could keep my word to a seven-year-old little girl who had just been through hell and hadn’t asked for any of this.
A monster lived inside me, but I wasn’t one.
I kept my word to the girl, took my money, and left England forever. I didn’t want the temptation of knowing where she was in case I ever lost my way and decided to look her up. Turns out I left England for nothing.
Tonight, I’d kissed that same little girl—Brynja Aren Ullman. I had never expected to run into the wide-eyed little duckling I’d rescued, especially here in Akron. I also hadn’t expected her to turn into a beautiful swan who made me ache to touch her.
Funny how the Norns could just twist the shit out of a person’s wyrd.
I shook my head at my own stupidity as I zoomed down into the parking garage. Seeing Harry tonight had been the kick in the balls that I needed. I should thank the guy for helping me dodge a bullet. All that desire for Bryn was just the Monster—my berserker side—recognizing the progeny of its master. There was nothing special about Bryn herself and a relationship with her wasn’t happening.
Relationship? I scoffed at the thought. I wanted to fuck her, that’s all, but to hell with that. The Monster wasn’t controlling my cock. After tonight, I was never seeing her again.
Anyway, she was the least of my concerns. I’d been dodging any involvement with Odin’s boys for over three centuries, the only slip up being Bryn’s kidnapping. Continuing to avoid him had just become a lot harder with Harry and that other berserker roaming around Akron, looking into that kid’s murder.
Their presence meant something bigger was afoot, something linked to Outlander problems. That’s what Odin’s Warriors did. They kept Outlanders in line, ensuring we didn’t reveal our existence to humans or cause any supernatural incidents.
Just one sniff at the crime scene told me the victim was one of the men from the warehouse. That meant I couldn’t hide under a rock until the berserkers left town. I needed to be out on the streets questioning people and hunting down leads.
Magical trail cleansing aside, it was no wonder I hadn’t been able to find that guy yesterday. He’d been floating in the lake and chances were good that his partner was somewhere just as dead...or he might be the one who did it. Maybe his partner was also the one who had magically obliterated their scents from the scene.
Whoever did it was cleaning up, which left me with a couple of big questions. Who would hire the part-human, part-Jotun kid of a completely human police detective to kill a Jotun mob boss? And what did they have to gain by Mordechai’s death?
I turned off my Ducati and dismounted. I needed to warn Mordechai, because the chances of the berserkers showing up on my boss’s doorstep were better than average. I’d heard someone at the scene say that the people who had killed the boy hadn’t left the police much to work with, but that wasn’t true of berserkers. They had abilities that human police officers didn’t have and couldn’t fathom.
Racing up the stairs to the foyer, I crossed to the private elevator that went to the second floor. I keyed in my code and stepped inside for the ride to Mordechai’s quarters. I was loath to bother him if he was in for the night, but this was too important.
I rapped on Mordechai’s door. When Mist answered, I barely kept the groan behind my lips. “I need to speak with Mordechai, please.”
Her eyes narrowed and she looked like she was going to jump across the threshold and rip my throat out.
“Who is it, Mist?”
“It’s...your head of security,” she replied, her lip curling like she could barely refrain from snarling at me.
Mordechai came to the door in pajama bottoms and bare feet. “What do you need, Trygg?”
“I need to talk to you about something,” I said, glancing over at Mist. “Privately.”
“Can’t this wait until the morning?”
“I’m sorry, but no. It’s important.”
Mordechai sighed, but let me into his suite. “Mist, go back to bed. I’ll be in shortly.”
Mist glared at me, but did as Mordechai told her, tromping across the sitting room floor to make her displeasure clear.
“Close the door behind you, please,” Mordechai ordered.
She crossed the threshold, shoulders rigid, then kicked the door shut.
“She’s in a real snit this evening.” My boss glared at the door then turned the look on me. “I almost had her calmed down when you knocked on the door.”
I cringed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just sit down and talk fast.”
I sank into one of the plush chairs in the middle of the room. Mordechai poured himself a bourbon then sprawled on the couch across from me and gave me an expectant look. I hesitated. How could I give Mordechai the information he needed without bringing Bryn into things?
“Speak or I’m going back to bed.”
I sighed. “Tonight I was riding and came upon a crime scene down at the Main Street marina—”
“Was this when you took Bryn Ullman for a ride?” Mordechai asked, staring at his glass with a bored look. “Did you forget that I know everything that happens in my establishments?”
“Apparently so.” I forced a smile.
“Ms. Ullman is a private investigator. Was it her being called to this crime scene that you feel I should know about?”
I was an idiot for thinking that I could give Mordechai anything less than the complete truth. And really, why was I trying to keep Bryn out of things? My loyalty rested with the man who had given me a job and a home for the past four years, not the great-granddaughter of Odin.
The bogeyman is never coming back and no one is ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I’m here.
I shook my head. Mordechai wasn’t the bogeyman and Bryn wasn’t seven anymore. She could damn well take care of herself. I probably had a bruise over my carotid to prove it.
“Yes, she was called in. She’s friends with the victim’s father. He’s a detective for Akron PD.”
“The father is a police detective?”
“Yes. His name is David Shelton. The son’s name was Gideon.”
Mordechai sat up and placed his glass on the coffee table in front of him. His gaze pinned me to the chair. “How does any of this matter to me? Of course, I’m sorry that any father should lose his son, but it’s hardly reason for you to bother me in the middle of the night.”
I squirmed under his annoyed look. “I was allowed close to the crime scene because I was with Bryn. The kid was part Jotun.”
“And the other half?”
“Human,” I said, recalling the loamy aroma mixed with that of fresh snow.
Mordechai arched a brow. “Well. That’s unusual. Must be on the mother’s side. I know all Jotuns on the police department and David Shelton is not one of them.”
“Yes, he’s human,” I agreed.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll have it looked into. See if the boy was unstable,” Mordechai rose to his feet.
I hesitated. Mixing Outlander and human genetics was tricky and sometimes it produced horrifying results. Being unstable was the least heartbreaking. Because of that, Mordechai counseled his people to stick to their own species for mates. DG enjoyed flouting his father’s counsel. Hence, the Ice Elemental tonight.
“That’s not all.” I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. “The boy was one of the men who tried to kill you last night.”
Mordechai recoiled. “Kill me? You mean rob me.”
I shook my head. “No. I mean kill. I was waiting until after the fight, when your guests were gone, to give you my report.”
He dropped back onto the couch. “Tell me everything.”
“I was compromised when I tried to track the men from the warehouse. I couldn’t get their scent.”
“How is that possible?” He gulped his bourbon and got up to pour another. “Can I pour you one?”
I shook my head. I had enough shit clouding my brain tonight. I didn’t need to add alcohol to it.
“It had to be magic. I’ve never had it happen before. Nothing gets between me and a scent...until last night.”
“And two amateur punks who couldn’t even pull off a robbery aren’t likely to have the kind of know-how to neutralize you.” He sat back down and held the glass in his hands, staring into the amber liquid.
“No. The odds of that are stupid low. They were prepared for me, Mordechai, which means they knew who they were going after.”
“And you think they were trying to kill me.” He looked up at me. “Maybe they meant to kidnap me instead?”
“Why not just pull up, shove you into a vehicle, and drive off?”
“Okay. So, someone wants me dead. What are we thinking, Trygg? A rival?”
“At this point, I’m not sure. Is there anyone you can think sitting at the top of the ‘Kill Mordechai’ list?”
“Other than my disgruntled girlfriend?” Mordechai laughed.
“Other than her.” I chuckled.
“No. You and I both know that’s a long list of equally pissed-off people.”
I sighed and scrubbed my hand over my jaw. “Yeah. For such a nice guy, you sure have a lot of enemies.”
“Cost of doing business...if you do it well.”
“Right.” Time to drop the other bombshell on him. “Odin’s berserkers were also there tonight.”
“Well. That’s interesting.”
“I thought so. They don’t investigate every Outlander death. So, what’s special about this kid? Other than him trying to kill you.”
“If it’s some kind of conspiracy against me and they’re investigating, why haven’t they come to talk to me?”
I shrugged. “Maybe they will tomorrow.”
“Maybe. Was there anything at the crime scene to indicate who might have killed the boy?”
“No. The kid was beaten to death, stripped, and tossed into the lake. They don’t have much to go on from what I saw.”
“I see.” Mordechai gave me look that said I wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“What are you thinking?”
“How’s your relationship with Ms. Ullman?”
Oh, hell no. I was right. I did not like where he was going. “Shaky. I dumped her at the crime scene and left her without a goodbye.”
“I sugges
t you apologize for that immediately and then find out what she knows.” Mordechai drained his drink and stood up.
“I really don’t think I need her to figure out—”
“Is there a problem with you getting friendly with her? She’s an attractive girl and from what I saw on the video feeds, she seemed eager to spread her legs for you.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from clenching them at his implication. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like then, Mac?”
Shit. There was that disappointment and use of my nickname again.
His gaze bored into me and my will to argue crumbled. Mordechai’s life was in danger and he needed me to solve this quickly. If that involved fucking Bryn for information, well...what was the big deal? We’d all be getting what we wanted.
Right?
“I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
The Monster purred.
CHAPTER 14
BRYN
It was eleven and I’d been sitting at my desk for three hours. I’d skipped my morning run and come straight to work instead. I could think better here. My brain always switched into high gear when I walked into the small office that housed Simmons Investigations.
Along with the cognitive boost came a downswing in mood, though. I missed Damon Simmons, Dezi’s father and my mentor, and it was here where the loss hit me the hardest. He would have known exactly what to do about this mess with Trygg. I didn’t have a clue.
I rubbed my temples. My brain hamster kept spinning its wheel, but was getting nowhere. Weighing the pros and cons of giving Trygg’s name as a suspect was driving me crazy. I’d never been this indecisive in my life.
Pros...I’d promised David that I’d do everything in my power to help him get justice for Gideon. Handing over Trygg would give him that. David and his ex-wife deserved closure and so did Gideon. Plus, if Trygg could be convinced to flip on Mordechai, I’d be helping to rid the city of a corrupt mob boss.
Cons…I had zilch proof and I was a fool to think that a man like Trygg would leave behind any evidence for the police to connect him to Gideon’s murder. And, after talking to David last night, I knew he was one clue away from going vigilante on this. I might as well kill David myself rather than turn him loose on a powerful Outlander mob boss. At least I would make it quick and painless.