by PJ Friel
“No.” I snarled. “And I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Oh, my god! Have the two of you...?” Dezi repeated the motion.
“Stop doing that!” I banged my head on the counter and thought about Trygg sprawled on my desk while I rode him. “Yes. God, yes. We have. It was amazing.”
Dezi snickered and ran her fingers through my hair.
“What did he do that’s making you so conflicted about it?”
I sighed and peeked up at her through my eyelashes, cheeks flushed hot, lip being turned into hamburger by my teeth.
“Oh.” My bestie cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, wow. Say it, because I’m not saying it for you.”
“Say what?”
“You know what.” There was zero wiggle room in that cold hard stare.
“Argh. I think I…” I cleared my throat. “I think I might actually like him.” I held up my hand and showed her a pinch of space between my thumb and index finger. “Just a little bit.”
Dezi cackled, actually cackled, at my pain.
“I never thought I’d see the day that Ms. One-And-Done would fall for someone, especially an Outlander.” Dezi grabbed a pair of pompoms. “Ready? Okay! Ra-Ra-Rin! Give to him, Bryn! Ra-Ra-Ras! Just don’t take it up the—”
“Oy!” My head popped up off the counter. “Shut it! I did not say anything about falling for him and I definitely wouldn’t be doing butt stuff, even if I did.”
“About that—”
“Nyuh!” I held up my hand.
“Fine. Tell me what the problem is.” Dezi tossed her pompoms.
“Well, like you keep saying, he’s an Outlander.”
“We’ve had this discussion ad nauseam. Not all of them are bad, B. You’re living proof.”
“Whatever. Fine. Forget that part.”
“Forgotten.” She made poof motions next to her temples.
If only it was that easy for me.
Frustrated, I hopped off the barstool and paced in front of Dezi. I hadn’t talked to her since that night at Mordechai’s theater. She’d messaged me that Jace was home early and I took that as a Do Not Disturb sign and hadn’t bothered her with my crap.
“You wanna know what the real problem is?”
“I would lurve to know what the real problem is.” She parked herself and watched me, chin propped in her hands, elbows on the bar.
“The real problem is that he carried me across the parking garage that night he drove me to the crime scene. Carried me!” I stamped my foot to emphasize the point.
Dezi gasped dramatically, eyes wide open. “Oh, my god! Then what happened?”
I stopped pacing long enough to glare at her. That she was my best friend was the only reason Dezi was still alive and unmaimed after all the years of mocking I’d received.
“I’ll tell you what happened. He treated me like a three-year-old at a crosswalk,” I said, throwing my arms out like I was blocking someone. “Actually blocked me from crossing the street at a red light.”
Dezi banged her fist on the bar. “What an asshole. He should have let you get hit by a car. Tough love is the best love, I always say.”
I snarled, but kept my distance. There was a witness in the house and Dezi was half my size. Self-defense would never fly at a murder trial.
“He called me paranoid.”
She shook her head and tsked. “Wow. He doesn’t know you at all. I’ve never known you to be paranoid. Never ever in life. You should dump that miserable bastard.”
Mocking. Always with the mocking.
“I hate you.”
Dezi winked at me. “No you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Shut up.”
“You don’t want me to shut up.”
“I really do.”
“Too bad. So, while he’s been doing all these things, what have you been doing?”
I cringed.
“Oh, no.” She rubbed her forehead. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”
So I did, and I watched Dezi’s eyes get wider and wider and wider.
“You held a stiletto to his neck?!”
I nodded.
“And why in the hell would you think he killed Gideon?”
“I don’t know. It made sense at the time.”
“So, he knows everything about you, then? I mean, about your retrocognition.”
“Yeah. I explained about that, but he doesn’t know who I really am.”
“B, please don’t start with the royal parents thing. They are not who you really are. You are Bryn Ullman. You’re not some Svartalf princess or Aesir royalty.”
“There are a lot of people who would disagree with you.” There were some people who would do more than just disagree with her.
“I bet you Trygg wouldn’t.”
I turned my back on her challenging stare. “You don’t know that.”
“Neither do you, but I understand if you don’t trust him enough to risk it.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s the really crazy part. I’ve only known him for three days—most of which we’ve spent fighting—but...he makes me feel safe, Dez.”
“Like...how safe?”
“Like nothing could ever hurt me as long as he’s standing beside me. That kind of safe.” My cheeks got warm. I was responsible for my safety. Me, myself, and I. Admitting that I’d allow someone else to protect me, that’d I’d be vulnerable with someone, was not something I did, not even with Dezi.
“Wow.” She grinned wide. “Weren’t you the same girl who was just complaining about Trygg being overly protective?”
“Ugh.” I jammed my fists into my jeans pockets and sighed. “Go ahead. Call me an idiot.”
“Idiot.”
“Hey!” I laughed.
Dezi grinned back. “Now, admit it. You didn’t really want me to shut up.”
“Fine. I didn’t really want you to shut up.”
“I knew it.” She pulled me into a quick hug, then shoved me toward the door. “Now, go call the man, because you owe him an apology.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I looked at her kitchen clock. “My time’s up and you’re just showing off, so I’m going to get out of your hair. But I’ll take your advice and call him.”
“You know you’re always welcome to come here anytime and get my professional advice. Except next Sunday. We’re going to play ‘Minions’. I ordered all these little yellow and purple—”
“La la la!” I stuck my fingers in my ears and ran for the door.
Dezi’s laughter followed me, cutting off when she shut the door behind me, presumably to go sack her quarterback. That girl was nuts and Jace was lucky to have her. I was pretty sure he knew it, too.
Trygg was probably thinking he was the most unlucky bastard in the world right now.
Sighing, I climbed on my motorcycle and pulled out my cell phone. I had some serious making up to do, because I’d been a jerk today. I typed out a message to Trygg.
We need to talk. I hit send and waited for the response.
Twenty-five minutes later, I peeled out of Dezi’s drive. No response was answer enough. Good thing I hadn’t done something stupid like fall for him.
CHAPTER 23
TRYGG
Ninety minutes of hell.
That’s what I’d had after Bryn’s message popped up on my phone. The Monster wanted me to call her, but I was captain of this sinking ship. Not it. Whatever time I spent with Bryn was my decision. So, no messages and no calls until tomorrow. If I was even alive come tomorrow. Surviving this meeting with the berserkers wasn’t a given, which…problem solved. I’d never see Bryn again.
She’d forget about me and find someone else.
I rubbed my chest. No, goddamnit, that thought did not hurt me. I snarled at the whining monster in my head.
You’re fucking pathetic. Just stop.
The elevator door dinged open on the third floor of the Hilton. I stomped out, jaw and fists clenched, and stuck my nose in the air. One deep whiff and I
caught the scent I was looking for, Eau de Odin. It led me to their room where a bare-chested Grimm yanked the door open right as I raised my fist to knock.
“Sounded like a buffalo stampeding down the hall,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped back and allowed me to pass.
Whatever.
That asshole had augmented hearing. He would hear a gnat fart from a mile away. “You knew I was coming. What would be the point of stealth?”
Harry walked out of the bedroom and slapped a t-shirt against Grimm’s chest.
Grimm caught the garment and rolled his eyes. Apparently, low-rise, ripped up jeans were all the clothes he wanted to wear in the comfort of his hotel suite. Probably less to do with comfort and more to do with appearing as intimidating as possible. He flexed his muscular back as he pulled the t-shirt over his head and winked at me.
“Admiring my Employee of the Year trophies?” He ran his fingers over his lower back, pulling my attention to thick raised scars that disappeared into his waistband.
I arched a brow, but didn’t ask, because fuck him. Bet it was one helluva story, though. The same with those tats that covered his shoulders.
Two black ravens perched over the valknut tattoo in the middle of his back that marked him as one of Odin’s immortal warriors. For just a moment, the birds looked otherworldly and alive. They reminded me of Odin’s Ravens—Huginn and Muninn—that flew over the world and reported everything they saw to the Allfather. I shuddered.
“Long time no see, Trygg.”
I glanced over to the source of the voice and tried to hide my shock. Jace FitzRoy. Long time was an understatement. The last time I’d seen him was in Queen Victoria’s court.
“Jace. It’s been a couple centuries, give or take.”
“One hundred and seventy-eight years, to be exact. If I recall correctly, back then you called yourself Kenneth and sported a beard, a ponytail, and a skirt.”
“Kenneth is my middle name. I go by Trygg, now.” I ignored the jab about me wearing a kilt and went for the jugular. “Last time I saw you, you were blubbering in your ale over...what was her name?”
Jace sat up straighter and I smirked. I was outnumbered three to one, but I didn’t give a flying fuck. Tonight I was going to beat Jace at his instigator games.
“Her name was Elisa and you damn well know it. I was betrothed to her until you ruined her reputation.”
Yep. Still a sore spot.
“Dude. Her reputation was not my fault. She was down to fuck, so I obliged.”
“You son of a bitch. She was a virgin!”
I laughed. “She wasn’t a goddamn virgin.”
“Says you.”
“For fuck’s sake, let it go. She’s long gone.” I said the words, but I had no intention of letting this go. I was pissed that I’d been summoned here and Jace was going to pay the price for it. “I mean...it’s not like I’m fucking your current girl. Yet.”
Jace jumped to his feet, but Grimm blocked his way to me by slinging his feet up onto the coffee table.
“You lay a finger on Dezi and she’ll be the last woman you ever touch,” Jace raged.
Dezi?
“Wait. Are you dating—”
“Brynja’s best friend.” Grimm sounded bored, but the corner of his mouth was tipped up.
Motherfucker was loving this.
“Is he using Dezi to get close to Bryn?” Goddamn them. What games were they playing here?
“Fuck you, Kenny. I’m not using Dez.”
“It’s Trygg, asshole.” I decided to bring the fight to Jace since he couldn’t get to me.
“This stroll down lovers’ lane has been fun and all,” Harry said, his voice sounding tired as he stepped in front of me. “That’s enough of the dick-measuring contest. Zip up and listen up, people. We have more important things to discuss.”
“Surprised you’re not already on your knees and measuring, Harry,” Grimm sneered.
Harry flinched and looked away.
The atmosphere in the room went from tense and full of testosterone to instantly awkward. Jace shut his mouth and went back to his chair, which left me standing next to Harry with no idea what to do or say.
“Sorry, Harry.” And I was, for more than just goading Jace.
“Don’t concern yourself, mate.” Harry dismissed my concern with a wave, letting his English accent slip out, so different than the one he used as a Federal Agent.
He extended his right hand, the flush to his cheeks saying he was more bothered by Grimm’s words than he let on. He still wore the suit he’d had on earlier. Neat as a pin. The only exception was his unbuttoned collar and loosened tie. I looked at his outstretched hand and arched a brow. He winced and shoved it into his pants pocket.
Shit.
I should have shaken his hand, but he was already walking away. I didn’t care where he dipped his dick. I just didn’t want him digging in my head.
Berserkers had a host of possible abilities—sharpshooter vision, skin so tough a bullet wouldn’t pierce it, the ability to read and speak any language, the power of suggestion. Each of us had something different. I had the Super Sniffer. Jace was a healer, able to cure poisoning and fix wounds in just moments. Grimm was the ears of the group.
Then there was Harry.
From across the room, Harry could read emotions and sometimes catch a stray thought. Up close and personal, he could dig inside your head and ferret out any information he wanted. That was super useful for the group, but sometimes the target’s mind got scrambled during Harry’s dismount, no matter how careful he was.
Long story short, I didn’t want Harry to touch me, but tonight was a bad night to drive that point home.
“Please make yourself comfortable.” Harry motioned to the loveseat where Grimm sprawled.
I snorted. There was barely any room left with that behemoth sitting there. “I’ll stand, thanks. I don’t plan on being here long.”
Harry shrugged and squeezed in beside Grimm, who raised his arm to rest it along the top of the seat. I don’t know how Harry could stand to sit by the son of a bitch after that snide remark, but whatever. I wasn’t here to examine other people’s relationships. I just wanted to know what they wanted.
“Let’s get down to brass tacks, then,” Grimm said. “We have intel that the Devourers are planning something major. You’re real cozy with their leader, Mordechai Hinterland...work for him, live in his residence. What have you heard?”
“Something major like...a new musical or something? I think I heard Mordechai talking about some production coming to the Theater.”
Grimm ignored my snark and turned to Harry. “I’m not in the mood for his bullshit. I’ll hold him down. You rip what I want out of his head.”
I snarled, every muscle in my body tensed and ready to pounce. “Fucking try it, asshole.” I’d fight my way out if I had to.
“Really, Grimm?” Harry sighed and looked up at me. “Look, mate. We asked you here because we’re unable to gain access to your boss. His head of security is too good at his job.”
I smirked at the compliment. “Thanks, but flattery won’t get you shit, Harry.”
“Flattery is not my MO. What I am telling you is that you brought this on yourself. I don’t want to rummage inside your head, but if you force my hand, I will. Please, just answer Grimm’s questions.”
It was Harry’s stressed out, regretful look that convinced me not to make his night, or mine, any worse than it had to be. I didn’t have to be pleasant about it, though.
“I did answer the asshole’s question. It’s business as usual for Mordechai.”
As long as you didn’t count someone possibly trying to kill him, but I was playing that close to the vest for now. I wanted them to show me theirs before I showed them mine.
“What intel do you have that says otherwise, Harry? Is the source even credible?”
Grimm exhaled loud and long. “The source was credible.”
“Was?”
“He’s dead.” Grimm’s jaw clenched.
“Not a berserker then?”
Grimm just glared at me, but Harry spoke up. “He was someone on the inside. Told us where to find that kid’s body and in exchange for protection, he was going to give up his boss. We got into town too late. Found his dead body at the rendezvous location.”
“Shut up, Harry. I decide what information is shared.” Grimm dropped a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed.
Harry calmly placed his hand over Grimm’s and loosened his grip.
“What exactly did this guy say was going on?”
“He said that there was going to be an organized assault on the humans,” Harry said, ignoring Grimm’s glare.
“That kid wasn’t one of ours nor have we lost any of our guys,” I said, blowing off the possibility. “Besides, an organized assault on humans is suicide. Mordechai isn’t an idiot. If Outlanders make themselves known, the governments of the world will snatch them up and either weaponize them or slice and dice them for science. Why would he take that chance?”
“Dude,” Jace piped up. “It’s been three hundred years since the Outlanders were trapped here on Earth. Human population has exploded in that time. What do you think has happened to the Outlander population?”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly. They’ve been doing a lot of fucking and the result of that fucking is little baby Outlanders. And those little baby Outlanders grow up to be adults who are now chafing at the Don’t-Ask-Don’t-Tell rule they’re being forced to accept. They want to live in the open just like anyone else,” Jace said.
I sighed. “And who can blame them for wanting that?”
How many times had I wished that I could either be human or be free to tell people what I really am?
“The Allfather, that’s who,” Grimm said. “He made the rules. They need to live by them. And we need to ensure they do.”
“You mean you need to. I may carry his mark, but I’m not one of Odin’s bitches.” I locked glares with Grimm.
Grimm’s lips curled up into a smile that sent a shiver down my spine. “That tattoo on your chest says otherwise.”
How the hell did he know where my tattoo was?
“If you think you can dodge your service forever, you’re sadly mistaken.”
