Eye of the Beholder Page 3

  He smiled down at her, his fondness for her written all over his face. “You’re welcome, Pita.”

  She finished off the water and handed the empty glass to Travis, who took it with a frown. She yawned, snuggling down against the pillow, the pain pill making her sleepy again. “’Night, Travis.”

  “’Night, Pita.”

  She smiled, her eyes closed as she began drifting off to sleep. The gentle kiss she imagined against her lips sent her into sweet dreams where Travis actually wanted a crazy, pushy redhead for his own.

  Travis lifted his lips from her, shaking his head over the lingering taste of peppers. He smoothed his hand over her hair, unable to resist the way the limp curls clung to his fingers.

  She needed a bath. As soon as she woke up, he’d see to it she got one. He’d have to be careful of the cast still on her wrist, but he could deal with it when the time came.

  He left her to sleep, heading into the living room to find Jordan, Jeff, Logan and Kir waiting for him. “What?”

  “Nothing. Just wondering when you’re going to move your stuff into her bedroom.” Jeff threw a piece of popcorn up into the air, catching it in his mouth. He grinned at Travis as he chewed.

  Kir grinned. “Already taken care of.”

  Travis did his best to keep his expression serene. If he had any hope of a happy life with Jamie he’d have to make sure her twin was okay with it. “You have an objection to that?”

  “Nope, but she might.”

  The two men stared at one another. Jeff looked relaxed, his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, a bowl of popcorn in his lap, but Travis knew better. Even at twenty-five, Jeff was one of the best operatives he had, mostly because people saw a slender, carefree guy with bright red hair and a cheery smile. What they failed to see was the ruthless hunter underneath, a warrior who felt quite capable of taking Travis on if he felt his sister was threatened.

  Travis wondered if that attitude would still be there if Jeff knew who he was challenging. When it came to Jamie, he had the feeling that it might.

  He could respect that. He’d still have to smack the kid down if he got in the way of Travis taking care of Jamie, but, still.

  The younger man stood and stretched, putting the bowl on the coffee table. “I’m not going to wait much longer for you guys to get your collective heads out of your asses, you know.” He looked around the room at the four of them, his intent stare lingering the longest on his older half-sister, Jordan. “You are going to tell me what the fuck is going on with the Old Man and why he turned Jamie into a piñata. Because if you don’t, I’ll be forced to find out on my own, and something tells me none of you would like that.” He smiled sweetly, reminding Travis of Jamie. “Good night, everyone.” He sauntered off toward the den with an absent wave. “I’m taking the futon, Travis.”

  Travis shook his head as he watched Jeff close the door behind him. “Fuck me.”

  “No thanks. Logan would kill me.”

  Travis closed his eyes against the incipient headache building behind his eyes. “Kir.”

  “Sorry.” The blond man sank into the seat Jeff had so recently occupied, picking up the bowl of popcorn with a sigh. “Anyone want—”

  “No.”

  Kir winced as all three of them shouted him down. “Okay, okay. I can see how you’d all be pizza’d out. You don’t have to shout, though.” He put the bowl down, fiddling with it absently. “He’s right.”

  Travis found himself staring at Jeff’s closed door. “Yeah. He is. And don’t make the mistake of thinking that was an idle threat, either. If Jeff decides to go after Grimm it’ll get ugly fast.”

  “He can’t handle what Grimm will do to him.” Jordan started pacing, a frown on that pretty face of hers. She brushed her hair behind her ear, missing the way both her men’s eyes latched onto her movements. It was obvious even to a blind man that Logan and Kir were hyper-aware of her every move. Logan sat at Kir’s feet, Kir’s hand drifting into his lover’s hair, playing with it in a way that let Travis know this was a common thing for them.

  Logan rested his head against Kir’s knee, his eyes closing wearily. “We have to figure out a way to keep them safe. Grimm isn’t going to stop here. He’s going to want Gungnir back, and he won’t hesitate to harm either Jeff or Jamie to get it.”

  “Ixnay on the Ungnir-Gay.” Jordan flapped her hands toward Jeff’s closed door.

  Logan rolled his eyes. “Right. Imm-Gray is going to want the glowy toothpick back ASAP. Any ideas, people? Because I’m damn tired of fighting that ass wipe.”

  Travis almost joined Jordan in her pacing. “I doubt he knows I’ve already handed it over to Kir. He’ll expect me to hang onto it a little tighter this time.”

  “This time?”

  The headache throbbed behind his eyes. “Yeah. This time.” He kept his expression closed, daring Jordan to question him further.

  So, of course, she did. “Do tell.” She sat on the floor next to Logan, curling her feet under her and crossing her arms over her chest.

  Travis grimaced. “What happened to Ix-nay?”

  She sniffed. “Tyr, aka Tiwaz, aka Tio, aka Tyz. The meaning of the name is god. Hence, one of the names of Odin, Hangatyr, or God of the Hanged. How pleasant is that?” She made a face as Logan snorted and Kir hung his head between his hands. “You even have a day named after you. Anyway, some of the myths say you’re Odin’s son, and if that’s true, then ew, if you’re into my sister. Other myths claim you’re one of Odin’s contemporaries. The third myth says you’re older. So, which one is it?”

  He stared down at her. “When did you have time for that? You’ve been in the hospital with Jamie every stinking waking moment.” He knew. He’d been there too, guarding her with his life. If Grimm had made one teeny tiny move toward the woman sleeping in the other room Travis would have killed him.

  Or at least tried to. They still hadn’t figured out how he’d survived Val’s numerous fatal wounds.

  She rolled her eyes. “Remember when Tweedledee and Tweedledum wouldn’t let me out of the condo so all I could do was stuff on the Internet?”

  “Because, y’know, it wasn’t like you’d been shot or anything.”

  She ignored Kir’s mumble and Logan’s glare. “That’s when I looked all that up. Now please, answer the question.”

  “I’m not on trial here.” The headache was full bore now. He’d need to take something soon, then go lie down next to Jamie.

  “No, Trav, you’re not. But every little bit you give us could help stop Grimm.” Her expression was pleading. “Please. For Jamie.”

  “Dirty pool, Grey.”

  “Tait-Saeter. Ow.” Logan rubbed his side where Jordan pinched him.

  “That reminds me. You owe me a wedding. Goober.”

  “Children, play nice.” Kir smiled wearily at the two. “Or I’ll break out the splintery stick.”

  “We’d rather you broke out the other stick.” Logan waggled his tongue at Kir, causing Jordan to fall over with a groan.

  “And on that note, I’m going to bed.” Travis turned and ran for Jamie’s bedroom, Jordan’s quiet, “coward” following him into the room.

  He closed the door behind him and stared at the woman asleep on the bed. As quietly as possible he removed his clothing, all the way down to his boxers. He lifted her up with his right arm, pulling the comforter and sheets from underneath her before putting her down again. Once she was settled back down he went to the window and examined the protection runes Logan had cast. With a sigh he added his own, overlaying the fiery symbols, integrating his own magic with that of the Jotun’s. He wondered briefly how Logan would react when he saw it, but he was just too damn tired to care.

  When he was finished he climbed wearily into bed and pulled the sheets over both of them. Spooning in as closely as he dared, he closed his eyes and willed the headache away. Her scent wrapped around him, soothing him, and before he knew it he’d nodded off.

  Grimm stood in his old
office, one hand resting on the twin raven statues, and stared at the empty case that had once held Gungnir, the Godspear. “Hugin, Munin, komme fram.”

  The stone ravens stirred, pulling apart as feathers erupted from stone bodies. They shook themselves, their beady eyes fixed on his face.

  “Finne Tyr.”

  The ravens ghosted through the walls, their flight unhampered by the physical world around them. He ground his teeth, staring at the empty case that had once housed Gungnir, the symbol of Odin’s power and rulership of the Aesir and Vanir. Fuck. If only Travis hadn’t gone all stubborn on him and refused to sell Guardian Investigations, none of this would have happened. Gungnir would still be in his possession, Baldur and Loki would still be on the run and Tyr would still be firmly under his thumb. But Travis had inexplicably resisted him, and now it was going to take some serious strategy on Grimm’s part to put everything back to rights. Rina still didn’t understand why he’d been so insistent on acquiring Travis’s business. Quite frankly, he was tired of explaining it to her. She’d just have to figure it out on her own.

  Keeping Tyr busy elsewhere and out of Grimm’s way had been a mistake. It had started during WWII, when Grimm had decided to help Hitler covertly. After all, the man had practically worshipped him. Sending Tyr to help the French Resistance had seemed like a stroke of genius at the time, and phones and air shipping of bottles of Tyr’s favorite apple brandy had made sure that Tyr stayed mostly under his thumb. He’d thought he’d sent in a spy. Instead, he’d sent in a god damn hero.

  Who knew the pain in the ass would actually help the Allies win the fucking war?

  He glowered at the empty case and deliberately turned his thoughts away from Tyr and toward his son, Vali, his grandchildren’s beloved Uncle Val.

  Traitorous bastard. Thought he could kill me, did he? Fucking idiot. Frost coated his desk as he contemplated the many ways he planned on taking his revenge on Val. If Val thought his precious niece had suffered, he was in for a rude surprise.

  Compared to what he would to do to Val he’d been downright compassionate toward Jamie.

  He booted up his computer, using the password he’d set up for just such an eventuality to get into the company’s servers. He knew Frigg had already locked him out of the system, but she didn’t know, couldn’t know, about the back door log-in he’d installed.

  Yup, there it was in black and white. Grimm and Sons was now run by that frigid bitch, Frederica Grimm, aka Frigg, and had been since the day after he’d taken off. He sat back with a sneer. Fucking cow. He did a quick run-down of the employees, not surprised to see Fred’s pansy-assed sons Magnus and Morgan were no longer with the company. Rumor had it Tyr had taken them in as well. He wasn’t surprised. Tyr’s company had become something of a haven for the useless flotsam and jetsam that had flooded Grimm and Sons. Adam Grey, Jordan’s father and the god known as Frey, remained, as did Frejya. Which was surprising, all things considered. He would have figured them for the first to bail out, considering how they’d stood by Tyr’s side on the battlefield. Sydney Saeter and Sybil Grimm, aka Sigyn and Sif, were also still on the payroll. His son Vidarr, the god of vengeance and known to humans as Victor Kippe was also still employed at Grimm, but that was no surprise. Even without the apples he’d always been loyal to the point of idiocy. Kate Berger, the goddess Skadi who’d tied Loki to the rocks and placed the snake over his head was still loyal as well. Fred Grimm, aka Thor, was still his as well. The god of the sea, Njord, had never been a part of the company, but Grimm wasn’t too worried about him. Njord, or Kye as he was now known, rarely left his seaside home. He’d have no reason to bother with Grimm’s problems unless they encroached on his domain. If they did, all hell would break loose, as Kye acknowledged neither Grimm nor Tyr as his master. As far as Grimm could tell he was still maintaining his neutrality.

  Grimm’s brows shot up in shock as one name he’d been certain to see was conspicuous in its absence. Niklas DeWitt, the god Heimdall and Guardian of the Bifrost Bridge, was no longer listed on the payroll. Grimm sat back, curious what could have made the Guardian quit. It was entirely possible Frigg had done something to piss the other god off, but what she could have done to anger him to that extent Grimm had no idea. It wasn’t like Nik hung around at the office Christmas parties, but up until now he’d been completely loyal.

  Perhaps that was it. With Grimm himself no longer at the helm, perhaps Nik had taken himself off the payroll? He filed it mentally away as something to look into, and dismissed the man from his thoughts.

  Next up, he needed to find out what had happened to his stash of elixir. Grimm keyed up the distribution list. When he saw the numbers he nearly howled in rage.

  She’d cut them off. Aesir, Vanir and Jotun, gods and giants both, she’d cut them all off. She’d turned around and started serving the elixir, his elixir, to humans. She was controlling the fucking humans with his secret weapon.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid bitch. The walls frosted over as he stared in furious disbelief at the screen. Giving the elixir to the janitor who’d cleaned up the massive amounts of Grimm’s blood had been one thing; the man wouldn’t question what had appeared to be a murder in Grimm’s very private basement. He also wouldn’t question the devices he’d had stored in the side room where he’d had his fun with Jamie. But to give it to the stockholders? What had she hoped to gain there? The elixir wouldn’t be nearly as potent in her hands as it was in his. She didn’t have the ability to manipulate others that made the apples so effective in his hands. He’d waged war to get his hands on the apples once he’d found out about their unique properties. Ingested, the subject—god, Jotun or human—became highly suggestible. Combined with Odin’s own talents as a god of lies, he’d had complete control over anyone who drank anything made of the apples of Idun. They were almost impossible to resist. Indeed, he’d thought them completely impossible to resist until Tyr managed to break free, denying him the sale of his company, Guardian Investigations, and control over Fred Grimm’s children.

  He leaned back in his chair to make room for the ravens that swooped into the room, landing exactly where they’d started from. Their feathers settled down, turning back into stone.

  “Rapport.” He rested his hand on their heads, stroking them as the information he sought played out inside his mind. Startlingly enough, they’d been unable to find Tyr.

  Grimm smiled. He had an idea of what could have happened to Tyr to take him off the ravens’ radar. He wove a complicated design over the raven statue, shrinking it down in size until it fit into his breast pocket. Later he’d break out the chain he used to wear them on and place them around his neck.

  “Are you done?” He looked up to find Rina Southerland standing in the doorway, her pale blue eyes filled with amusement. He immediately logged out of the computer and shut it down, knowing it was time to go.

  He’d been surprised when she sought him out, offering herself to him just as she always had. She’d taken him in, hidden him in a home she owned that not even Val knew about. She’d told him that she’d had other, similar homes over the years wherever they lived, just in case he needed it.

  She even had a plan for regaining control of Idunn and her apples. It needed refinement, but once all of the elements were in place he’d implement it. He’d reward her later by making her his queen, the way he should have centuries ago.

  She sauntered into the room and moved around his desk, her long, pale fingers stroking through his hair. “Mmm, I love your hair.” He leaned back into her, enjoying the silken slide of his hair through her fingers. The light caress of her fingernails sent shivers down his spine. “It’s so beautiful when you’re not hiding it.” Her free hand reached down and caressed his cock through his dress pants. “Of course, even covered up this is beautiful.”

  He pulled her down for a brief, hard kiss. “No time, my love. We need to leave before Frigg finds us here.” He stood quickly, pulling her along behind him. He exited the office, careful to leav
e no trace of his visit behind. They were silent as they left the building, the security guard asleep behind his desk thanks to Rina’s magic.

  “I think you could take the old cow,” Rina laughed as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  His grin was savage as he entered the highway. Yes, he probably could take the old cow, but why would he want to when he had Rina?

  Chapter Three

  Toni stretched in her chair, ignoring the appreciative looks of some of the men around her. Her new partner was supposed to show up any day now, but Daniel Solberg had apparently run into a hitch somewhere on the way to his desk. The captain had given him a break, something her boss never did unless it was a family emergency. But when she’d asked around, good old Danny-boy’s kids were in fine health, and so was his wife. Since his parents were deceased, what would constitute an emergency?

  She shrugged. The only way to get any extra time from Cap was to either drug him or brainwash him. Since neither one was likely, she had to assume that something was going on that Cap was okay with.

  And if Cap was okay with it, who was she to say anything?

  Finally, Detective Solberg appeared. Golden-boy pretty, with deep blue eyes, he walked with the attitude to match his looks. His eyes assessed her, a smile lighting his face that let her know he enjoyed what he saw.

  Toni snorted. If he thought he’d get anywhere with her using those tricks, he had another think coming. Better men than he, and less married, had tried and had their asses handed to them. “Detective Solberg.”

  “Detective Mancinelli.” His palm was warm and dry, his smile friendly, but something about his eyes didn’t quite mesh.

  She felt a shiver run down her spine. She’d seen eyes like those before. They’d been in the face of a killer. She waved him to his desk but made a mental note to keep an eye on him. “Yeah. Nice ta meetcha.” She waved her hand at his desk, already knowing she was in for one hell of a time. “Let’s get to work.”