Very Much Alive (2 page)

He would have done the same for his children if Grimm hadn’t murdered them. As it was he dared not approach his living children for fear of bringing Grimm’s wrath down on their heads even more.

Mentally he tried to shake off the rage still consuming him, but it wasn’t easy. Kir’s hand caressing the steering wheel helped. His lover knew him so well, knowing instinctively what to do to ease him.

All of it, the deaths of Kir’s wife, Logan’s children, the failure of his marriage and his status as a fugitive could all be laid at one manipulative bastard’s door: Oliver Grimm.

And this time, the son of a bitch was going to pay for what he’d done.

Val Grimm walked into his father’s high rise office with no expression on his face. He knew better than to show his father any sign of weakness. “They’re in the city, sir.”

Oliver Grimm looked at his youngest child out of chilly blue eyes. “I want them dead this time. No mistakes, Val.”

“Yes, sir.” Val took a breath, not happy to deliver the next bit of news to his father. “I believe they intend to contact—”

“I don’t give a fuck who they contact. Get them out of my hair once and for all, understand?”

Val nodded his acquiescence, ignoring the unspoken threat. When his father got that dead tone in his voice, he knew better than to argue. Grimm had no further desire to hear anything from his failure of a youngest son until the deed had been done. He left, brows furrowed, the pounding headache lurking behind his eyes telling him exactly how shitty this day was going to be. But at least all of the players were in place, finally.

Maneuvering things so that all of them were together at the same time in the same city was a bitch and a half. Half the time they weren’t paying attention, and the other half? They were off chasing their dicks. But now, all but one player was on the field, and he would be arriving soon, home from, of all things,
vacation.

He shut the door to his corner office and sat in his leather chair with a sigh. He stared at the twenty or so emails waiting for his attention and grimaced. He clicked open the first one and dealt with the routine security problem someone else should have handled
before
it got to him.

He lifted his mug to his lips, frowning as the lukewarm coffee slipped down his throat.

Yup. Shitty day, all right. Sometimes living mortal is a real pain in the ass.

Grimm watched as his youngest child left his office.

What a disappointment he’s turned out to be.

He’d given the boy a simple enough task. Kill Baldur and Loki. It shouldn’t have taken centuries, but somehow time had slipped away from them, and the two banes of his existence were still running around attempting to wreak havoc.

Baldur required nothing more than to be pierced through the heart with something crafted of mistletoe. Loki, admittedly, was more difficult, with his ability to heal much faster than expected, his shapeshifting abilities, and most of all, his daughter, Hel.

But you’d think, after a millennium, Vali would have gotten it right. The boy’s penchant for toying with his intended victims was becoming more and more of a liability.

Grimm sighed and stroked the stone heads of the paired ravens sitting on his desk. Now that all of the players were in place, it was possible he would be able to take both his prodigal son and bastard blood brother out in one fell swoop, ending forever their threat to his rule of the Aesir.

All it would take would be a judicious use of his special weapon, a little trickery, and a lot of fast-talking.

All of which he had in spades. He smiled grimly at the cases of weapons lining one wall of his office, part of his “collection” of antiquities. He got up, opened the case closest to the desk, and pulled out the long spear. It was perfectly preserved, the shaft solid and warm in his grasp, the head sharp and deadly. With a simple thought the spear lit up, flaring brightly.

After all, he was still Odin.

Chapter Two

Jordan Grey rolled her eyes at the passionate clinch the two people on the screen were in. Her secretary, on the other hand, sighed blissfully.

“I have waited so long for you, my darling.”

“And I you, my sweet.”

“If not for your husband we would be man and wife now.”

“I know, Vincente, I know!”

“Oh, Gloria!”

“Oh, Vincente!”

“Oh my stomach.” The snort of laughter from the red-haired man sitting on the couch was nearly drowned out by Jamie’s outraged squawk. Jordan put her hands on her hips. “Didn’t I tell you no more dubbed foreign soaps in the office?”

“It’s a classic!” Jamie spun around in her chair and glared at her boss.

Jordan stared at the overly mustached, mullet-haired “hero”. He had the blonde, overly hair-sprayed heroine in a clinch that could only be deemed terrifying. It looked like they were licking each other’s tongues. “It’s nauseating.”

“It’s sweet.”

“No. Roses are sweet. Chocolate is sweet. This is…” She squinted, staring in horrified disbelief at the office screen. “Are those gold lamé briefs?” She shook her head. “That man is wearing gold lamé
briefs
!”

Jamie spun around in her chair so fast Jordan’s head spun. “Really?”

“Ew. You know he’s old enough to be your father, right?”

“Not in this he’s not. In this, Vincente is
hot
.” Jamie fanned her face, her expression wicked.

“Jamie. Gold lamé briefs are. Not. Hot.
Ever
.”

“Speak for yourself.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “For the love of God, make it go away.”

“Actually, I think Vincente is pretty hot, too.”

Jordan glared at Jeff, who ducked behind the book he’d been reading. “And everyone knows what great taste in men
you
have.” She turned back to Jamie. “Turn it off.” She sighed when Jamie, with a pout, complied. “That’s better.”

“God, you are such a bitch.” Jeff laughed, peeking over the book he’d been reading.

She smirked at him. “Takes a bitch to know a bitch, bitch.”

“Aw, c’mon, Jordan! The love scene was coming up. Pleeease?”

Jamie had her hands clasped in front of her, her very finest imitation of innocence plastered all over her face. Jordan looked at Jamie over the top of pretend glasses, deepening her voice to match that of her stepfather, and the twins’ father, Fred Grimm. “It is undignified for a grown woman to beg.”

“Like Dad doesn’t make your mom beg
every
night.” Jeff smirked at Jordan’s look of horror.

“
Ew
!” Her brother and sister laughed as she stuck her fingers in her ears, scrunched her eyes shut and started yelling, “Lalalalalala,” at the top of her lungs. She’d never do something like that with clients in the office, but it was lunchtime, so she knew the place was empty. Besides, who else could she cut loose with but the Wonder Twins?

Jordan opened her eyes, ready to laugh, startled when she saw Jamie shaking her head. She stopped mid-“la”. Jeff’s mouth was hanging open in horrified amusement.

Oh, no. Clients. I look like an idiot in front of clients. Crap. Travis is gonna kill me.

Jordan turned and saw the two most gorgeous men she’d ever seen in her life standing in her doorway.

I look like an idiot in front of hot clients. Double-crap.

The dark-haired one was obviously laughing at her. The wickedest smile she’d ever seen rested on a pair of full, sensual lips. Dark eyes danced as she slowly removed her fingers from her ears. He had a small gold nose ring marring an otherwise perfect nose. He was a full head taller than her in her heeled boots, and half a head taller than his companion, with broad shoulders encased in black leather. Ripped, dark blue jeans encased muscular legs, leading down to a pair of black sneakers. Rich, dark red hair tumbled around his head, making him look like he’d just crawled out of bed.

Bad boy alert.

Jordan was a sucker for bad boys. She could feel the saliva pooling in her mouth as her gaze traveled back up his legs, pausing at the impressive package outlined by his jeans, to that wide chest and back to his face. She felt her cheeks heat as he stared back with a hot, knowing look.

Embarrassed to be caught staring like a lusty teenager, she turned her direction to his companion.

Oh. My. God.

The blond next to him was…was…words failed her at the other vision of ultimate hotness standing before her. Long, pale blond hair cascaded down to just brush his shoulders. Blue eyes the color of forget-me-nots were wide open as he obviously fought off a laugh. His upper lip formed a perfect cupid’s bow, something that should have looked feminine. On him, it just made her want to lick to see if he tasted as good as he looked. His full lower lip trembled with his efforts not to laugh. He was broad shouldered and muscular under his black suede coat. He, too, wore blue jeans and black sneakers, but where on the redhead they played up his dangerous looks, on the blond it was like wrapping paper on a present. She just wanted to rip into it and see what was underneath.

Apart, they were incredible. Together, they were enough to stun the most jaded of feminine eyes. She had the urge to stamp her name across each of their foreheads before anyone else got a look at them.

Angel and demon, eh?

A brief vision of her between the two of them, light and dark, yin and yang, flashed through her mind. She squished it before it could go too far and get her in trouble.

Make that double trouble.
“Welcome to Guardian Investigations. Can I help you gentlemen?” She nearly sighed in relief at the professional, only slightly breathless tone she managed.

“We’re here to see Jordan Grey.”

Jordan held back a shiver as the deep voice of the redhead washed over her. He had a slight accent that slurred his es’s a little bit. “I’m Jordan Grey.”

The two men exchanged a look she couldn’t decipher. “See? I told you she’d be perfect.”

The blond rolled his eyes and turned back to her. “We need your help.” The blond had the same accent.

Jordan sighed.
Damn. Definitely clients.
Which meant Demon Boy and Archangel were off-limits.
Double damn.
She waved them into her office, glad that the twins were already maneuvering to leave. “Pleased to meet you. Is there anything my staff can get you before we sit down and discuss your case?”

“Coffee, if you don’t mind.” The redhead sauntered in and sat on one of the chairs in front of her desk.

The blond followed, smiling at Jeff, who practically drooled all over him. The blond sat in the other chair and turned that devastating smile on Jamie. “Water, please, thank you.”

His double-u sound was a cross between a double-u and a vee, and suddenly she placed the accent. After all, she heard it every day. She smiled. “Are you two Norwegian?”

They turned and looked at each other, then back at her. “Yes. How did you know?”

She smiled broadly as she sat behind her desk. “My father has the same accent.”

“We—” the blond cut off as the redhead elbowed him, hard, “—need your help.”

She nearly frowned at the obvious gesture. Blondie had meant to say something else. Something like,
We know
, perhaps?

“Logan Saeter.” The redhead stood halfway, holding out his hand.

Jordan shook it briefly and turned to the blond, who stood completely. “Kiran Tait.” That devastating smile was still on his lips, warm and inviting. “Call me Kir.”

“Pleased to meet you. How can I help you gentlemen?”

They waited until Jamie brought in the coffee and water, shutting the door behind her, before Logan spoke. “We need to prove that Oliver Grimm attempted to murder Kir and frame me for it.”

Jordan couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. “Excuse me?”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Jordan stared at Kir. Kir stared back. He looked like he was
willing
her to believe Logan. “Oliver Grimm, head of Grimm and Sons?”

Kir nodded. Logan looked amused.

Jordan stood. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I don’t think I can help you.”

Logan snorted. He turned to Kir and grinned. “She thinks she can’t help us.”

Kir frowned at Logan. “Shush.” He turned back to Jordan and smiled that angel’s smile. “We know Grimm is like your grandfather. It’s why we wanted to work with you. If we can get you to believe us, perhaps we have a chance of proving it to the rest of the world.”

She stared at him like he’d just grown another perfect head on those perfect shoulders. “Are you freakin’ insane?”

He blinked, looking startled as her voice went from cultured smoothness to a rough Philly accent in two seconds flat. Logan snickered, his expression delighted as Jordan lit into them with both barrels.

“He’s my
grandfather
.”

“Step-grandfather.”

“
Doesn’t matter!
Hello? Conflict of interest here!”

“That’s the whole point. If someone with your ethics believes us, and can
prove
it, we’ll be able to see to it that Grimm is punished for what he’s done.”

She looked back and forth between the two of them, angel and demon, and wondered if they were actually telling the truth. Logan had a smirk on his face, but he still managed to look viciously determined. Kir looked…hopeful. Like his fate rested in her hands. Add in that Oliver Grimm was a cold son-of-a-bitch who scared the bejesus out of her, and…

Fuck.
Kir blinked, the wistful hope on his face tugging at her heart.
Puppy dog eyes. I’m screwed.
She was a total sucker, and she knew it. She sighed and sat down. “Tell me your story.”
Man, I am
so
gonna regret this…

Kir grinned.
Yes!
They’d gotten her to hear them out. Now, if he could curb Logan’s natural instinct to yank people’s chains, they might get her to agree to help them.

“I have an…unusual tale to tell. Do you like mythology, Ms. Grey?”

The look on Logan’s face was priceless. One brow rose as he turned to Kir with a
What the hell are you doing?!?
expression. They’d talked strategy in the car on their way over to Jordan’s office, and this
wasn’t
what they’d discussed.