Page 107 of Dangerous Mission

When I drop onto the sofa, he takes the seat across from me. “I don’t know his name, but some guy did… uh wake up after visiting a watery grave.”

Crass. God.

“Way to sugar coat it.” I groan and press a hand to my uneasy stomach. “So this isn’t a bad dream.”

More staring from the reaper.

“Does anyone ever tell you you’re scary looking?”

He studies me for a beat then grins. “Usually not the ladies. Being 6’6 has other effects on them.”

I give him a small eye roll, even though I question whether taking my eyes off of him is safe.

“Where’s Scout?”

His lips press into a firm line.

Uh oh.I don’t like that look and he’s not saying, so that’s bad. Heaving my unsteady body up, I try to climb off the couch and he gently pushes me back down. “Nope.”

“I need to talk to him. Where is he?”

“The boys are off working.”

Working as in exacting a slow and painful death on someone? The gurgling in my stomach intensifies. “On the case?”

“Working.”

So much for getting answers out of Grim.

My stomach twists around itself at the thought of what working might mean.

He unfolds from the seat, rising to his ginormous height and looks down at me. “You need to eat.”

“Who are you?”

“You can call me Grim if you like.”

My eyes shoot open. “Did I say that out loud?”

He chuckles—a dark sound—and strolls off toward the small kitchen.

“Is my brother here?” I call.

“Don’t know your brother.”

“Griffon Kane.”

He stops and pivots with military precision to look at me. A strange expression washes over his hard features, then disappears behind a wall of concern.

Um. I don’t like that look.

“You know him?”

He turns back to the kitchen and jerks open the fridge.

Feeling unsteady, I keep my butt planted on the couch. The last thing I need to do is crack my head on the coffee table. “What’s wrong?”

He gathers some items out of the fridge and places them on the counter. Fruit, yogurt, something I don’t recognize.

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