to see Kane Kayrs watching, his gaze alert, his body relaxed. He’d seemed like the most rational person she’d met in the office, so the sight of him remaining calm was somewhat reassuring.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” The guy at the door winced. “I’m Ivar. Ivar Kjeidsen.” He cleared his throat but didn’t move toward her. “People call me ‘Viking’ or ‘Vike.’ You can call me anything you want.”
This was not happening. Her phone was in the car. If she screamed again, would anybody come? Maybe she hadn’t screamed loud enough. Mark Brookes was somewhere in the office, wasn’t he? She drew in air.
“Please don’t scream,” Ivar said, holding both hands up. “I made a mistake yesterday, and I’m sorry.”
His eyes were so blue it almost hurt to look at them. Today he wore ripped jeans and a black button-down shirt that didn’t look right with the jeans. The mismatch should’ve made him appear endearing. It didn’t. He looked lethal.
His boots were black and large, and he’d tied his dark blond—streaked with black—hair at the neck, revealing those scars down the right side. Those burn scars. Was that why his voice was so low and hoarse? He stood at least a foot taller than she, and he had a hundred plus pounds on her—all muscle. If he wanted to block the door, she’d need the help of the other two men to get out.
Neither had moved again.
She drew on her professor voice. “Somebody explain. Right now.”
“I’m, ah, your security detail,” Ivar said. “The gun wasn’t to threaten you, but I thought you were in danger at the cemetery, and I was trying to convince you to drive out of there quickly.” He shook his head. “I was wrong.”
Security detail? Where was logic?
Ivar nodded toward Ronan, whose jaw tightened like one long muscle currently being strained.
“Right,” Ronan muttered. Then he cut Kane a look. “All right. We have the grant award narrowed down to six of you already, and one has been murdered, while the other is missing.”
“Excuse me?” Promise’s stomach jumped, and not in a good way. Nerves pinged along her scalp in a flood she identified as adrenaline. Her body received the fight-or-flight message, and she wanted to flee. But the massive man remained at his post at the door. “You’re telling me that you assigned me a security detail, based on a grant I have not as yet received, and that detail was this lunatic with a gun?”
Laughter boomed down the hallway, and she jumped. It sounded like that Benjamin Reese man she’d just met. What was going on with these overgrown males? They were all so big and hard cut.
Ivar’s eyes twinkled, for the first time losing that overly intense expression. “Yes. The grant is for a hundred million dollars, and it has put you in danger. We’re taking your safety to heart.”
The man appeared serious, but this was insane. “What about Mark? Nobody tried to kidnap him.”
Kane cleared his throat. “The math grant he’s working on is for far less money, and he’s not in danger, unlike you. The Viking wasn’t supposed to approach you.”
The Viking. Truth be told, the man did look like one. She could imagine him leading a raiding ship years ago. An odd tingle spread through her abdomen, and she frowned. What in the laws of physics was that? Her body was really on the blink. She’d need to make a doctor’s appointment as soon as she escaped from this place. “I do not need security, and I think it’s time I went on my way.”
Ivar straightened. “You have security until the grant is awarded and is safely transferred. Whether you like it or not.”
Ronan snapped his lips shut, and Kane groaned softly. More laughter bellowed down the hallway from that Benny.
Promise put her hands on her hips. This was not making any logical sense. Not that there was illogical sense. She shook her head. “This isn’t right.”
Ivar slipped his thumbs into his front jeans pockets in the worst “aw shucks” attempt imaginable. “Everyone is mad at me now.”
Her heart didn’t soften in the slightest. Not a bit. “You said I was in danger. How so?”
His chin dropped as he no doubt went for a harmless and apologetic appearance. Instead, he looked like a predator who’d just found dinner and was trying to blend into the flora. Unsuccessfully. “It was a false alarm,” he said, his voice rough sandpaper over wood. “Again. Sorry.”
Ronan’s fingers curled over the back of the chair he’d vacated.