and read the face. His body didn’t move, and his expression didn’t change. He looked up, and his eyes had somehow darkened to a deeper blue. “Dr. Fissure was found an hour ago in eastern London, torn apart piece by piece. He’s been dead at least a week.”
Her mind jittered, and she swayed. Not Gary. Oh, God.
He grasped her arm. “The crime scene looks nearly identical to that of your friend Dr. Rashad.”
“We weren’t really friends,” Promise said. How did this make sense? She pushed her hair away from her face. “You’re telling me that somebody is butchering grant applicants? How? Why? To earn a grant?” That was insane.
Ivar glanced at Ronan and then back. “There was another killing in Sweden this morning. A Dr. Polantski was taken early and has already been found dead. The deaths were just connected this morning. The police think it’s a serial killer, and it looks like the only thing the victims have in common is that they’re the leading experts in the area of physics.”
That was an odd thing to have in common. She coughed, even as her mind quickly reviewed possibilities. Serial killers played by their own rules. She’d studied a couple while taking abnormal psych as an undergraduate. “Physics.”
“Yeah,” Ivar said softly. “And you’re one of the best, right?”
“So it isn’t because of the grant,” she said, tearing her gaze away from that impossible blue and looking at Ronan.
He shook his head. “Doubtful. Although the publicity surrounding the grant might’ve put you all on a killer’s radar, and we take responsibility for that.”
A serial killer didn’t need a reason. “This doesn’t add up for me,” she murmured.
Ivar rubbed his damaged neck. “I understand that, but at the very least, you know you’re in danger, right?”
Three colleagues, all working in similar fields to hers? Yes. She understood the danger. And the men with her right now, they couldn’t have gone to Sweden and back in time to meet with her this morning. So at the very least, none of them was the killer. Of Dr. Polantski, anyway. “I—I understand I’m in danger,” she acknowledged. “But I am not your responsibility.”
Ivar frowned, his eyebrows slashing in the middle.
She breathed deep, her mind banishing any emotion. She’d done her research—these men had decades of ownership in the company. They were authentic, and now she understood why she hadn’t been able to find all the details. “However, I’m willing to hire you until they catch this killer.” While she might be confused at the moment, she was not stupid. Ivar Kjeidsen had more training than anybody else she’d find in this small college town, and she’d be a moron to refuse his help while a serial killer was targeting people like her. “Though I expect to see your personnel file before we reach an agreement.”
His shoulders relaxed, and his smile was slow. Sexy. “I bet we can drum one of those up for you.”
Chapter Eight
Ivar scouted the area outside the gray cottage, tuning in his senses for any threat. He chewed on a couple of cashews and swallowed the salt. The private road of established single-family homes was silent except for the crackle of falling red and gold leaves from thriving trees, while the ocean rolled on the other side. He followed Promise to the whitewashed front door and took the key from her. “I enter first. Every building, every time,” he said. “Understand?”
“Yes.” The woman had been shaky since discovering that two more of her colleagues had been brutally murdered, and trusting him to protect her had to feel odd after the way they’d met. But he appreciated her ability to follow logic and not emotion in the situation.
He couldn’t relate to emotion any longer.
He released the lock and walked inside, closing his eyes to listen. Nothing. And no energy signatures he couldn’t identify. But he searched the living room, one bedroom, and bathroom before taking in the clean kitchen and nook. Nothing except the slight scent of purple heather—her scent.
She followed him inside and shut the door to lock it.
He whistled and moved toward the sliding glass door beyond the breakfast nook. A small but private yard led to cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. In late September, the sea rolled gray and white, promising a chilly winter to come. It reminded him of his early days, on the sea, with his family. There had been a Realm headquarters somewhere in the cliffs of Oregon, and he made a mental note to find out