Page 11 of Grim’s Angel

McKenna’s hand remains over mine.

She does not ask if I am all right. The lie would insult both of us.

“Is Grim the only name I get?” she asks.

“For now.”

“That sounds suspicious.”

“Good instinct.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

Her laugh escapes before she can stop it. The sound is warm, soft, and completely wrong for the life I built.

I want to hear it again.

Women leave my bed before morning, and I prefer it that way. Wanting anything from one after she walks out has never been part of the arrangement.

McKenna has been in my town less than an hour, and I already want another laugh.

That should concern me more than the erection trapped behind my zipper.

I reach for my phone and call Striker.

My enforcer answers on the first ring. “Package secure?”

“Her name is McKenna. Use it.”

She becomes still between my boots.

Striker hears the warning in my voice. “Understood. What happened?”

“Vegas is off. The transport team put hands on her after she refused to go.”

“Client paperwork says she agreed to the transport.”

“She withdrew that agreement. The client also neglected to mention the paperwork was attached to a marriage contract.”

A pause follows.

“The fuck?”

“Find the sedan. Pull every camera between the station and the highway, then put Lock on the original request. I want the payment source, the hotel reservation, the broker, and every name attached to the contract.”

“I’ll get the brothers moving. You hit?”

“Minor graze.”

McKenna’s eyebrows rise.

“She’s looking at me like she disagrees,” I add.

“Who managed to shoot you?”

“McKenna.”

Silence holds for a single beat before Striker starts laughing.