Page 6 of Grim’s Angel

“McKenna Crane. Twenty-three. Hazel eyes. Brown coat.”

The information from his assignment, spoken as confirmation that he knows exactly why he came.

His silver gaze stays on mine.

“I know who I’m protecting.”

My breath lodges beneath my ribs.

The tall man wipes blood from his mouth. “Then deliver the asset yourself and collect the money.”

Asset.

My brother’s listing flashes through my mind again.

Grim turns his head.

“She’s not cargo.”

“Tell that to whoever bought her.”

Grim takes one step toward them.

“Get out of my town.”

Both men back toward the sedan. The taller one glances at his gun near the rear tire, but Grim shifts into his path.

The shorter man yanks open the driver’s door. His partner dives into the passenger seat, and the sedan shoots backward before the door fully closes. Tires spray water as it swings toward the road, leaving the gun in a puddle beside my fallen suitcase.

Grim turns toward me before the taillights disappear.

Fear floods back so quickly that my lungs seize.

He saved me, but he also knew my name before I spoke. Someone paid him to make certain I reached the man waiting in Las Vegas.

“Easy, Angel.”

“Stay away from me. And don’t call me that.”

He stops, but his gaze lowers to my injured wrist.

“You were hired to take me too,” I say. “A man bought a year of my life, I changed my mind, and I’m not getting on your bike so you can finish their job. I’m not marrying anyone.”

“No,” he says.

The certainty in that single word hits me harder than an argument.

“No, what?”

“You’re not getting on my bike unless you choose to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

His hand goes beneath his cut.

Terror slams through me.

Grim draws a handgun, turns it in his palm, and holds it toward me with the grip first.