Travis shook his head as he watched Jeff close the door behind him. “Fuck me.”

“No thanks. Logan would kill me.”

Travis closed his eyes against the incipient headache building behind his eyes. “Kir.”

“Sorry.” The blond man sank into the seat Jeff had so recently occupied, picking up the bowl of popcorn with a sigh. “Anyone want—”

“No. ”

Kir winced as all three of them shouted him down. “Okay, okay. I can see how you’d all be pizza’d out. You don’t have to shout, though.” He put the bowl down, fiddling with it absently. “He’s right.”

Travis found himself staring at Jeff’s closed door. “Yeah. He is. And don’t make the mistake of thinking that was an idle threat, either. If Jeff decides to go after Grimm it’ll get ugly fast.”

“He can’t handle what Grimm will do to him.” Jordan started pacing, a frown on that pretty face of hers. She brushed her hair behind her ear, missing the way both her men’s eyes latched onto her movements. It was obvious even to a blind man that Logan and Kir were hyper-aware of her every move.

Logan sat at Kir’s feet, Kir’s hand drifting into his lover’s hair, playing with it in a way that let Travis know this was a common thing for them.

Logan rested his head against Kir’s knee, his eyes closing wearily. “We have to figure out a way to keep them safe. Grimm isn’t going to stop here. He’s going to want Gungnir back, and he won’t hesitate to harm either Jeff or Jamie to get it.”

“Ixnay on the Ungnir-Gay.” Jordan flapped her hands toward Jeff’s closed door.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Right. Imm-Gray is going to want the glowy toothpick back ASAP. Any ideas, people? Because I’m damn tired of fighting that ass wipe.”

Travis almost joined Jordan in her pacing. “I doubt he knows I’ve already handed it over to Kir. He’ll expect me to hang onto it a little tighter this time.”

“This time?”

The headache throbbed behind his eyes. “Yeah. This time.” He kept his expression closed, daring Jordan to question him further.

So, of course, she did. “Do tell.” She sat on the floor next to Logan, curling her feet under her and crossing her arms over her chest.

Travis grimaced. “What happened to Ix-nay?”

She sniffed. “Tyr, aka Tiwaz, aka Tio, aka Tyz. The meaning of the name is god. Hence, one of the names of Odin, Hangatyr, or God of the Hanged. How pleasant is that?” She made a face as Logan snorted and Kir hung his head between his hands. “You even have a day named after you. Anyway, some of the myths say you’re Odin’s son, and if that’s true, then ew, if you’re into my sister. Other myths claim you’re one of Odin’s contemporaries. The third myth says you’re older. So, which one is it?”

He stared down at her. “When did you have time for that? You’ve been in the hospital with Jamie every stinking waking moment.” He knew. He’d been there too, guarding her with his life. If Grimm had made one teeny tiny move toward the woman sleeping in the other room Travis would have killed him.

Or at least tried to. They still hadn’t figured out how he’d survived Val’s numerous fatal wounds.

She rolled her eyes. “Remember when Tweedledee and Tweedledum wouldn’t let me out of the condo so all I could do was stuff on the Internet?”

“Because, y’know, it wasn’t like you’d been shot or anything.”

She ignored Kir’s mumble and Logan’s glare. “That’s when I looked all that up. Now please, answer the question.”

“I’m not on trial here.” The headache was full bore now. He’d need to take something soon, then go lie down next to Jamie.

“No, Trav, you’re not. But every little bit you give us could help stop Grimm.” Her expression was pleading. “Please. For Jamie.”

“Dirty pool, Grey.”

“Tait-Saeter. Ow.” Logan rubbed his side where Jordan pinched him.

“That reminds me. You owe me a wedding. Goober.”

“Children, play nice.” Kir smiled wearily at the two. “Or I’ll break out the splintery stick.”

“We’d rather you broke out the other stick.” Logan waggled his tongue at Kir, causing Jordan to fall over with a groan.

“And on that note, I’m going to bed.” Travis turned and ran for Jamie’s bedroom, Jordan’s quiet, “coward” following him into the room.

He closed the door behind him and stared at the woman asleep on the bed. As quietly as possible he removed his clothing, all the way down to his boxers. He lifted her up with his right arm, pulling the comforter and sheets from underneath her before putting her down again. Once she was settled back down he went to the window and examined the protection runes Logan had cast. With a sigh he added his own, overlaying the fiery symbols, integrating his own magic with that of the Jotun’s. He wondered briefly how Logan would react when he saw it, but he was just too damn tired to care.

When he was finished he climbed wearily into bed and pulled the sheets over both of them. Spooning in as closely as he dared, he closed his eyes and willed the headache away. Her scent wrapped around him, soothing him, and before he knew it he’d nodded off.

Grimm stood in his old office, one hand resting on the twin raven statues, and stared at the empty case that had once held Gungnir, the Godspear. “Hugin, Munin, komme fram.”

The stone ravens stirred, pulling apart as feathers erupted from stone bodies. They shook themselves, their beady eyes fixed on his face.

“Finne Tyr.”

The ravens ghosted through the walls, their flight unhampered by the physical world around them. He ground his teeth, staring at the empty case that had once housed Gungnir, the symbol of Odin’s power and rulership of the Aesir and Vanir. Fuck. If only Travis hadn’t gone all stubborn on him and refused to sell Guardian Investigations, none of this would have happened. Gungnir would still be in his possession, Baldur and Loki would still be on the run and Tyr would still be firmly under his thumb. But Travis had inexplicably resisted him, and now it was going to take some serious strategy on Grimm’s part to put everything back to rights. Rina still didn’t understand why he’d been so insistent on acquiring Travis’s business. Quite frankly, he was tired of explaining it to her. She’d just have to figure it out on her own.

Keeping Tyr busy elsewhere and out of Grimm’s way had been a mistake. It had started during WWII, when Grimm had decided to help Hitler covertly. After all, the man had practically worshipped him. Sending Tyr to help the French Resistance had seemed like a stroke of genius at the time, and phones and air shipping of bottles of Tyr’s favorite apple brandy had made sure that Tyr stayed mostly under his thumb. He’d thought he’d sent in a spy. Instead, he’d sent in a god damn hero.

Who knew the pain in the ass would actually help the Allies win the fucking war?

He glowered at the empty case and deliberately turned his thoughts away from Tyr and toward his son, Vali, his grandchildren’s beloved Uncle Val.

Traitorous bastard. Thought he could kill me , did he? Fucking idiot. Frost coated his desk as he contemplated the many ways he planned on taking his revenge on Val. If Val thought his precious niece had suffered, he was in for a rude surprise.

Compared to what he would to do to Val he’d been downright compassionate toward Jamie.

He booted up his computer, using the password he’d set up for just such an eventuality to get into the company’s servers. He knew Frigg had already locked him out of the system, but she didn’t know, couldn’t know, about the back door log-in he’d installed.

Yup, there it was in black and white. Grimm and Sons was now run by that frigid bitch, Frederica Grimm, aka Frigg, and had been since the day after he’d taken off. He sat back with a sneer. Fucking cow.

He did a quick run-down of the employees, not surprised to see Fred’s pansy-assed sons Magnus and Morgan were no longer with the company. Rumor had it Tyr had taken them in as well. He wasn’t surprised. Tyr’s company had become something of a haven for the useless flotsam and jetsam that had flooded Grimm and Sons. Adam Grey, Jordan’s father and the god known as Frey, remained, as did Frejya.