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Out of sight, the door clicked. Inga’s welcome was effusive.
Griff pushed up from his chair. Going after Raptor in any shape or form took balls. He wanted to see the man who had Raptor in his sights.
Inga hurried through, tipped her head at Leo. “Joe Smith, sir.” She stepped aside.
Griff stopped breathing. The journalist behind Inga was a woman. Ms. Prickly Pants.
Her lush mouth popped open.
What the fuck?
Jo, not Joe, dumb-ass.
She looked at him, and the intensity of her gaze made his heart jolt inexplicably.
He couldn’t suppress a grin. He’d been so slow. And also a sexist prick for assuming the person going after Raptor was a man.
Because Jo Smith? She was all woman.
5
Oh, my God.
It’s him.
The freaking lumberjack.
He’d lost the checked flannel shirt since she last saw him and now a black T-shirt molded to the ridges of his muscular body. One eyebrow cranked over slate-gray eyes that locked with hers and held her captive.
“Ms. Smith. Welcome. I’m Leo Bychkov.”
Jo tore her eyes off the lumberjack, attempting to pull her scattered thoughts back into some semblance of clarity, and turned to the handsome man who’d stepped forward, holding out his hand.
Leo Bychkov. Former special forces bad-ass and owner of Guardsmen Security.
His razor-sharp suit, the starched oxford blue of his shirt, was immaculate, but the breadth of his shoulders and the way he held himself suggested physicality and danger were in his DNA. That wasn’t surprising. She’d read up Guardsmen Security. Not only did they have extensive experience of dealing with Raptor Industries, the individual team members had the most bad ass résumés she’d read.
She shook Leo’s hand. His voice was measured. Calming. The scar that touched one of his eyes only reinforced he was a man who could sort out your problems. Already she understood why his business had such a stellar reputation.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I’m so sorry I’m late. I had a flat tire. And, please, just Jo is fine.”
She schooled her face into a smile, trying to push the stress of the flat tire and her disheveled appearance to the back of her mind as the man on the far side of the room came over to greet her. The family resemblance was unmistakable.
He extended his hand. “Zak Bychkov. Hi.” Slightly taller and leaner than his brother, Zak’s eyes crinkled with friendly warmth. He pivoted to the gorgeous woman next to him, and Jo tried not to think of her own wind-mussed hair. “This is my fiancée, Alina Anderson.”
Jo knew the name. Alina Anderson was the marine biologist who discovered the resting place of the Architect.
Hot emotion welled in Jo’s throat. This woman had found her brother’s final resting place, ensuring Raptor couldn’t brush their blatant disregard for life under the carpet.
“Hi.” Alina clasped Jo’s fingers between hers. “Lovely to meet you. You’re in the best hands here.” She shot an affectionate glance at Leo and Zak. “No matter what your problem is, these guys will have your back.”
Jo swallowed against the ache in her throat. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Abe Knight, one of our specialist operatives.” Leo gestured to a dark-skinned man with a thousand-megawatt smile.
Abe shot her a salute from the other side of the coffee table, his face radiating effortless charm, but his arms looked like they could crush bricks to dust. “Pleasure.”
That only left the lumberjack.
