Secrets of Mine (Of Mine #2)

1. Freya

1

FREYA

I stare at the sleek white jet in front of me. “You know, if you’d told me you had a private plane, I might not have kept running away.”

Jude snorts but River just glowers at me, his face all serious and official.

I hold up my hands. “Joking.”

Jude slides my rucksack off my shoulder and follows Oz and Eli up the steps to the aircraft, leaving me to fend for myself with Mr. All-Business-No-Play.

Now no one’s watching, River rakes his eyes over me. I’d forgone the FBI approved black slacks and stuck with my cargo pants and leather jacket. My clothing may as well be lingerie though for the way River’s gaze caresses my body.

“Think of it as a warning,” he says, closing in on me until I have to crane my neck to look at him. “If you ever run again, I’ve got the entire FBI at my disposal, and I will chase you to the ends of the earth.”

I place my palm on his shirt, over his heart, and rub my thumb back and forth until his jaw loses its tension. “I’m not going to run again. I promise.”

River buries his hand in my hair and pulls me in for a demanding kiss. “Damn right you’re not,” he grumbles when we come apart.

“No more secrets, no more running. We do this together.” I’m no longer a criminal asset, I’m a fully-fledged FBI profiler, and what better declaration of love than teaming up to catch a serial killer who also happens to be my father? Talk about meeting the parents…

I haven’t told River that I love him yet. I haven’t told any of them but I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening here—and I’m only slightly terrified.

I’ve gone from having a grand total of one healthy relationship in my entire life to dating four guys at once. It’s…a lot and if I think about it too much, breathing becomes challenging. Before I can start panicking, River takes my hand and leads me up the steps to the plane.

It's like I took a detour and walked into the life of a billionaire. The plane is open plan with four seating areas and an elegant finish. Instead of admiring the cream leather seats though, my gaze is stuck on the sophisticated, powerful woman sitting at one of the shiny wooden tables.

Farrah Syed, Unit Chief of the SCU, is the sort of woman who commands the room—or plane— just by being in it. Next to her, Zach, her PA taps away at his phone but he scowls when he sees me standing there. Not everyone is happy I’m now an agent and I’m pretty sure Zach would rather see me behind bars.

“What are they doing here?” I mutter under my breath to River.

“Carpooling.” Chief Syed’s voice carries through the plane. “Is that alright with you Agent Danvers?”

I blush, feeling like I just got called into the principal’s office. You know, if the principal had the power to revoke her immunity and send me to prison. “Of course. Sorry Chief.”

Amusement sparkles in River’s gaze but he holds back his smile. He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Go get settled. I’ll be back in a little while.”

River walks down the aisle and he and Farrah disappear behind the curtain at the back of the plane.

Oz is already setting up his laptop on the table nearest the front and Eli is kicked back across the longer row of seats running along the right side of the plane. He picks his Stetson up off his face and winks at me before replacing the hat, presumably to go back to his nap because I’m discovering Eli, when not full of hatred for me, is pretty much just a cat. He’s flirty and playful and he thinks he has nine lives.

River calls him reckless, but I get it. Sometimes the only way to dull the pain is to chase the adrenaline high.

I don’t want to get in Oz’s way, but Zach is still staring at me, so I sit down at the table on the opposite side of the plane, across from the one Oz has chosen.

Jude ducks around the curtains at the front, a couple of mini-Coke cans in his hands. He sits down opposite me and hands me one of the cans.

“Thanks,” I say. The can hisses as I open it.

“No problem. You want to join the mile high club?”

I splutter, choking on the sip of coke I just took. “Seriously?” I ask, wiping my face.

Jude grins. “It would be fun.”

I glare at him. “It would be unprofessional.”

He groans and slumps dramatically across the seats. “It’s official, you’ve been spending too much time with River. I’m kidnapping you for the whole flight.”

“So, you’ve got, what, five hours to corrupt me?” We’re heading from Quantico to Danville, California.

Jude smirks. “Closer to six, but if you come sit over here, I can have you squirming in minutes.”

I shove his shin under the table and smile at him from behind my Coke can. “Stop it.”

Jude laughs but I shift in my seat, my skin tingling like I’m being watched.

I look over at Zach, but his face is buried in his phone. He’s still scowling though.

Jude follows my gaze. “What’s his problem?”

I shrug. “I think he’s in the ‘Maxwell’s daughter should be in jail’ camp.” With his pinstripe shirt and rectangular glasses, he fits the rule book loving type to a tee.

“Yeah, well, the idiot doesn’t get a say, does he?”

“Jude.” I kick his shin again because Farrah’s life would probably be a mess without Zach. Although I’m not convinced that woman couldn’t run the country if she wanted.

Jude just gives me a flat look. “He’s anal Freya, even River agrees.”

I snort and cover it with another sip of Coke.

Across from us, Oz taps away at his computer. My smile falls. “We should be working.”

After my sister kidnapped Oz to get to me, I almost ended up back in my father’s clutches. It’s only thanks to the guys that I’m still here. Despite my sister helping us in the end though, my father, the infamous Cross-Cut Killer, escaped.

He disappeared and went quiet for almost a month after that and part of me hoped he’d go dormant again. I very rarely get what I hope for though.

Earlier today, River got the call to say he’d killed once more. It would appear my father has reverted back to his old victim type. Not only has he killed another young mother, he’s killed her in Oz’s hometown.

We got so close to catching him last time. I hate that our failure means another woman is dead. Another family broken.

I’ve spent every minute of my free time since I faked my death to escape my father trying to catch him. In hindsight, working by myself was a futile endeavor, I was never going to find him on my own. I really thought though, that when I teamed up with River and the guys, we could do it. And we got so close. We found the house he was hiding out in, saved the woman he’d taken. But he was gone. And now another woman is dead.

Jude takes my free hand and turns it over, linking our fingers together. “Until we see the crime scene and talk to the local police there’s only so much we can do.”

I don’t take my eyes off Oz. He’s fully focused on his screen, information whizzing past him at an indecipherable rate.

“Is he okay?” I ask, lowering my voice. It can’t be easy knowing Maxwell deliberately chose a victim in the same small town his parents live in.

When my dad was killing twins, it felt like I was somehow guilty, because the only reason they were dead was to send a message to me. Now, my own twin is in a secure psychiatric facility, and though I know that’s the best place for her, part of me feels guilty about that too. She spent half her life locked up and I have to keep reminding myself that a psych hospital is not the same as a fucking basement.

Jude gives my hand a squeeze. “We’ve got agents stationed outside his parents’ house but he’ll feel better once he’s there himself.”

“He’s not staying at the hotel with us?”

Jude’s smile is rueful. “I think his mom might disown him if he dared stay anywhere but home. She’d take us all in if she had the space.”

“You like her,” I say.

Jude nods. “So will you, and she’ll adore you. Oz is one of the lucky ones. His parents are golden.”

I realize then that there’s still so much I don’t know about the guys. “What about your parents?”

“They’re good.” Jude lets go of my hand and fiddles with his drink. “They live in L.A., so I don’t see them much.”

I drum my fingers against my Coke can. “Maybe we could stop by before we go back home.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Do you not get along?”

Jude’s smile is strained. “We get along fine. We’re both just busy is all.”

Hurt blooms in my chest and I stare out the window as we begin to taxi along the runway.

Jude just lied to me, and I know I have no right to be upset after all the secrets I kept from them, but I can’t help feeling rejected. Joining the team was supposed to be a fresh start but apparently ‘no more secrets’ is a one-way street.

I might have expected it from Eli or River but never from Jude. Jude is my goofy, sweet, cinnamon roll. He’s the one on a mission to introduce me to all the TV I missed out on, the one who brings me pastries every morning because he knows I hate cereal, the one who I thought told me everything. The weight of his distancing sits heavy on my chest.

River ducks back out from the behind the curtain at the end of the plane, Farrah following after him, and I use the opportunity to slip away to the restroom.

I’m still ruminating on my conversation with Jude when I come back out and find Farrah mixing a drink. It’s left me feeling defensive, which is my only excuse for what I do next.

“Why are you here?” I demand.

Farrah pauses for a moment then carries on as if I’d never spoken. She clinks a couple of ice cubes into her glass and turns to face me, leaning against the counter. Her nails are painted a deep maroon and the golden liquid in the glass is only a shade or two lighter than her flawless skin.

Her casual composure is nothing short of intimidating and I’m an idiot for approaching her like this, but I can’t help thinking she’s here because she doesn’t trust me. Why else would the Unit Chief shadow her top team? I’m the anomaly here.

“Why do you think?” Farrah asks.

I force a shrug. “I don’t know.”

Farrah’s lips tilt in amusement. “No. You think you do, but you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Relax, Freya. I have a conference in San Francisco and, despite what the media likes to portray, the FBI doesn’t have a fleet of private planes at its disposal.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. ‘Oh’.”

I wring my hands together, ready to make a flimsy excuse and flee the scene when Farrah speaks again.

“You know I was in an all-male team when I first started with the Serial Crimes Unit.”

I stop twisting my hands and look back down the plane through the gap in the curtain. Eli’s still splayed across the seats and River’s sat down opposite Jude, his jet-black hair swept neatly back as he does his paperwork. I can’t see Oz from this angle, but I can picture him clear as day, fingers tapping over his keyboard fast as lightning. A little furrow in the space on his forehead above his nose.

“It’s not so bad,” I say, looking back at her.

Farrah’s painted lips twitch into a knowing smile. “No, I don’t suppose it is for you.”

Jesus, can I have a single conversation with this woman without blushing?

“Still,” Farrah continues, “don’t let them overlook you. You’re not just on this team because of who your father is. You’re an extremely good detective, Freya.”

“Thank you.”

Farrah’s gaze traces over me. “You’re also a very good actor.”

My feet stick to the floor, my legs tensing. “I’m not–”

Farrah waves me off. “You don’t do it deliberately, but you hide your emotions. I’d be a fool to think you’re as unaffected by this case as you appear.”

I run my tongue along the inside of my teeth, doing exactly what Farrah’s accusing me of and pushing my emotions down. “I won’t let who my father is get in the way of me doing my job.”

Farrah purses her lips then puts down her drink. “Maybe you should.”

Her fingers uncurl from the tumbler, and she rests her hands against the counter on either side of her hips.

“What do you mean?”

Farrah nods over my shoulder towards the rest of the plane. “Those boys out there, they’re good. The best of the best. But you have something they don’t. You’re not just the daughter of a serial killer and you’re not just a profiler. You’re both.” She gives me a look laced with meaning. “So be both.”

I stand there for a moment, letting her words sink in. I’ve never considered being my father’s daughter a good thing. The idea feels raw and foreign. “I’m not like him.”

“I’m not saying you are.” Farrah’s voice is calm and collected against the storm brewing behind my ribs. “But you have an advantage, Freya, and it would be foolish not to leverage it. You know Maxwell better than anyone else and you’ll remember more than you think. Don’t fight that. Use it. And maybe together you’ll do what, alone, those boys never could. Catch him.”

Farrah picks up her glass again and swans past me. The curtain flutters closed behind her, leaving me standing there, in the plane’s galley, having a mini revelation. I knew being Maxwell’s daughter made me useful, it’s how I talked myself onto River’s team in the first place. But Farrah just took something I’ve never been anything but ashamed of and told me to use it. To embrace it.

Maybe being the daughter of a serial killer is part of what makes me a good detective. And maybe that’s okay.