19. Nineteen Freya
Nineteen: Freya
I was smug, to say the least. The look on Kaleb's face when he’d caught sight of me in Hannah's short shorts was priceless. She was insistent that I also pretended to be going on a date with my old friend Ty, and as Hannah had expected, Kaleb hadn’t been overly thrilled by the idea.
Two could play at his little flirtatious game.
And so far, it looked like I was winning.
I tapped my pencil against my lips as I stared down at my artwork, finally happy with a piece I had drawn. Dragons twirled around each other in some kind of strange amorous mating dance, their sparkling scales scraping against one another as they roared. It was cliché and nowhere near good enough to use as a submission for my assessment, but I was getting somewhere.
I heard mumbling downstairs—the person sounding panicked—and I dropped my pad on my bed and gazed over the landing railing. Jackie was in the living room, muttering away on her phone. Her eyebrows were collapsing in on each other as she paced from one side of the room to the other.
Padding down the stairs, I cocked my head at her. “Jackie, are you alright?”
“Freya, you scared me.” She chuckled after releasing a small yelp, clutching at her chest. “It's awards night at work, and Kaleb said he would come with me. We need to leave soon, and he's still not back. I've left two messages, but I'll have to go alone if he doesn't show up.” I sensed the disappointment in her voice, and it caused my heart to pang.
“I'm not doing anything right now,” I said, shrugging and slipping on my shoes and coat. “I'll find him for you. I have a feeling I know where he'll be.”
Hopping into my car, noticing again how much smoother it ran, I headed off toward the shooting range. The likelihood of Kaleb being there was high.
I parked outside the shifty-looking building, shivering as I stepped out of the car, the wind gusting through me. The area was pretty bare, so there was nothing to shield me from the blast.
I rushed in, the young red-haired receptionist peering in my direction briefly before dropping her gaze. She was leaning back in her chair, chewing on her gum loudly, my presence having not bothered her one bit.
How did this place even stay open if they charged no one to shoot? Did they really make all their money from selling alcohol at the bar? It didn’t seem likely.
The usual sound of guns blasting reached my ears, and I hurried down the narrow corridor to push open the door to the main hall. It was busy today, and I gulped, taking in the sheer amount of beefed-up men sporting tattoos and bald heads.
Beer coated the floor, making it sticky, and men laughed in every corner as they talked over each other, desperate to be the centre of attention and assert their dominance.
I wandered around the room, noticing a few older men turn and tap their friends to draw their attention to me. I didn't belong here, and I looked like a deer in the headlights as I tried my best to weave in and out of people without being spotted.
It didn't surprise me I was being stared at, though. I was dressed in an old T-shirt two sizes too small without a bra—having not even thought about it before I left the house.
Yanking my coat over my chest to cover myself, I stopped in my tracks when a bearded man stepped out in front of me, clutching onto a large handgun. He waved it around, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“What's a pretty lady like you doing here?” he said, his words merging to form one almost incoherent sentence. Obviously drunk. “We don't get too many of those. The women here usually look like men themselves.”
All his friends laughed from behind him, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah, alright. Excuse me, I'm looking for someone.” I attempted to move past him, but he chuckled, blocking my path.
“Woah, woah, hold up. I just want to talk. There's no need to be rude.”
I narrowed my eyes into slits. “Actually, there is because you're in my way.”
The bearded man cursed, his eyes turning dark. “Well, you're—“
“Watch your mouth, Brush. She's Kaleb's girl.”
Will.
I wasn't, but I wasn't about to correct him on that. The bearded man—named Brush—took a few steps back to his group of friends, and Will moved closer to me, smiling. I instinctively backed up.
“Speaking of Kaleb. Have you seen him?” I questioned, and Will nodded towards the exit.
“You just missed him. He left in a rush, saying he was late for something.” He gestured for me to follow him, and I did, but only because I was heading towards the exit myself. “I assumed he was heading somewhere to meet you.”
I shook my head, clearing my throat awkwardly. There was something about Will that put me on edge me. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was almost six foot four—just shy of Kaleb's stature. His voice was gravelly, and his eyes were icy. They drew you in and held you captive, but not in a good way. It froze people in fear, and he knew it. He thrived off it.
“Kaleb tells me he and Brent run their own distillery down where they live,” Will suddenly said once he noticed I was moving closer and closer to the exit. “As well as a few other businesses. They never go into great detail, though.”
I arched my brow. Kaleb and Brent ran a distillery? That was the first I’d ever heard of it, but I honed in on how Will leaned against the wall, a smirk playing at his lips. He was phishing for information. The nosy fuck.
Kaleb had instructed me not to say anything about his and Brent’s line of work before I entered the building for the first time, and I gathered that telling the owner of a shady shooting range that you were a cop wasn't the best idea. It did make me wonder why Kaleb and Brent shot here, anyway. As people involved in law enforcement, why would they want to spend their time at a place like this?
“I haven't spoken to Kaleb about his occupation much.”
Will raised his eyebrows, pushing himself off the wall and taking another puff of his barely lit cigarette. “Much? Meaning you have spoken about it at least somewhat?”
My heart thumped in my chest, causing me to shift uncomfortably.
I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to confirm the distillery in case he was bluffing and trying to catch me out. Was he suspicious of what Kaleb and Brent were? They definitely wouldn't be welcome if so.
Remaining casual, I smiled at Will, attempting to appear innocent. “I mean, yeah, it's come up here and there, but I've never asked much about it.”
“Why's that? Is it because he's so secretive? Because that's what I've found. He's vague. About everything. Vague usually screams guilty.”
The heat was ramping up, and I backed up against the wall, glancing sideways towards the exit. Running was an option, but that would make Kaleb and Brent look extremely fishy. I had to play this off. “Guilty?” I chuckled. “He's a private guy. It's hard to get him to open up.”
Taking a step back, Will laughed, holding his hands up defensively. “You look like you’re worried I'm about to tie you up and throw you into my back office. I was just simply asking you some questions, Freya. No harm done.”
I hated the way he used my name. It felt slimy.
“I know,” I said, faking my confidence, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of my neck. “I do need to go, though.”
Will watched me with curious eyes as I turned to leave but cleared his throat close from behind me. I stilled. “I am curious about you, Freya.” His voice was almost demanding. “What do you do?”
I rolled my eyes before I turned to him again. “I'm an aspiring author.” There was no way I was going to give this man any information about myself.
“And what about your parents? You mentioned your last name was Henderson, correct?”
I cursed at myself for having told him my full name, but it was during our first meeting, and I hadn't expected to see him again. “Why?”
“No reason. Just trying to get to know Kaleb's girl a little better.”
I nodded. “My mom is expecting me home, so I need to go.”
Will smiled, holding the door open for me as I tried my best not to scurry out. “See you soon, Freya.”
I took deep breaths as I wiped down my clothes inside my car, trying to rid myself of the scent of beer and cigarettes. It was all that surrounded me, though, and I shook off my coat, launching it into the backseat. I drove home as quickly as possible, pulling up outside Kaleb's house and laying my head on the steering wheel with a harsh thud .
Jumping out of my skin at the sound of someone knocking on my car window, I stared up wide-eyed at Kaleb, his own filled with worry. Sighing, I pushed open my door.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes raking up and down my body quickly as he searched for a reason as to why I looked so on edge. “My mom said you went out looking for me.”
“Yeah, she was freaking out about her awards night, so I went to the shooting range and—“
“What?” he interrupted me, his body rigid and his tone frosty. “Freya, please tell me you didn't go inside.”
The tension was so cold it could freeze water. It was as if the Ice Age had just reoccurred, trapping me in a giant block of ice and rendering me motionless.
“Only for a few minutes.”
Kaleb clamped his eyes shut and tilted his head back, cursing up at the clouds. “Freya. I told you it was too dangerous. You shouldn't be in there alone.”
I shrugged. “You never actually said it was too dangerous—just not to talk to Will again.”
“And did you?”
“He told me you’d just left.”
His gaze held nothing but raw emotion. Concern. Dread. Panic. He shut my car door for me, and we settled on the couch inside, his jaw clenching.
“Okay, tell me what Will said to you,” he demanded, pulling up a dining chair, lifting his leg over it, and sitting on it backwards. He crossed his arms over it as he watched me, but I couldn't focus on anything other than his muscular thighs and veiny forearms. “Freya, come on, sweetheart. You can ogle me later. What did Will say to you?”
Sweetheart.
My face reddened. “Um, he was asking about you. Questioning what you and Brent did for work, and wanted to see if I knew anything about the distillery you said you owned.”
Kaleb huffed, dropping his head down onto his arms, groaning. “Fuck, okay. Anything else?”
“Um, he was asking me about my parents. He said he wanted to get to know me.”
He snapped his head up, biting his bottom lip harshly, gazing off into the distance, his tongue grating across his teeth. A thunderstorm brewed in his eyes, and I swear I felt the jolt of a lightning bolt driving through me as I glanced into them.
“Will will retaliate if he knows what Brent and I are.” Kaleb dug his nails into his tattooed forearms. I couldn't help but follow his movements, and I felt a sudden urge to make my way over to him and comfort him, but now wasn't the time to test our boundaries.
“What's the worst he can do, though?” I asked. “Tell you guys to leave and not come back? You can find another shooting spot.”
Kaleb narrowed his eyes at me, sighing. “I don't think you understand this guy, Freya.”
“What do you mean? Besides the obvious.”
He looked to be debating with himself on whether to talk. “I’m meeting my mom at her awards evening, so I need to go.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why are you getting so stressed about Will? You said that you and Brent have been shooting there for years. What's suddenly made him suspicious of you two?” I dragged my bottom lip into my mouth, and just as Kaleb opened his own to speak again, the doorbell rang.
“Do you ever hang out at your own place?” he grumbled as he flung the door open to reveal Brent, and he plopped himself down on the couch next to me, swinging his arm over the back of it and shooting me a wink.
“I just came back from the shooting range,” I told Brent, causing Kaleb to curse and slump against the wall. “I bumped into Will, and he was rather intrigued to hear about this distillery you guys own.” I waited for Brent to elaborate.
“Um, yeah, obviously we don't.” He chuckled, shrugging, releasing a stressed sigh a few seconds later.
“She knows that, Brent,” Kaleb snapped. “Will is getting suspicious.”
I huffed, pushing myself onto my feet and smiling falsely. “Well, you guys must love this shooting range a hell of a lot judging by the way you're so worried about Will finding out what you both really do for work, but since you're talking so cryptically and I have no idea what’s going on, I'm going to excuse myself and work on my project upstairs.”
Brent watched me with curious eyes as I began to walk away, and he groaned. “Kaleb, man, why don't we just tell her? Will knows who she is now, and it’s in her best interest.”
“Yeah, and that’s your fault,” Kaleb muttered, his eyes blazing, beckoning me with his head and sighing as I sat back down. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right, so you’re aware that Brent and I took Christmas break early, and that's why we're back in town?”
“That's what you said when you first arrived.”
Brent chuckled. “Well, that's not true. We're still working.”
“What do you mean?”
Kaleb was so tense he resembled a stone statue rather than a living human being, and I was concerned that all the stress was going to cause him to crumble into a pile of dust on the floor.
“Freya, what we are about to tell you has to remain confidential. It's crucial. The reason I'm telling you this is for your own safety, but this whole thing could be fucked if anyone finds out.” I’d never heard Kaleb so serious.
My stomach lurched. “Okay.”
He clicked his knuckles. “Our organisation has been building a case against Will for years. Since Brent and I were already from the area, we were assigned to the case. We come back throughout our breaks to continue working on it, but evidence has always been scarce. We received some intel that he's ramping up the intensity of his crimes, so we came to watch him.”
So that was why they were always at the shooting range? They were spying on Will.
“He's involved in a big illegal drug ring, and he's the brains behind the operation,” Brent chimed in. “We’re hoping to have him arrested by the end of the year.”
I gulped. I’d been inside the shooting range with a criminal, and anger bubbled up inside me that I'd been put at risk. “You took me there.”
Kaleb glared at Brent. “That was this idiot's fault.”
Brent shrugged. “We have to look like normal guys. Normal guys hang out with hot women. Having you join us was good for us, and we knew you weren't going to be in harm's way. Will does run it as a shooting range with a bar to cover up the money he makes from his crimes, and he wouldn't act out with other people there. He does it all under the radar. Most of the people who shoot there don't know what's really going on.”
“It was still too dangerous for her,” Kaleb complained. “I could call the chief and get you fired for it.”
Brent smirked at his friend. “But you won’t.”
“When you say Will is ramping up the intensity of his crimes, what do you mean?” I was deathly curious.
Brent and Kaleb gazed at each other, and Kaleb sighed. “We really can't go into—“
“We found out he's linked to some murders, but the evidence isn't strong enough yet,” Brent responded casually.
“You’re putting her at risk by telling her every detail Brent.”
“Ignorance is putting her at risk. Will's been questioning her. Besides, look at her—as if she's going to tell anyone. She doesn't have that many friends.” Brent turned to me, shooting me another wink. “No offence, darling.”
I shook my head. “How did you find out he—“
Kaleb’s phone blasted, and he huffed as he glanced down at his screen. “I’m late. Brent, keep your mouth shut until I get back.” His eyes immediately softened as they settled on me, and he swallowed before ducking out of the house.
“Well, now that it's just you and me, baby girl,” teased Brent as he pretended to lean in for a kiss, and I grabbed the cushion from beside me and smacked him in the face with it, causing him to chuckle.
“I won't say anything to anyone about what you guys told me,” I promised him.
Brent hummed, nodding. “Nah, I trust you. Kaleb is paranoid. He wanted to keep you out of it.”
I was desperate to ask more but didn't want to get Brent in trouble with Kaleb, so I opted to change the subject. “So, who's Kaylee?” I wiggled my eyebrows.
“I met her at that party we went to, where you and Kaleb ditched me.” He fake glared at me. “She's really great. I actually like her a lot.”
I nudged him. "You mean you like her?"
“I mean, yeah, she's great, but it doesn't matter much. Nothing will come of it.”
“Why do you say that?”
Brent shrugged at me like it was obvious, his attention on the TV program I had switched on. “My line of work isn't overly compatible with having a relationship. The others who do what Kaleb and I do are pretty much all single. It's the people who are stationed in places permanently that find it easier to settle down. After this case is closed, we’ll be moved to a different base since we’re currently stationed at the nearest one to here. It could be halfway across the country or even abroad.”
My stomach twisted painfully.
Kaleb. In an entirely different country. That was going to be a kick in the teeth.
“I can understand why people don't fancy having to move just to follow their significant other around, especially since they don't even know if they’ll be coming back from work every night. Some of the stuff we do is dangerous, and dying isn't unheard of.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Brent replied, chomping on a chocolate bar he'd just pulled from his pocket, his mouth full. “A few months ago, we were doing a raid and one of our guys got shot in the leg. There was blood everywhere, and he couldn't get to cover. We had to drag him behind a storage unit, but he didn’t make it.” He spoke so casually about the subject, his voice holding little emotion, and it was evident that he’d become desensitised to the gruesome side of his line of work.
Gulping, I began abusing my cuticles. Just the thought of going to work and not knowing if you were going to make it home alive was terrifying. Was that how Kaleb felt every time he left the house?
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see Hannah had sent me a few messages about our project. I replied quickly, my finger subconsciously lingering on my father's number a few messages down. Frowning, I clicked on his name, grinding my teeth as I allowed the call to go through, moving my way into the kitchen away from an unbothered Brent, who was gawking at the TV.
Hearing about how life was never guaranteed had hit a nerve—because the thought that there was a chance that I’d never see my dad again was pulled to the forefront of my mind.
I was going to give it one more shot.
My phone made a strange beeping sound, and I listened to the automated woman's voice on the other end.
This number is no longer in service. Please contact your provider if this issue is believed to be an error.
Staring at my phone in shock, I shook my head, my mouth becoming dry and my heart banging against my chest as if it were eager to escape.
What the fuck? My father had changed his number.