47. Forty-seven Kaleb
Forty-seven: Kaleb
F reya had fallen asleep around twenty minutes before the film ended. She’d explained that she hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and after seeing how soundly she was doing so on my chest, I refused to move.
Her skin was dull, and her eyes had been lifeless, and for every hour she was unconscious, I knew her body and mind were healing. If staying here was going to keep her nightmares at bay, then that was what I was going to do. Every night. Until she no longer needed me. Regardless if I was desperate for a piss or not. I could hold it.
I didn’t have work today, but I’d organised something for Freya. Judging by how much she was struggling with the thought that she was a cold-hearted killer, it was much needed, and I hoped this would comfort her.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I whispered as she opened her eyes, appearing slightly confused before she dropped her head back down on my chest. “Time to get up. There’s someone I want you to meet today.”
Freya arched an eyebrow at me but obliged, showering while I waited in the car. The last thing we needed was for her mom to see me and bombard us with questions about what was going on between the two of us. We were going to explain it when the time was right.
“Where are we going?” Freya asked me, and I admired her with a smile. How could someone be so beautiful without even trying?
Her eyes flickered to the gun stuffed into my waistband, and her jaw tensed before she averted her gaze, causing me to move my jacket to cover it quickly. The last thing I wanted to do was trigger her, but my gun was something that I would never leave the house without. Her well-being was my priority. But so was her safety.
“To meet a friend of mine,” I said, starting the car and pulling onto the road.
The journey wasn’t long—filled with casual conversation—and I parked outside a small bungalow.
“I know you won’t,” I said, opening Freya’s door and helping her out, “but don’t stare.”
“Stare?” she muttered, and I smiled, knocking on the bungalow’s front door.
Pierce opened it with a smile, and Freya’s dark eyes widened briefly before she composed herself, plastering a smile onto her face.
“Kaleb,” Pierce cheered, holding his hand out for me to shake. “Nice to see you again. Please, both of you, come on in.”
We settled onto his leather couch, and Freya shuffled uncomfortably, fiddling with her fingers in her lap.
“My name’s Pierce. I used to work with Kaleb.” My old colleague grinned. “Let's not beat around the bush. You’re probably wondering why I look the way I do.”
Pierce’s face was disfigured. He’d undergone countless surgeries, but the doctors could only do so much for him. He was blind in one eye, and his skin was lumpy—indents scattered across his face from where the surgeons had attempted to stick the flesh back together.
Freya chewed on the inside of her cheek nervously.
“We were on a raid, and I got shot in the face.” Pierce chuckled. It was always something he found funny, and I gathered that humour was his way of coping with what the event.
“How did you survive?” Freya's mouth popped open.
He shrugged. “More people survive from being shot in the face than you think. The recovery wasn’t easy, and I’m out of work because of it, but I’m still here.”
Freya turned to me, realisation slapping her in the face. She knew what we were doing here. She was adamant that she’d killed Will by shooting him in the face, but Brent and I had also fired at him milliseconds later, and I’d aimed right for his chest.
There was a chance that Freya had killed him, but there was also the possibility that it was actually Brent or I who'd done it. She may not have been the one to deliver the fatal blow. The human body could survive miraculous things, and Pierce was a walking example. I refused to allow my girl to live with the guilt of a death that may not have been at her hands.
“I may have lost my good looks, but at least my wife still stuck by me.” Pierce released a loud cackle, taking a sip of his ginger tea.
He babbled on about the raid and his recovery for the next couple of hours, with Freya interjecting to ask a question now and then. I’d already heard the story a thousand times, so I sat in silence and let Freya gather the information she needed to ease her destructive mind.
When it was time to leave, it looked as if some kind of weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she took a deep breath as she buckled her seatbelt up.
“I know it might not mean a lot, but I wanted you to know that there is a possibility that you weren’t the one that killed Will,” I told her.
She smiled, her eyes becoming slightly teary. “Thank you. Not just for that, but for everything. I’ve never had anyone fight for me like this before.”
“When you’re the only thing grounding me to this Earth, you’re more than worth fighting for, Freya. I’m nothing if not with you.”
“Kaleb, that’s not true.”
I chuckled. “You are the only thing that keeps me sane, and when , not if , but when you fully accept me again, I’ll be here. Even if I have to wait a lifetime.”
I grunted as I pushed the barbell up for yet another rep, sweat trickling down my bare chest before I wracked it. Working out had been the only way to stop me from stalking down to the prison and gripping Mark’s neck until he was red in the face. The thought that what he’d got his own daughter involved in had affected her to where she couldn’t sleep or even think in peace irked me.
The sound of the doorbell to my apartment ringing pinched me from my thoughts, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my grey sweatpants before opening it. Surprise took over when I spotted a sheepish-looking Freya.
“You’re early,” I said.
“Sorry,” she muttered, stepping in, her gaze fixated on my shirtless form. “I thought the drive would take longer, and frankly, I was excited to see the place.”
I smiled. I wasn’t complaining about getting to spend more time with her.
My apartment was pretty nice—since I had the money to afford a swanky one. It was around a twenty-minute drive from my old house, which meant I could easily stop by and check on my mother when I needed to.
“Still not subtle with your staring, I see,” I teased, chuckling, causing Freya to narrow her eyes at me.
“Still not subtle with your arrogance, I see,” she remarked.
God, I wanted to kiss her. So badly. But this was on her terms. I understood there was a boundary, and I would not disrespect her by crossing it when she wasn’t ready.
Her mood had improved since our visit to Pierce. It didn’t kill off her inner demons in one big swoop by any means, but it helped, and that was all I wanted. Step by step. Little by little.
“You said Brent was on his way?” Freya looked unnerved by the thought. They’d been friends, and he’d also lied to her about her father. It wasn’t easy for him to do so, and I knew he felt guilty about it.
“And Kaylee,” I responded as I gave her a tour of the apartment. “Their flight landed about thirty minutes ago, so they should be here in the next hour.”
Freya nodded, distracted by my large king-sized bed, her eyes skating over the soft fabric covering it before she sighed. I knew what she was thinking, and it caused the flaming pit in my stomach to flourish.
I showered while she waited in my bedroom for me, cuddling under my blankets and tapping away on her phone, looking for inspiration for a new design for a client. She’d received her first project to complete alone and was panicking about not coming up with something good enough.
That thought was laughable, though. The talent she possessed was unmatched.
“Freya,” I called from the bathroom.
“Yeah?”
I ground my teeth together. “I left my towel out there. Can you please grab it for me, sweetheart?”
I heard her shuffle around for a few seconds before she opened the bathroom door, my towel clutched in her hands. I hadn’t asked her to come in, but her curiosity had clearly got the best of her, and her gaze travelled down the entire length of my body. Her lips parted, her pupils dilating.
“Baby, you’re going to need to stop looking at me like that,” I took a step toward her, “before something happens that I know you’re not ready for.”
I would never touch her—not if she didn’t want me to. But right now, it looked like lust was clouding her judgement, and I didn’t want her to allow something to happen, only for her to regret it later.
Freya sucked on the inside of her cheek, holding her head high. “How do you know what I’m ready for?”
I cocked my head. I could feel the blood rushing to my dick at her words, and she seemed to notice it, too, her eyes growing. “Your body language speaks volumes, my little artist, and you’re still tense around me.”
Her shoulders immediately dropped, indicating that she’d suddenly realised how strained they were—despite how turned on she was.
“I’m not going to touch you until you show me you’re completely and utterly comfortable.” Taking the towel from her and tying it around my waist, I moved towards the doorway, lingering behind her. “Until then, don’t forget that you’re still mine.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she tilted her head back, a gasp leaving her lips when she realised how close my own were to her skin.
“You were mine the second I laid eyes on you after you opened my front door for me, thinking I was a pizza delivery guy. You were mine after we first kissed at the shooting range. When I first buried my fingers inside of you and made you come for me, and when you became the first woman other than family that I’ve ever loved.”
Her eyes snapped open.
“And if you ever forget that, I’ll be right here to remind you—in whatever way you desire. But only when I know you're well and truly ready."
Work had been a killer. Madison was gaining more popularity due to her recent shows, and the paparazzi weren’t easing up. I had no problem threatening them, though. All I had to do was flash them my gun, and they took the hint and backed off.
I’d been thinking about Freya all day—my mind filled with memories of last night. My arms wrapped around her as she slept in my bed after a night in with Brent and Kaylee. I'd given them strict orders not to mention anything about the incident unless Freya did first, and although she looked a little nervous around Brent, she enjoyed the evening.
My hands tightened against my steering wheel. I was struggling to let go of my desire for revenge on the people who had actively harmed Freya. Will’s crime ring was large, and I was aware there was no way we’d caught everyone who had some kind of involvement. All of Will’s finances had been frozen and seized, though, and without his money, his crime ring had nothing.
My eyes narrowed as I gazed down the long, windy road that led to his shooting range, and in a split-second decision, I turned the wheel. The barren and dreary building came into view, a few more windows having been smashed since it’d been abandoned. There were more than likely a few squatters in there.
Lifting weights had become my vice—besides Freya—since a shooting range wasn’t so accessible, and although the searing pain that accumulated in my muscles felt good when I pushed my body to its limit, it wasn’t quite the same as the sensation of a handgun kicking back in your palm after firing it.
I made my way into the building, ignoring the permanently closed - do not enter sign. Shoving the heavy glass door open, I waltzed down the corridor and into the main area. Everything looked the same. The floor was still sticky from spilt beer. Bullets coated the floor. And dust was collecting on top of the tables and chairs.
Nearing a target, I began firing, relishing in the sensation of having a deadly weapon at my fingertips. Bodyguarding involved little gun work. I had it as a precaution, but so far, I hadn’t had to use it—which was a damn shame.
I smirked, satisfied when all four of my bullets hit the centre of the target, but when I heard a voice from behind me, I turned with my gun drawn.
“Excuse me, you need to leave the premises.”
My eyes widened.
Frederick.
“Kaleb?” he questioned, appearing shocked, but he quickly wiped the disturbance from his face.
I lowered my gun. “What are you doing here?”
“The building is due for demolition in a few days, and I was sent down to scope it out beforehand. I’m just here to take final photographs before getting a crew in to clear everything out in preparation for the building going down.”
Everything had been seized from the property—including weapons, drugs and files, but since everything was in Will’s name, there weren’t many people we could legally lead things back to. They’d also found Mark Henderson’s personal cell phone, and it dawned on me that it’d probably been Will who’d answered Freya’s call, where she heard nothing but breathing.
“You shouldn’t be in here, you know,” Frederick reminded me, and I chuckled.
“There wasn’t a no trespassing sign. Legally, you can’t do anything.”
That caused him to smile. “I’m going to get to work.”
I followed him, narrowing my eyes at his attire. He wasn’t in his work uniform. Instead, he was dressed in all black—including gloves and a beanie. Not a good look for an older fellow.
I gazed around the place in boredom as Frederick snapped a few photographs, humming to himself as he manoeuvred through the dirty building. He spluttered, wiping at his nose. “God, Will didn’t keep up to date with his cleaning, did he? I’ve never seen a place so unkept. I’m hoping this is my first and last time visiting. It’s fucking up my lungs.”
I cleared my throat, studying Frederick as he moved over to a door—a barely noticeable supply closet in the corner. It blended into the wall easily, and even I’d missed it until Frederick brought my attention to it.
There was a pin-pad to the left, and he nonchalantly entered the code and flung the door open, sighing as he snapped more photos of the space filled with unused cleaning supplies.
I froze. “How did you know the code?”
“What do you mean?”
“The code.” I nodded towards the pin-pad. “You knew it—off by heart.”
Frederick turned to me agitatedly, the creasing between his eyebrows deepening as he ground his teeth together.
“The workers who initially came in here to seize everything would have broken the door down to get inside, and judging by the fact it's still intact, and the supplies are still there, that indicates they missed it and didn’t go in. That would mean the initial code that Will set still stands.” I stepped closer to Frederick, my fingers twitching beside my gun.
“Kaleb, I don’t think—“
“Let's just say they did leave the door coded and the supplies still in there for whatever strange reason, wouldn’t you be reading it from a note? You punched in that number a little too casually for my liking—almost as if you’ve done it a hundred times before. It’s also worth mentioning that you’re not in uniform.” I glowered. “Is this really your first time here, Frederick?”
He glared at me, and his long fingers wrapped around the gun hanging from his waistband, causing me to do the same, aiming it at him.
“Drop your weapon, Kaleb. That’s an order!”
“Your order means nothing to me,” I spat.
“What are you going to do? Bring the evidence to your chief? I could relinquish both of you from your duties at the drop of a hat. Don’t be so foolish.” His voice was venomous, and it was with that threat that I knew Frederick wasn’t who he said he was.
“How long have you been working with Will?”
“You’re a good worker, Kaleb, but you know I’m going to have to kill you now, right?” His nostrils flared, and I smacked his arm away just as he pulled the trigger on his gun, the bullet soaring past my head. Shoving him against the wall, I pressed my forearm into his throat as he fought against me, gasping for breath.
He kicked out, and I grunted as his booted foot came into contact with my shin, giving him an opportunity to land a punch to my side, and he raised his firearm again. I ignored the pain, though, gripping him by the throat and slamming him to the ground with a loud thud.
“How’s Freya coping, Kaleb?” Frederick managed to gasp with a smirk, and I ripped his gun from his grip, causing his bloodshot eyes to widen, panic seeping into his fine lines. Flinging it to the ground behind me, I pressed the barrel of my own weapon into Frederick’s chest.
“You fucking traumatised her,” I seethed, malice dripping from my tongue.
My fucking boss. He’d been a part of this. He’d played a role in kidnapping my girl and fucking up her life.
“What are you going to do now, then, huh? Kill me?”
I cocked my head at him, angling my gun down and firing a bullet straight through his thigh. He released a deafening scream, the sound piercing my eardrums. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I crouched down beside him, gazing into his blazing eyes. “Let this be a message to anyone you’re working with, Frederick. You touch what’s mine, and you fucking burn.”
I blasted a bullet through his other thigh, and tears streamed down his face as blood spurted from his wounds. I’d ripped open vital arteries, and Frederick was going to bleed to death in roughly three minutes, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t make it the most painful three minutes of his life.
I wasn’t usually so sick and sadistic. Murder wasn’t something I cherished being part of—unless the person deserved it. Then, I relished in the idea of being the one to rip their soul from their body. When Freya was involved, anyone that even so much as thought about hurting her was going to face an agonising fate.
“Do you want money? I can give you money,” cried Frederick, and I clicked my tongue, sighing mockingly.
“You don’t have any money, Frederick.”
He shook his head. “I will. I’m working with a hacker, and he was going to get all of Will’s funds sent to me! The movement was going to be completely untraceable! Let me live; half of the money goes to you, I swear!”
I hummed. “So that’s why you wanted him to get caught.” It was the reason Will had switched up on Brent and me so quickly—Frederick had come to him and told him what we were when the time suited him. I tutted. “Unfortunately for you, Frederick, your money means nothing to me. I only want one thing from you.”
His eyes bulged as he pressed down on his wounds with as much force as he could muster, attempting to stop the relentless bleeding. “What is it? I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Good.” I nodded once, smiling down at him. “I want to hear your screams for mercy.”
Moving to the bar in the room's corner, I grabbed the liquor bottles and poured them over the floor, arching my eyebrows as Frederick tried his best to crawl his way to the exit. It made me chuckle. A fucking snail would get there faster.
I saved the last bottle of whisky for him, taking a quick swig of it and dunking it over his body, soaking him head to toe. He screamed in pain as the alcohol seeped its way into his wounds.
Opening a cabinet next to me, I searched through the empty drawers until I found an old lighter.
“Kaleb, don’t do this!” Frederick begged. “A promotion? I can give you a promotion! You can take my job. I—“
I tapped my foot impatiently against the sticky wooden flooring before crouching next to him again, shushing him. “Frederick, do me a favour.”
He gulped, shaking his head, muttering incoherently.
“Burn bitch.” I then set the floor alight, stepping back and watching as the room around me erupted into glowing, hot flames. The fire wrapped itself around Frederick, yells pouring from his mouth as he wriggled, swatting at it pathetically.
I observed him for a few more seconds before exiting, taking one last look at the burning building, and starting my car.
I wasn’t going to stop at the shooting range. If Freya was going to burn, everything around her would go up in flames, too. That way, she wouldn’t feel so alone.