Chapter 4 – Freya
I wasn’t prepared to enter the furnace, but I’d gone in anyway and gotten scorched by the flames.
After waving my last goodbye to Mila with a smile on my face, who not-so-subtly hopped into John’s car with a baseball cap on, I got into mine, strapped the seatbelt, and adjusted the rearview mirror.
Deeply, I inhaled. Then, I stared at my hands on the wheel. They were shaking so hard that it felt like I’d frozen in the Arctic and was trying to thaw.
Honestly, that interview had to be the most exciting yet bone-wracking thing I’d done in the year because what the actual shit?
I’d been nervous as hell but managed to keep my cool.
Still trembling fingers, I pulled out a picture from my wallet, slowly tracing the worn edges as memories came pouring back like it was only yesterday. Seeing his smile again instantly warmed me to my core.
Officer Aaron Fox, now deceased, had been many, many things, namely a top-ranking officer in the narcotics department for the Los Angeles Police Department. His brother, my uncle, had died. Diagnosis? Drug overdose. Hard drugs. Uncle Teddy’s death fueled his passion to work tirelessly, trying to rid the city of those infesting it with drugs.
My father had been dedicated to the cause. I’d seen no one more diligent about it than him, which earned him respect. He was a friend to many, a role model to most, and my hero. But most importantly, he was my father.
And I missed him.
I missed him a lot. Thinking about the days I’d spent without him was like taking a spear to my heart and ripping it out.
I missed our long conversations when he’d rush in twenty minutes before lights out just to say goodnight. I missed his warm smile and encouraging words when I needed motivation. I missed the way he made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. I missed his witty jokes and crazy life advice that somehow worked out anyway. I missed his solid belief in me.
My father never made me feel or even think I couldn’t achieve the impossible. He stood on the sidelines and cheered when I went for soccer tryouts and sort of failed. He was still there, supporting me during my successes and talking me out of my failures. When I wanted to join the swim team, he challenged me to be my best self and pushed me out of my comfort zone—even if I found out that the swim team wasn’t my thing, either.
My father always made me feel like I was a part of something bigger than myself.
I missed the days when he’d take me out into the rain for the most absurd reasons. One time, it was for a random shooting practice. The other time, it was after a fight with my best friend, Ruby, two days after we both turned fifteen. He’d made me scream my frustration at the pouring skies, and afterward, I did feel better.
That night, we drank hot chocolate on the couch and watched a bit of Netflix, and he kissed my forehead, assuring me that everything between us was going to be fine.
A week later, after the fight with Ruby, Sergeant Keith called our house.
My dad had died in a car accident.
An eighteen-wheeler crushed his sedan on the highway.
He was rushed to the ER but never made it. The sergeant said he’d called my name before drawing his last breath.
Hurriedly, I tucked the picture away, hiding his smiling face with crinkles at the corner of his eyes and blinking back tears. Seven years later, his death still stung.
It was the reason I was doing all of this, the reason I’d become a detective. To honor him, continue his legacy, and purge our city of those drug dealers. Most especially, the Russians and Irish families running the show.
And that was where he came in.
Egor Yezhov.
The dour man who possessed everything at the same time. He was as charming as he was terrifying, intimidating, and threatening. With those hard, emotionless green eyes that bore to the depths of a person’s soul, like he knew everything, saw everything; lips, full and grim; and the rest of him too delicious and searing to forget.
I’d committed him to memory. Every single detail.
The subtle tick of his jaw when he thought I wasn’t watching; the smooth side-part of his hair that made the rogue in him appear like a gentleman; the clean, chiseled jawline that could give a pass for a supermodel; and his neck—the part that made me warm all over—a hint of black ink peeking out from above the collar of his white dress shirt.
God.
The man was hot. Undeniably the hottest man I’d ever encountered. He was the kind of man any woman would be happy to jump on and ride. Every word from his lips had sent cool shivers down my toes. But the red flag flying above his head was too bright to ignore. It was bright red, a loud neon sign with a megaphone attached. “CRIMINAL,” it announced.
It was such a shame that the sexy man was a criminal, and not just any criminal. Oh, no, this one was the kingpin at the very helm of affairs, with many offenses on his hands, including the blood of his uncle.
I sighed and rested on the headrest. Thoroughly disgusting . Irritating. Sad. Anyone with a heart—or obviously lacking a heart—who was able to kill family for money and power was a monster.
He was a monster.
And should NOT be fantasized about.
I copied that and cleared the growing images of his hard, sculpted body from my mind.
A slow buzz started beside me. Turning to my side, I grabbed my tote bag from the passenger seat. I fished out my phone, glared at the lit screen, and groaned. I put the phone on speaker.
There was a cackle and muffled sounds of things moving before her voice came from the other end of the line. “Is this call on speaker?”
I massaged my temple with a smile. “A normal conversation always starts with, ‘hello’ or ‘hi.’”
She laughed. “Nothing’s ever been normal about us, sweetie.”
“That’s for you to say.” Movement from outside caught my eye. John was heading to his Audi with a knapsack slung over his shoulder. When he shut the door, he leaned over to Mila’s side and smacked a big French kiss on her lips. I smiled and looked away.
Ruby’s voice reeled me back. “Hello? Earth to Freya?”
“I’m here, I’m here.”
She huffed, feigning annoyance. “Did you fall into a hole or something? Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere. Something’s up between John and Mila. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out soon enough.”
“When you say something’s up….”
“I mean, they had sex last night at Max’s promotion party, and when I brought it up today, he looked like I’d forced lime juice down his throat. And now, they’re making out in his car. Steamy windows and all.”
Ruby shrieked. “Holy shit! You mean hot Malibu John and Weird Mila are getting into it right now? Wouldn’t I have loved to see his body, all sweaty and so—"
“Hold up, what do you mean Weird Mila ?” My nose scrunched up when I remembered that John used the exact same word to describe her. “She’s not weird.”
“Yes.” Ruby munched on something. “Yes, she is, and she’s so not his type.”
I choked back a laugh. “Uh, what? Mila is…. Oh, my God, we’re not doing this right now, Ruby. I’m not going to continue this conversation because, frankly, what John does with Mila is none of my business.”
“Exactly!” Her excitement was suddenly over the roof. “Making plans for Friday night at Ruth’s is your business.”
My eyebrows shot up. “A party.”
“Yup. A party. Doesn’t matter if you say it like it’s a death wish, Freya, it’s a fucking par-tay! And I’ve got the sweetest teensy-weensy dress for you. I swear, the guys are going to drop like flies once they see you in that—”
“I’m not going.”
She paused. “What?”
“Ruby….”
“No, Freya. You don’t get to do this again,” she whined. “This is the third time you’ve canceled. In one month.”
“I can’t, Ru. I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot of stuff to do on Friday, okay? Work, work, work. It’s been a busy week, and it’s going to be a busy weekend, too. But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
For a minute, she didn’t say anything. But when she did, I knew immediately that I’d been forgiven.
“Ice cream at your place by nine. Make sure you have those coconut toppings that I like.” And she hung up.
I smiled, dropping the phone, but the joy didn’t last very long. Not when his voice kept ringing in my ears.
Run for as long as you can, Detective. Believe me, you don’t want me to catch you.
He was the reason I’d said no to Friday’s plans with Ruby.
A man like Egor didn’t make threats. They made decrees, and that was what scared me the most. He’d never say what he didn’t mean.
I thought about Ruby and then my mom, who was somewhere, living close to the mountains with her husband and her thirteen-year-old daughter, my half-sister, Zeya, who was the absolute sweetest. I couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to them.
To survive him, I had to keep a low profile, stay away from parties or places that could lead me straight to his goons, and keep the ones I loved safe.
But most importantly, I had to live long enough to bring him down.