Chapter 18 Freya
EIGHTEEN
FREYA
I cried softly into the helmet, no longer caring how weak or fragile I sounded doing it.
I was scared. Petrified out of my mind. San Diego was not a nice place.
I didn’t like it. And I didn’t want to be here any longer than I needed.
Fuck the answers I wanted. Fuck the answers I sought.
And fuck any other piece of family I might have out there.
My mother was right. It wasn’t safe for me here.
I should have listened to my fucking parents.
I felt like such an idiot.
I clung to Bronx as tightly as I could. I pulled from him as much comfort and warmth as I could get.
I let my hands explore underneath his leather jacket, my hands sliding underneath his shirt too.
I traced the rings of his abs, his muscles jumping.
I slid my hands up to his chest before curling my fingertips into the strength of his muscles.
I wanted to take this damn helmet off and press my cheek against his back.
I wanted to feel his heartbeat from every angle I could.
I wrapped my arms tightly around his bare waist, and not once did he fight me on it.
I locked my ears onto the undulating waves.
As we cruised up the coast, I drew in the thick smell of salt water.
Slowly, my heart settled, and my tears dried up.
I was exhausted. Tired. Weak, in the marrow of my bones.
Never in my life had I felt this way. I’d always been able to reach within myself and find the strength to keep going.
Keep moving. Keep trucking on despite the roadblocks and the unanswered questions I always faced.
But not today.
Today, I simply wanted to hear my father’s voice.
I owe my parents a serious apology.
The bike stopped and I lifted my head. The kickstand went down, and the motorcycle’s engine got shut off. I plucked the helmet from around my head and wiped at the tears. I cleaned the inside of it with the hem of my tank top, hoping to dry it off a bit before I handed it back over.
“It’s fine. It’s okay, Freya. It’ll dry on its own,” Bronx said.
He slowly took the helmet from me as I heaved a heavy sigh.
“Where are we?” I asked.
I looked up and saw a looming building that didn’t have much character to it.
Four walls, a wrap-around porch, and what looked like a tin roof.
I mean, it was a decent size. Easily the size of many of the miniature mansions strewn across California’s coast. And it sat right on the cliffside overlooking the ocean.
Had I not been so tired from being so terrified, I would have gawked at the view this building had.
But all I wanted to do was sleep.
“This is our lodge. Where The Lost Boys meet up. We all have our offices and bedrooms inside. It’s outfitted with a kitchen and enough bathrooms for everyone to not have to share. Well, too much,” Bronx said.
“Ah. Yeah, I’m familiar with the concept,” I said breathlessly.
“Come on. Let’s get you inside. And stay by me, okay? We’ve got a bit more hell to walk through before you can rest.”
I rolled my eyes. “And why is that?”
“Because the club doesn’t trust you.”
“Really? And what the hell have I done to them?” I asked.
“Because of the shit that has been going down, they’re concerned you might be another trap.”
I snickered. “Yeah. A trap that just got tossed into one.”
“They don’t know what’s happened. But once we tell them, they’re more likely to listen to you. And the request you have.”
“I don’t give a damn about some half-sister any longer. I just want to do home.”
He paused. “You can go home once we have this figured out. But right now? You’re not safe on the streets of San Diego by yourself.”
“And something tells me that’s less to do with me and more to do with my association with you.”
I locked my eyes with his and I saw something akin to hurt roll behind them.
Those dark brown eyes that had always been so caring and open to me suddenly became dark.
Like a wall had come down. Shit. I just kept fucking up things at every turn.
His hand slowly made its way back to his side and he turned his back to me, walking straight for the front door.
“You coming or not?” he asked hotly.
You and that damn mouth, Freya. Your mother always warned you about it.
I got off the bike and quickly followed behind Bronx. I rushed up the stairs and saw him bring his hand down onto the doorknob, but I reached out to stop him. I put my hand over his, which caused him to turn his eyes my way. A pair of big, sad, stoic eyes that made my heart break all over again.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You have no reason to be. You’re right. You’re in this mess because you got entangled with me,” he said.
“I’m in this mess because I chose to come looking for it. I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”
“You’re fine. But we really should—”
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
His hand fell away from the doorknob, and he turned toward me.
“Yes. I do,” he said.
“Then, that’s all I need. If they don’t trust me, that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that you do, Bronx.”
He sighed like he was fighting a war within himself.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I trusted you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“What?”
“I know it sounds idiotic, but I did. Even when I knew you were withholding information at the diner, I trusted you would tell me. Eventually. And I haven’t been as trustworthy with you as I should have been.”
“It’s fine. You’re in a really tough spot, Bronx.”
“No, I’m really not. I trust you, and that should be enough to tell you about Hayley.”
I paused. “Who?”
“The girl in your picture. Your half-sister? Her name is Hayley.”
I froze. Holy shit, a name. I had a name. Finally, after going through all the bullshit I had, I had her name.
“Hayley,” I whispered.
“Her name is Hayley Woolf. And I have every intention of telling you everything about her and why your parents actually think it’s dangerous for you to be in San Diego. Because, contrary to what you think, the danger doesn’t lie in anything you’ve already encountered in this city.”
I snickered. “Well, sounds like a peachy place to be.”
He chuckled. “I like it.”
“I do too.”
He grinned down at me before shaking his head.
“I will tell you all about her, but you have to trust me and go along with what I say to the guys. All right?” he asked.
I furrowed my brow. “Why? Why is your crew so protective of her? What am I missing? Why am I automatically the bad guy and she’s automatically the angel in this scenario?”
“Because that’s how it works when you’re about to marry the president.”
“Say what now?”
Bronx reached for the doorknob and twisted it, inching the door open.
“Your half-sister just got engaged to our president. So, our instinct—and our code—tells us to protect her at all costs, from everything, until the supposed threat can prove that it’s not a threat,” he said.
“With the threat being me in this scenario.”
“Exactly. And with you coming from this lifestyle—”
“—you figured I’d understand that part.”
The door swung open the rest of the way as he nodded his head.
And when the door opened, three other men turned toward us.
One who was a bit taller than Bronx with a mean face on him.
One with bright blonde hair and piercing eyes that stood in the middle.
And one that was a little scrawnier than the rest and stood off to the right.
They all leveled their eyes at me, and one by one I watched their faces turn red.
“Yes. I figured you’d understand that part,” Bronx murmured.
So, I braced myself for what I knew was coming—the verbal assault on Bronx and the interrogation that would fly my way before I could figure out what the hell my next move should be.