14. Fourteen Kaleb
Fourteen: Kaleb
S hit. Fuck. A thousand fucks.
I wasn't supposed to kiss Freya. It wasn't meant to happen, but in my desire-driven state, I had. The worst part was that it felt good—more than good. There wasn’t a word to describe it. It was nothing but pure ecstasy.
I wanted my chest flush against hers again. Her delicate hands pressed to my chest while my own snaked around her waist. Fuck, what was wrong with me?
Did I regret it? Yes and no. I wanted it to happen again and again, but I couldn't allow it to. Freya and I were living in two completely different worlds. She was innocent, and I was far from it.
I had killed. I had taken people’s lives and thought nothing of it. She had a promising future ahead of her—a future where she could be safe. Anyone mixed up in my world was a target; she didn’t deserve to be subjected to that.
Many crime organisations knew of us—which was why we had to stay under the radar. A few years ago, one of the guys in my team had his name leaked, and a gang attempted to assassinate his son. They’d almost got away with it.
There was something about Freya that intrigued me, though. She snapped back. She always had an opinion, and I liked it, even if what she was saying was laced with a moody and catty undertone.
When I’d first met her, I’d convinced myself she was the most annoying person to walk the planet. She'd invaded my personal space, but I’d started to see past our differences. I craved being around her. When I’d come home, and she wasn’t in, I'd be somewhat disappointed. I’d never felt these kinds of emotions before, and frankly, they were frightening the fuck out of me.
Not to mention she was the most beautiful women I’d ever laid eyes on. She had dark features—my weakness—and had a body to die for. When she smiled… fuck, it did something to me.
By the time I’d raced outside to reason with her after our kiss, she was gone. I had no choice but to drive home and hope that she’d made it back safely, but I kept an eye out for her the entire journey, driving slowly in case I came across her.
It was just turning twelve when I reached the house, and it was evident that everybody was asleep—all the lights off and the house deathly silent. Brent had tried calling me a few times, but I’d ignored him, and I groaned as his name flashed up on my screen yet again.
The party was probably wrapping up, and he was most likely wondering where I was and if I was coming back to pick him up.
Kaleb : Get a cab home for me, will you? I'll send you some cash for it. See you tomorrow.
My thumbs felt heavy as I typed out the message, moving up the stairs and stopping outside of Freya's room, listening for any sound of her. I needed to see her in the flesh to convince myself she was home and safe.
Knocking on the wood gently, I waited, tapping my foot impatiently against the carpeted floor. The last thing I'd wanted to do was upset her, but my words had wounded her—that much was obvious.
I couldn't allow myself to lose control around her again. It wasn't fair on her—especially because after Christmas, I would be heading back to base, which was hours away, and there was no guarantee I would be stationed there long-term. There were plenty of other bases states away that I could be moved to.
Freya was sensitive and sweet and deserved more than just a Christmas fling. She deserved someone better. More reliable. I was a loose end, and trouble seemed to follow me around like the Grim Reaper. It wasn't right to get her wrapped up in my life issues.
I didn't enjoy invading people's privacy, but I couldn’t wait for a response any longer, so I pushed the bedroom door open slightly, peering in to see Freya snuggled up in bed—I assumed she'd caught a cab home. She appeared asleep, although I wasn't sure if she was pretending to avoid talking to me.
Being a sensitive guy had never been a characteristic I possessed, but Freya made me feel things that had been dormant for years. It was as if she was unlocking a vault within me that I didn't want to be opened, and even though I hated the idea, I couldn't resist handing over the combination. It was endearing just as much as it was frustrating.
Throwing myself into my room and shutting my door a little too loudly, I clamped my eyes shut. I was still buzzed from the kiss, and there was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep.
Tonight was going to be a long night.
I awoke to the sound of my phone vibrating by my ear, and I groaned as I rubbed a hand down my face.
I hadn’t drunk anything last night but a small shot of tequila, but for some fucking reason, I felt as if I was battling a horrid hangover. My limbs were achy. My head was throbbing. And my mind was fuzzy. I’d spent the majority of the night stressing about my kiss with Freya. God, what the hell was she doing to me?
I brought the phone to my ear, readying myself for Brent’s cranky attitude.
“You're late,” he muttered, sighing down the line. “I'm at the shooting range at the time you requested, but you aren't.”
I was usually the one having to remind Brent to be more professional, and I didn't enjoy being scolded like a teenage boy.
“Yeah, I know.” I quietly dragged myself out of bed so he didn't hear the creak through the phone. “I'm literally leaving the house now.”
Brent hummed in response, mumbling a quick hurry up before ending the call.
Knowing I probably smelled of displeasure and regret, I hopped in the shower. It was nine-thirty, and Freya had most likely already left for class.
I didn't know what we were both going to do now. There were two options: go back to how we were when she'd first arrived or pretend that the kiss never happened and continue to be somewhat friendly. I didn't particularly like the sound of either of them. I just wanted what was best for her.
As I’d promised myself, one anonymous email to the school with evidence of Zach’s arrests had been sent. I didn’t get a response, which was expected, but I’d slipped the bait and just needed to wait for the school to bite. He deserved to be rotting in a jail cell for forcing his way into the house and assaulting Freya. Even just thinking about it caused my blood to boil and my skin to crawl.
I reached the shooting range twenty minutes later—met with a very unimpressed-looking Brent. He crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at me.
“I got here early because you told me I couldn't be late one more time, and now you show up looking like absolute shit,” he said, a hint of humour lacing his tone. It seemed he wasn't as angry as he was trying to come across. It took a lot to get him riled up because, for the most part, Brent was a cheerful guy.
I waved his concern away, shaking my head. Even just his voice was intensifying my pounding headache. “I’m not one for apologies, so let’s go inside. You got home fine in the end, and I sent you money for the ride."
Brent shrugged. “I mean, it wasn't too much of an issue for me. I went back to some girl's house and—“
Holding my hand up to stop him, I headed towards the entrance of the shooting range. “I don't want to hear about it. I really don't.”
“Well, at least tell me about your night, then.” Brent nodded at the young receptionist as we entered. The place was busy today. “You said you and Freya went somewhere? But then you never came back. Sounds like an interesting night to me.”
“Shut up before I shoot you instead of the target.” I gripped at my waistband for my gun and delved into my pocket to grab my bullets, but I came up empty-handed, and I furrowed my thick brows. I’d forgotten my extra bullets, and that was something I never did. Ever. It dawned on me that this was the effect that Freya had on my way of thinking. She was muddling my mind. I was mind muddled.
“I forgot my bullets,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. Being here without an extra stash was far too risky. “I'll be right back.”
Heading towards the reception, I greeted the worker behind the desk, her eyes darting up and down my body quickly before she composed herself. “Need anything?” she asked with a smile, leaning forward over the counter a little too much, revealing her cleavage suggestively.
“I need some bullets,” I muttered, ignoring her advance. I wasn't interested in the slightest. “Can you help me out with that?”
“Sure we can,” said a familiar voice from behind me, and I rolled my eyes as I turned to see Will smoking his usual cigarette, looking mighty tired. Did the guy ever sleep? “Usually, we’d ask people to pay a small charge, but there's no need for you to do that, Kaleb.”
I nodded, taking the pack of bullets from the woman behind the desk, and Will glanced directly at her breasts, licking his lips and humming.
Vile.
“Where's your pretty brunette friend?” he questioned me as I re-entered the main building, holding in the irritated sigh I wanted to release. Why was he so nosy? I wasn’t telling him shit about Freya.
“I don’t think she’ll be coming back here,” I replied, wanting to give off the impression that she wasn't anything special to stop Will from hounding me. I was surprised his nose wasn’t red raw from the amount he stuck it into people’s business.
He hummed, dipping his chin at Brent as a greeting , watching him shoot, smiling as he hit the centre of the target. “That's a shame. She was a beauty, wasn't she? But I suppose going back for seconds gives them the wrong message.”
Who the hell was he talking about? He was a married man. I cleared my throat, ignoring Will's comment, hating how he referred to Freya as a beauty , but as much as I wanted to punch him square in the face, I couldn’t.
I couldn't get on his bad side.
It was imperative.