“Take a breath, man.”
Eli’s eyes bleed darkness and I think he’s going to plough right through Oz to get to me but instead he spins on his heel and storms from the room.
I watch him go, trying to calm the adrenaline his reaction sent flooding through me. I’m not mad at him. Out of the four of them he’s the only one treating me the way I deserve to be treated. I may not have killed anyone, but I hurt them, I tortured them. It didn’t matter that my father made me do it, if I’d been stronger, I would have refused, no matter the consequences. Flashes of wide eyes and blood on pale skin flick through mymind. Tears dripping down faces, screams as sharp as the knife I held.
“I think perhaps we could all do with a break.” Oz’s soft voice brings me back to the present.
River nods.
I avoid looking any of them in the eye as I stand up. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I pause at the hallway when I realize, I don’t know where I’m going. I close my eyes.
“Second door on your right,” Oz says gently.
I don’t trust myself to speak yet, so I carry on without saying anything.
Their bathroom matches the rest of the house, sleek and modern with a black marble counter and a shining white sink. I guess being an FBI agent pays an awful lot better than a detective. Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to be getting a cut. For years I’ve dreamed of being a profiler. Now this case is the closest I’ll ever get. I may have gotten my phone back yesterday, but River kept my gun and badge. When this is over, chances are I won’t even have a job, let alone a shot at working for the FBI.
I turn the faucet on cold and splash water on my face. My hands tremble as I grip the edge of the sink. I watch the water drip down my pale cheeks in the mirror. I’m always fair-skinned but right now I’m just a shade off ghost. There’s only one other person in the world who I’ve told what I confessed to River and his team. Carmen. The forger who got me a new ID, did more than give me a fresh start. She took me in for a year until I turned eighteen and was old enough to apply for the police force. She also gave me all the skills I’d need to get through the Academy and make detective so quickly. River can ask all he wants but I’ll never turn her in.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out to find a text from Luke asking how the hell I managed to get on the case with the FBI and can I get him in on it too. River didn’t want to blowmy cover, so we agreed to let everyone believe I’m consulting in my capacity as a detective, not a murderer’s daughter. I guess word has spread. I text Luke back saying he’s out of luck, but I’ll buy him a beer to make up for it.
I need to leave the bathroom before someone comes looking for me, but I hesitate, opening up the contacts app. One call to Carmen and she’d get me out of here without a trace. I could start over again, somewhere new.
Of course, there’s my new piece of jewelry to consider. The black tracker collars my ankle, a constant reminder that in River’s mind I’m a criminal. Carmen could probably figure out a way to disable it, but River isn’t wrong. I am a criminal. I may not have killed anyone, but I stood by as my father did. Over, and over again. I want to be mad at Eli for making me feel like shit, but I can’t be, because he’s right. I don’t deserve to be free and if I have any chance of clearing my conscience, I need to stop my father. I need to keep my promise.
I tuck my phone into my pocket and dry off my face, then I put my poker face back on and leave the bathroom.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Eli
FUCK. THIS SHIT is harder than I thought it would be. I don’t think I can work with her. Hearing what she said, what she’s done…
I link my hands together behind my head and drop my chin to my chest, stretching out my aching neck. I need to talk to River.
I pull myself together enough to come out of my room, but the second I open my door I seeher.She freezes, like she can feel my eyes on her, but she doesn’t look up. After a second, she finishes closing the bathroom door and turns to walk down the corridor back to the others.
“Scared to be alone with me?” My normally jokey tone comes out mocking.
Freya stops walking, her long ginger waves flicking over her shoulder as she twists to look at me. “Should I be?”
Her calmness pisses me off. She acts like the things she’s done don’t matter. The lies she’s told, the people she’s hurt. I want to fucking shake her, shout at her, show her that there are consequences to her actions.Should she be scared?
I take a step forward, my hands clenching by my sides. “Maybe.”
Instead of running to the living room, Freya walks towards me and tilts her head back to meet my gaze.
“Do you treat all your assets like this or is it personal?”
Her words hit a little too close to the bone. I don’t remember deciding to move but the next thing I know I have Freya pressed up against the wall, my hand around her throat. My heart kicks against my ribs. I breathe in, the sweet strawberry scent of Freya’s shampoo teasing my senses. My cock hardens inside my jeans. Before Oz discovered her true identity, I’d already been making plans to get Freya in my bed. She’d have purred like a kitten as I played with her, running my tongue along her pussy, sucking at her clit, and pulling away just before she came.
Instead, I’ve got her pinned against a wall.
I’m not normally like this. Horny, sure, but not violent, not angry. I’m never myself when it comes to Arthur Maxwell though because Freya was right - it’s personal.
My hand flexes, squeezing her slender neck. Each breath she takes presses against my palm. I’m not cutting off her air, but she doesn’t scream. In fact, she squirms a little and when I lean in close, towering over her, her pupils dilate. Apparently, I’m not the only one turned on by this.
“Well, you’re full of surprises now, aren’t you?”
