“You’re on.” She reaches for a chicken wing and takes a bite. She chews. Swallows.
“And?”
“Totally fine.” Her words are nonchalant, but a steady blush rises up her neck to her cheeks. “Yep, all good. Easy peasy lemon–” Her eyes bug out. “Holy shit.”
I laugh as she stuffs two dough balls in her mouth and screws up her face. When she’s wiped the tears out of her eyes, she pushes the plate towards me.
“No way José,” I say, holding up my hands.
Her mouth drops open. “Traitor!”
“It’s just like my granddad used to say. Why learn from your own mistakes when you can learn from others.”
Freya scowls. “I’m eatingallthe dough balls,” she says, tucking the basket in towards her chest.
I eye the copious amount of food on our table. “I think I’ll survive.”
It takes us about two hours to stuff ourselves as full as we can. In some sort of unspoken agreement, we steer clear of any heavy talk about the case or Freya’s past. Instead, I tell her about my family. The five siblings I have and my parents who are embarrassingly proud of their FBI agent son. We’re all good now, but I caused them my fair share of grey hairs when I was a teen in trouble with the law for hacking into government sites. I tell her that’s how I got recruited, aged seventeen, and the impressed look in her eyes has me feeling a hundred feet tall.
I may have made some mistakes when I was younger but if they led me to here, with her, I’d make them all over again.
Eventually though, our plates are empty, and I have to take her home.
She follows me back in Jude’s car and by the time we pull up to the house and she climbs out onto the drive, all the tension that our dinner drained away is back.
She slips her hand into mine as we walk to the front door.
I turn the keys in the lock and push it open.
River is sitting on the armchair in the living area, in direct view of the door. He closes the book he’s reading and lifts his gaze. His hard eyes skate over me and settle on Freya.
She sucks in a breath.
“Come here,” he orders.
Freya’s hand spasms in mine but she doesn’t move. Even though Freya’s mad at River, she couldn’t help talking about him over dinner. She might be scared of her feelings for him, but she’s not scaredofhim, so I decide to let this play out.
“Freya,” River growls. “You have five seconds to do as your told. Five, four...”
I know what she’s going to do before she does it. I also know River needs to get over himself and having to chase her might well be just the thing to push him over the edge. So I let go of her hand.
“Three–”
Freya legs it up the stairs.
River stands up. He strides towards the stairs, pausing when he reaches me. “Is she okay?” he asks, a tinge of regret in his voice.
I nod. “She’s strong.”
“Good.” River starts up the steps.
“Have fun, brother,” I call after him.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Freya
I DIDN’T RUN because I’m scared. Not really. Okay, maybe a little bit. But River can look damn intimidating when he’s in dominant mode. Mostly, though, I ran so I had time to hide the device Carmen gave me. I’ve just tucked it at the back of my bedside table drawer when River opens the door to my room.
