“Oz, I need you to trace a call.”
Jude paces the room as Oz gets set up.
I lean against the island, digging my hand into the back of my neck. The burns I got from the explosion when Zach set us up only add to the ache from the old motorcycle injury, but in some ways the pain is satisfying. It feels right to have a physical manifestation of the damage Freya’s caused to my heart. I didn’t think it would beat again after Maxwell killed my mother, but clearly it restarted at some point because each day Freya’s gone it beats a little slower.
“Okay,” Oz says, looking up from his laptop. “We’re good to go.”
River nods, types in the number, and presses call.
The phone rings eight times before the call is accepted and the line goes quiet.
My breath catches as a cool, feminine voice answers but it’s not Freya.
“Agent River Park.”
River’s eyes darken as he answers. “Carmen.”
He presses his splayed hands into the marble surface of the island and glowers at the phone.
We’ve all changed over the past couple of months. Oz isn’t sleeping, spending hours online searching for Freya. Jude’s become quieter than he’s ever been and much to the guys’ dismay I’ve started riding again. I know it’s not a great idea when my emotions are this on edge and my body pays for it, butspeeding down the road on the back of Freya’s bike is the only place I feel close to her.
River though, he’s changed the most. I’ve known him since I was eight years old and no matter how bad things got, he’s always been the steady one. The control he demands, not just of others but of himself, keeps him grounded. He acts within a carefully prescribed framework. Or he did.
This River… this River calls to the darker side of me. I recognize what’s happening to him because I’ve been there. Only instead of spiraling like I did at fourteen, River’s control is focusing all of that darkness on one thing. Freya.
“I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed,” Carmen says, her voice ringing through the kitchen as Oz taps away. “I thought it would take you longer than two months to reach me.”
“Where is she, Carmen?”
“She’s safe.”
River’s tone lowers. “That’s not what I asked.”
“She came to me for a reason,” Carmen answers, her voice just as unforgiving. “I’m not going to break her trust.”
River glances at Oz.
He shakes his head and slams the laptop shut. Knowing what we do about her, it’s not a fucking surprise that Carmen is able to hide her location but Oz pinches the bridge of his nose, frustration digging into his brows.
The tendons in River’s neck tense. He snatches the phone off the island and strides towards his office, his Oxfords clacking against the wood.
I follow after him, because apparently these days I have to be the fucking responsible one.
I catch the door before he can slam it and slip inside the dimly lit office.
The desk that is normally impeccable is scattered with casefiles.
River puts the phone on top of an open folder and sits down in the faux leather chair. The lamp behind the desk casts a shadow over his face, intensity bleeding off of him.
I tuck my hands behind my back and lean against the wall by the door. “Just, tell us if she’s okay or not, Carmen,” I say. If River hears that Freya’s safe, it might take the edge off, bring him out of the tunnel vision he’s blinded by right now.
A soft sigh echoes from the phone. “She just needs time. And space.”
“Respectfully Carmen, that’s bullshit.” River’s gaze zeros in on the lit-up screen. “She was better with us, and you know it.”
I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall. I hate that from the sounds of it, Freya isn’t okay, and I hate that Carmen isn’t backing down.
“She doesn’t want to be with you right now.”
