Page 88 of Law Of Love

I glared at my palms.

All I could see were the hands of a killer.

Thirty-nine: Kaleb

Sixty days. Sixty fucking days without seeing or talking to Freya.

My heart felt like it was going to explode, and my head throbbed from lack of sleep and dehydration. She’d been taken to the hospital the evening of the incident, but after that, she’d immediately moved in with Hannah. I understood why she felt like she couldn’t see me. I hadn’t been honest with her, and I'd almost shot her father. Almost.

In that moment, I couldn’t think, but the thought of Will killing Freya… terror had torn through me. Would I have actually shot her father? I wasn't sure. I liked to think I wouldn't have and was just trying to stall Will, but it was impossible to place myself back in the situation.

I’d sent Freya a couple of texts, but she hadn’t responded. I didn't want to crowd her, though. She'd talk to me when she was ready—if that feeling ever came. Each passing day without her felt like a bulldozer was agonisingly crushing my body to the ground over and over again, rendering me helpless.

Freya’s mother had moved out too—to a cute little apartment not far from the house—and after a week away, Freya had joined her.

She was all I could think about; it was eating me from the inside out.

What was worse than dying? Feeling like I was dying, but knowing it was just my mind playing tricks on me and I wasn't going to eventually succumb to the pain. My body was completely healthy—it was my mind that wasn't. Without her, I was lost. Nothing. A shell of a man.

This was fucked.

The beat of the booming music irritated me, and I leaned back against the booth and scanned the crowd, seeing nothing but wildly drunk people singing and dancing.

I wanted to stick forks in my eyes. It’d beat being at a club.

I sipped on my ice-cold water, grinding my teeth and rolling my eyes when a smiling brunette slipped into the seat opposite me, blocking my view. I was here for one reason and for one reason only, and it didn’t involve the chipper girl.

“How come you’re sitting here all alone?” she questioned, leaning forward, and I glanced at her for a brief second, praying that my irritation was evident in my tired eyes.

I was in uniform. Was she blind? Did the bulky bulletproof vest not give it away?

“Working,” I responded, looking past her shoulder at my client, a big smile plastered on her face as she twirled around on the VIP dance floor with her friends.

“Oh.” The girl in front of me raised her eyebrows. “Are you a bartender here?”

“No.”

She hummed, her hand brushing against mine, and I pulled away before she could continue her unnecessary touching.

“What’s your name?”

“Respectfully, I’m going to need you to go away. I have no interest in you or what you’re offering.”

The brunette’s teeth clicked shut, and she swallowed, shooting me a sour look before rushing off.

Some people just couldn’t take rejection.

My phone vibrated from my pocket, and I pulled it out at record speed, my face dropping when Brent’s name flashed across the screen. I wasn’t supposed to take personal calls when on the job, but I hadn’t spoken to Brent for just over a week.

“Hey,” I said loudly over the music, plugging my other ear with my finger.

“Hi. Man, where the hell are you? It’s loud!”

“At some shitty club,” I said. “How’s base?”

Brent had been moved to a base in Colorado and rarely had time to talk. Apparently, he was swamped with cases.

“It’s fine. Kaylee’s visiting next weekend, so I’m looking forward to that.” He paused. “Still heard nothing from Freya?”

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