Page 9 of Law Of Love

I rolled my eyes, throwing back another shot, dropping the plastic cup on the counter.

“Tough day?” he asked, pouring himself a shot and downing it, keeping intense eye contact with me as he did so. He drank it as if it were water, a few droplets of liquid escaping, seeping out of the corners of his mouth. His hand moved to run over his buzz-cut head, and he leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He was good-looking, for sure, but not really my type.

“I guess you could say that,” I replied, giving up on the shot glass and grabbing the bottle of tequila, taking a large swig of it, and attempting to swallow it without a reaction—just like he had. However, I was sure that my display was less convincing.

“I'm Brent,” he said, holding his large hand out for me to shake.

“Freya.”

“So, how do you know Kaleb? I haven't seen you around.”

“My mom and I are staying here for a while. She's good friends with Jackie.” I gestured to the surrounding space. “Is there a special occasion I’m missing here?”

“It's Kaleb's 'welcome home' celebration. He hasn't seen most of these people for over three years. He doesn't visit often.”

It made sense. Kaleb didn’t look like he was a fan of most of these people.

“You’d think he’d be a little more inclined to relax at age twenty-six, but the guy’s a bit of a workaholic.” Brent rolled his eyes.

“How do you know Kaleb?”

“We're both based at the same bodyguard base, but we've been friends since we were young.”

“Did you guys come back together?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Brent nodded, pulling open the fridge, grabbing a beer, and popping it open with his teeth. “Yeah, we followed the same career path. We share a house near base, but when I told him I was coming down early for Christmas, he did the same.”

“Right, so what does being a bodyguard involve?” I’d been interested in querying Kaleb on the subject, but I knew I’d probably receive a scoff or a glare as my answer.

Brent shrugged. “It's kind of a mix of everything since it’s a private company, but we just use the term bodyguard because it's easier. We're trained to do raids, too, as well as guard people who need protection. We work alongside the police since they’re so understaffed.”

My eyes travelled down to Brent's waistband, a bulky object strapped to it, and they widened once I realised what it was.

He laughed, pulling the small handgun from its holster and holding it up. “We carry them everywhere.”

“Does Kaleb have one?” I asked, gulping and touching the cool black metal of the gun, having never seen one before in real life.

Brent nodded.

The thought of Kaleb being involved with raids and handling deadly weapons made me even more intimidated by him, knowing he was trained to fight and, most likely, kill if necessary. It caused me to shiver, and I wondered if he had ever actually taken anybody's life.

“We're about to play a game. Do you want to join?” asked Brent, holding his hand out for me to take.

I hesitated for a brief second, humming. What did I have to lose?

I grabbed Brent’s hand, allowing him to pull me through the kitchen doorway, stopping behind the couch that Kaleb was sitting opposite. He narrowed his eyes slightly when he noticed Brent's hand intertwined with mine, his questionable gaze lingering on his friend a little longer than necessary.

I attempted to gaze down at his waistband for any sign of a gun, but his shirt was covering too much, and I didn't want to get caught looking. The last thing I needed was for Kaleb to think I was checking him out.

“Okay, let's play,” said Brent, pulling me towards the couch, ushering everyone to move up so there was room for me to perch on the end, facing Kaleb and his watchful gaze.

Five: Freya

Iglanced down at the cup in the middle of the coffee table, a multitude of cards splayed around it. It was filled with a brownish, foamy liquid, and I was pretty confident it was a mixture of a few alcohols that definitely didn't belong together.

“Pick a card,” encouraged Brent, nodding at me, and I snuck a glance at Kaleb. He swung his muscular arm over the back of the couch, getting himself comfy as he watched me. Sweat coated the back of my neck like a white-hot spotlight was shining on me from above, raising my temperature by what felt like fifty degrees.

“It's a three of clubs,” I stated after I picked one and turned it over, looking around at everybody, unsure of what I was supposed to do next.

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