Freya stared at the bland, beige wall across from her.

The FBI wasn’t allowing her to leave. There wasn’t a good reason for her to be detained, and no one was giving her a straight answer. She had the sinking suspicion her father was involved.

At least Jaxon was still with her. He hadn’t given the agents much option, really. Besides, she needed him. Especially if her dad was going to get involved. Finally. It likely wasn’t even to find Michelle. Their father couldn’t care less what happened to them, but he did care about public opinion. So far, they’d had an understanding that so long as Michelle and Freya remained out of the public eye, they could do whatever they wanted.

A man Freya had known for maybe a year cared more about her than her own father.

Speaking of Jaxon...

Freya crossed to the door and pulled it open. Where the hell was he?

She peered up and down the hall.

To her knowledge, the FBI had this whole block of rooms just for their use. Doors were open. People hustled from room to room with papers in hand. Shelby had said that this team was highly mobile and focused on finding Yuri, so they worked apart from the local FBI team. All Freya knew was that no one spoke to her, only about her, and she really wanted to get out of here.

“Ms. Thorburn?” A bright eyed woman wearing a FBI jacket paused in front of Freya, a tablet and clipboard in hand.

“Yes?”

“Has anyone been to speak with you about coordinating with your father?”

“My father?” Freya hated being right.

“Yes, we have been asked to help facilitate your travel arrangements—”

“Let me stop you right there.” Freya held up her hand. “The only place I’ll be traveling to is my apartment. My father doesn’t give two shits about me or Michelle. If you want me out of your hair, say the word and I’m gone.”

“That’s not a good idea, Ms. Thorburn. You need to consider your security.”

“What are my non-father-related options then?” Freya crossed her arms over her chest. This was a point she would not budge on. Ever.

“You can’t go back to your apartment, Ms. Thorburn. Not while Yuri Gabor is alive and breathing. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

Jaxon hustled down the hall, dinner in hand and a scowl on his face.  Freya stepped back and let him in before allowing the door to bang shut.

“What was that about?” Jaxon asked.

“My dad.” She practically growled the words.

“What did he want?”

“To control the story.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Well, I might not know how to help there, but I did get you this.” He handed her the sack of food.

“What is it?” She peered inside and gasped.

Nestled between the burger and fries was a plastic bag with a phone in it. She’d been going stir crazy, wanting to check a hundred things, but the FBI wouldn’t allow it. Probably because of her dad. He wouldn’t lift a finger to help his kids, but he would slap a gag order on them.

“Thank you.” Freya wrapped her arms around Jaxon’s shoulders, lifting herself up on tip toe.

What would she do without him? He kept looking out for her and asked for nothing in return. Not a damn thing. When this was over, she wanted to do something for him. With him. As a thank you, but also because she appreciated what he didn’t have to do.

“You’re welcome.” Jaxon stroked her back. “I’ve got a few conditions I need you to stick to though.”

“Like?” She pulled back, frowning up at him.

“No public posts. We can’t step on the FBI’s toes, and if Gabor is still gunning for you, I don’t want him to know anything about how you’re doing or where you’re at. Deal?”

“Deal.” Freya wasn’t much of a public person anyway.

She lifted up on tip toe and kissed Jaxon’s cheek, keeping it short and sweet.

There were things to be done, like ensuring her roommate had extra locks on the door and her pepper spray out. If Yuri knew anything about her, where she lived would be on that list.

Freya spent a few moments downloading some apps while she munched on her burger. Jaxon retreated to the corner with a text book and some note cards. He’d given up so much to help her, the least she could do was stay out of his hair while he tried to study.

She’d need to start thinking about that soon. Very soon. She’d passed up her opportunity to start her PhD work, and now there was no guarantee there’d be a spot for her.

She added it to a mental to do list of things to work on later.

Her email was first. It was overflowing with junk and spam messages, plus several notices from her employer. Tardy slips, dings for not showing up or making quota. Ah, there it was.

Her termination notice.

“I got fired,” she said.

She sighed and moved on to the real messages. Most she starred to come back to later. The thing about email was that few people seemed to use it.

Freya did a drive by on her social media, but the notifications were just too much.

Part of her dreaded seeing what her roommate was up to. After weeks of being MIA and not contributing to bills, would her stuff be gone? Would her room be sublet out from under her?

Freya had pre-paid the last round of bills, but her roommate had a rather ruthless turn-and-burn policy about being stiffed on rent and so forth. But how to get in touch with her?

Freya clicked back to her email.

She had a new message with the subject Tonight On The Main Stage...

It was more curiosity than anything else that enticed her to click.

The message flickered to a white screen, and then, line by line, the embedded image came to life. A woman with wheat-blonde hair and suntanned skin, with smile lines around her mouth appeared.

“Oh my God.” Freya dropped the phone on the bed, gaping at the image.

“What? What is it?” Jaxon was up and across the room in a moment.

She stared, unable to speak the words. He picked up the phone and stared at the screen, his face going hard. Deadly.

“It’s Liv.”

Jaxon scrolled down on the message. “There’s no text, just the picture.”

Someone banged on the door.

Freya just kept staring at the phone.

“Hey? Hey, look at me.” Jaxon bent and shoved the phone under her pillow. “They probably already saw the email, okay?”

“What...?”

“I don’t know. Sit tight, okay?”

Jaxon squeezed her hand then crossed to the bedroom door.

Freya listened to the voices, people asking questions. Who was Liv? Did either her or Jaxon know the sender? Could it be Yuri?

She didn’t have it in her to answer.

Of course it was Yuri. Who else would it be?

He wanted to terrorize her, keep her on the knife’s edge. Her dad liked to do that when she was younger.

Freya shook her head.

He’d sent her a picture. A threat. Because he wanted to be in control.

She listened to what Jaxon and the two agents were saying with only some attention.

If Yuri had Liv and Michelle, then he was close still. In-the-city close. And he wanted something from her. Likely her compliance.

Freya could feel the wheels starting to spin, but she kept staring at the floor.

Let the agents believe she was still fragile and in shock.

Yuri was going to ask for something soon. A trade. A demand. Something.

Freya needed to be able to do what he asked, and she couldn’t if she was here in FBI custody. The agents and cops looking for Yuri, Michelle and Liv wanted to bring everyone home safe. Freya only wanted for other people to stop paying the price for her safety. Their end game goals were not the same.

Jaxon wouldn’t agree with her, he’d try to stop her. And that meant she needed to get away from him, too.

“I need some air,” she announced and edged past Jaxon and the others.

Freya wrapped her arms around herself. Lying to Jaxon would be the worst of it. He’d given up so much to find her, to help her, and now she would be running from him, too. But it had to be done.

It was time to stand up for herself and meet this problem head on.

Jaxon watched Freya’s braid swing back and forth. There was a purpose to her step. She wasn’t just pacing the hall, she was going somewhere.

“Will you let us know if anything else comes in?” he asked.

“Once we verify it, yes.” The female agent duo turned and headed the opposite direction of Freya.

Jaxon considered going after her, but first...

He ducked inside and checked under the pillow.

The phone was gone.

Freya had a plan.

He was willing to bet that she wasn’t just going to the snack machine.

He dumped his books back into his backpack and checked his watch.

Freya had spent most of her time in FBI custody holed up in this room, or in questioning. She hadn’t been permitted to roam the hotel or leave the hall, which meant she didn’t know the lay of the land or where the guards keeping an eye on things were posted.

He glanced at his watch.

She should have made it as far as the agent at the end of the hall where the main elevators were. That man would inevitably turn her back. She wasn’t a prisoner, but she wasn’t free to come and go as she pleased.

He shouldered his bag and pulled the hat he’d found hanging off a fire extinguisher in the hall. He slid that into the pocket on the inside of his jacket and headed out.

Jaxon didn’t hesitate. He turned left, ambling in no hurry whatsoever in the direction Freya had gone. He pulled out his phone and tapped out two texts. If they made it out of the hotel they’d need wheels and to clear out fast.

The hall curved with the building. Nothing was a straight shot in this place. He reached the soda and snack machines, the icemaker humming along. Ahead of him Freya stared down a man wearing a suit jacket and ear piece.

Jaxon stepped into the alcove and waited.

Best case scenario, she was simply turned back.

Worst case scenario, she was escorted to her room.

Freya made an exasperated noise he heard over the ice machine. He chuckled and stared into the vending machine, as though he were contemplating the tools of his demise.

A few moments later Freya rounded the corner, hands on her hips.

“What?” she said.

“How you doing, 007?”

Freya stared at the floor and hunched her shoulders.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she said quietly.

“Have you ever snuck out before?” he asked.

“...no.”

“First rule of not getting caught, don’t go out the main exits. Pretend those do not exist. Find a creative way out.”

“And you have?”

“I did.” Jaxon pulled a key card from his pocket. He felt only a little bad about picking it up off the ground when one of the cleaning crew had dropped it.

“Oh.” Freya blinked.

“Shall we?” He backed through the swinging double doors leading to the staff only area, holding one for her to duck through.

The service elevator was small, likely just for the kitchen and housekeeping.

He swiped the card, granting them entrance.

“Is that really going to work?” She eyed his hat.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Is this smart?”

“Probably not.”

“Should we go back upstairs?”

“Do you want to?” He’d prefer to keep her bundled up safe and sound. He truly would. But they were both missing someone they loved now, and that meant a new perspective on things.

“No,” Freya said without hesitation.

“Okay, then, follow my lead.”

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the first floor.

He held up his hand and stepped out.

A man in a blue windbreaker was a couple dozen feet away at the coffee bar.

“Come on. Now,” Jaxon whispered.

Freya hustled out and he draped his arm around her shoulders

“Don’t run. Walk. Head for that door ahead. Stick with me. If we get separated, look for a silver Audi that has a cat sticker on the back bumper, got it?”

“Who is in the Audi?” Freya peered up at him.

“My friend Zach. You might have met him. He likes cats. The freaky, hairless ones.”

“Janelle Thorburn?” a man said behind them.

“Don’t look,” Jaxon whispered.

“We should run,” she whispered back.

“Janelle Freya Thorburn—stop,” the same voice boomed behind them.

“Nice and easy.” Jaxon willed his nerves to stop dancing.

Feet thundered on the marble behind them.

Screw it.

“Run,” Jaxon said.

Freya bolted ahead of him. Jaxon hung a stride behind, keeping between her and the person following.

She hit the door, flinging it open and stopping for a scant second. Jaxon nearly ran into her, but she bolted right. He followed, piling into Zach’s cat stickered car.

“Go,” Jaxon roared.

Zach peeled out before the back door had completely shut.

Freya turned to peer behind them, but Jaxon grabbed her and pulled her down.

“Anyone see us?” he asked.

“Probably.” Zach kept his eyes forward. “Cops are all over the pub, and now we can’t go to my place. Suggestions?”

Jaxon glanced at Freya. Ian would have been his first call, but given that the man had been shot and Taylor was knocked up, they couldn’t go there. Ryan and Vito were out of town.

“Owen’s place. They’ll never look for us there.”

“What?” Zach scowled into the rearview.

“Seriously, the feds won’t look for us with a cop.”

“Who is Owen?” Freya asked.

“Someone you haven’t met yet. He’s a good guy.” Jaxon buckled in.

“How far are we taking this?” Zach eased to a stop at a light and twisted to face them.

“Um...” Freya glanced at Zach then Jaxon.

“All the way.” He grimaced. “We get somewhere, we lay low, we have Freya tell Yuri he’s been burned. Make him think she’s doing this solo. He has to move, get safe and contact us. We handle this our way.”

“You do realize everyone is going to want a piece of this action, don’t you? He hurt Aunt Liv.”

Yeah, Jaxon knew. He’d seen the picture. But the others would have to take a number. Jaxon was getting there first.

Yuri paced from the back of the bungalow to the front.

The rain had finally stopped. The street seemed to glitter under the lights from all the water.

He had to be patient. That was the worst of this. He hadn’t operated on a deal by deal basis in a long time. He’d forgotten how painful the waiting process could be, because he always had something else to work on, another thing vying for his attention.

His phone buzzed again.

He peered at the subject of the new message.

Freya offering up the knowledge that her email was being monitored was unexpected. It just went to prove that Liv, the bitch traitor, was more valuable than he’d guessed.

He clicked on the message.

A new email address, generic, nothing fancy.

Let her stew.

He needed to figure out a place, somewhere without eyes on them that would be easy to get out of the city. While he’d told Freya to not tell anyone, that this would be between the two of them, he expected her to try to pull something. He didn’t know who her friends were, but they’d proven troublesome already. He shouldn’t underestimate them again.

And that meant he needed a few thugs for hire. Disposable people. That would take time and money, the second of which he had for now. The bungalow wasn’t the best cache, but it was secure.

Something thumped in the bedroom.

Yuri muttered under his breath and stalked down the hall, pocketing his phone.

This damn woman was more trouble than she was worth.

He shoved the bedroom door open.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He’d placed the woman on the bed and secured her hands to the metal bed frame. She’d rolled her body off the bed and had her arms stretched up over her head. The gag was partially out of her mouth.

Yuri took a few steps.

Liv lashed out with a booted foot, her heel catching him in the thigh.

He hissed and jumped back.

She was one of those.

Of course, Shelby and Freya’s friend would be a livewire. Neither of the other two bitches had been docile.

He bent forward and grabbed Liv by the ankles.

“I was being nice.”

He hauled her, feet first, back up onto the bed. She pulled and jerked on his hold, but he had more practice keeping a person bound than she likely had experience getting away.

The one problematic moment would be in shackling her legs.

He braced his left hand over her shins, just above her ankles, and pressed down with all his strength. She shifted, trying her best to get free, but he had her.

Yuri made a grab for the cuffs on the foot of the bed, snatching one. He slapped the cuff around her left ankle and breathed a sigh of relief.

Liv jerked her right leg back.

Shit.

Yuri couldn’t move fast enough.

She kicked him square in the face, her other leg jerking on the chain holding her prisoner.

“Fucking bitch, that hurt.” He pressed his hand to his throbbing nose.

Liv sucked down a deep breath, the kind she shouldn’t be able to with a gag in her mouth.

Oh, boy...

She screamed, the sound reverberating through the house, splitting his ear drums.

Yuri lunged for her other ankle, yelling right along with her as he got her properly restrained.

He didn’t enjoy this. It wasn’t fun for him. This was business, and it was often messy.

“Yell some more for me, Liv. Just keep on yelling.” He got down right in her face, hands braced on the mattress either side of her head. “This house is soundproof. The only person hearing you is me. And now you’ve just pissed me off.”

Liv lurched up, slamming her head against his, and screamed again.

He grabbed the gag and yanked it back up, muting her screams.

“Keep that up, and I’ll slice you, just like I did that bitch, Michelle.” He grinned.

Liv went still, eyes wide.

“Be very careful, Liv. I might forget you’re worth something alive.”

Yuri dragged his finger along her throat.