Page 20 of Colt

Every time I tried to picture Lucy, an image of Freya popped into my head, and my heart would swell with emotion.

I was losing my goddamned mind.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I took a steadying breath before standing to grab my wallet and keys.

It was time to get a fuckin’ grip. I had coffee to fetch.

One hour later, I rocked up to Freya’s apartment block, Starbucks coffee in hand.

Luckily, a woman appeared at the entrance trying to navigate a stroller, so I didn’t have to go through the indignity of begging Freya to let me up through the speaker system on the wall.

I grabbed the door, holding it open for the woman with my best ‘I’m trustworthy’ smile. “Morning, Ma’am,” I said brightly with a polite nod.

“Thanks.” She looked up at me suspiciously. “Are you visiting?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m here at the invite of Freya on the first floor. I’m a friend of the family.”

She looked relieved. “Oh, yeah. I know Freya. Tell her Rachel said hi.”

I politely inclined my head and slipped inside. Then, after securing the door, I climbed the stairs to the first floor.

Freya and I hadn’t left things on a good note, but I reckoned she’d be sweet if I gave her Starbucks. My princess loved her coffee.

I reached the top step, headed toward Freya’s door, and pressed my finger to her buzzer. Ten seconds passed, and nothing. “Freya!” I called, pushing the buzzer again.

Two voices whisper-shouted from inside. I recognized Freya’s voice, but the other one wasn’t only unfamiliar, it was male.

My skin grew hot. I clenched my jaw so tight it ached. “Freya!” I bellowed. “You better get your ass out here before I kick the fuckin’ door down.”

“Go away, Colt,” she called through the door. “I’m busy.”

A bolt of fury flashed through my chest. I dumped the coffee holder on the floor, pulled a leg back, and kicked her door so hard it rattled on its hinges.

Freya shrieked.

I kicked the door again before whacking it with my palm. “Open the door. Now!”

“Fuck off!” she called out.

My nostrils flared, and I began to boot the door repeatedly until it flew open.

It was bad enough that Freya stood in the hallway wearing a short, pink, silky robe. But what really made me rage was the asshole Jersey Shore clone who stood behind her.

My stare skimmed down her body, hands clenching when I saw her hard little nipples poking through the thin material. Her shiny hair fell in disarray as if she’d just been thoroughly fucked.

With a snarl, I stormed inside, grabbed the asshole's collar, and pulled him out to the hallway. “What the fuck are you playing at?” I demanded, getting in his face.

The asshole squared up to me. “You’re a fucking lunatic. Freya told you to leave, sofuck off!”

I grabbed him by the collar. “Did you touch her?”

His lip curled. “Are you for goddamned real? I’m her mechanic. I’m here for her car keys.”

My head whipped toward Freya. “Are you sick?” I demanded, eyes dropping to her robe.

“No,” she said, tone full of disdain. “I went down to start my car, but it was dead. I went under the hood to look for loose wires and got covered in grease. I called Christian to get a tow, and then hopped in the shower to clean up before arrived.”

“I was on my way back from a job,” he muttered. “It only took me five minutes to get here.”

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