Hot Pursuit

FREYA

~Unbelievable.~

I tossed the phone onto my bed in disgust. Mason’s problem was getting steadily worse, and it was starting to scare me. He was becoming so much like ~him.~

~Like Dad.~

I knew I was clinging to the brief moments, like the night of Darla’s wedding, when Mason actually acted like my big brother—but those instances were becoming few and far between.

I hastily threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie—definitely ~not~ a Ryan-approved outfit.

My phone lit up as John sent me his address—just off the 1 train on the Upper West Side.

When I emerged from Liam’s building onto the street, the usual crowd of paparazzi were waiting, but it was much smaller since he’d left on his tour.

It then dawned on me that those cameras were all for me.

I kept my head down as I walked past, except, something wholly unusual made me stop in my tracks.

At the back of the crowd, I spotted the same man in the blue baseball cap—the one that appeared to be following me weeks before.

Maybe he was just another photographer all along, looking for the best photo op.

But when I studied him more closely, chills shot throughout my body.

~If he’s a photographer, why doesn’t he have a camera?~

Though I could hardly make out his face, I still felt the penetrating gaze beneath the hat, which was fixed directly on me.

But I didn’t have time to give him a second thought. Mason needed me.

I pushed past the crowd and dug into my wallet, discovering I barely had enough cab fare to make it across town.

~Train it is.~

Wading through the rush of New Yorkers and packs of obnoxious tourists, I headed in the direction of the nearest subway entrance, which was just a few blocks down.

As I prepared to cross the street, I glanced over my shoulder to check for oncoming cars.

And that’s when I saw him again.

~Oh, God.~

The man in the blue hat, perhaps half a block behind me.

He was following me.

I snapped my head forward, not daring to look again.

Heart pounding, I crossed the street, subconsciously quickening my pace.

I could see the subway entrance now, just a half block ahead.

~So close.~

Though I tried to resist, to stop him from getting into my head, I couldn’t help but look again.

~Shit.~

He was gaining on me, the blue hat pulled low over his face. He was broad-shouldered and quite tall, which did little to ease my paranoia.

My legs churned, and I found myself cutting through the other pedestrians.

I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my hair.

~Maybe if he loses sight of the red hair…~

When I glanced back again, the man in the blue hat was even closer—perhaps ten yards from me.

With his head down, the man practically swatted a group of tourists out of his way. His head swept from left to right, as if he was searching the crowd for someone.

~Did I actually lose him?~

Then the brim of his hat seemed to pause, resting on something.

Pointing directly at me.

I took off, sprinting down the remaining block as my pulse threatened to explode.

As I reached the final block, dashing across the intersection just as the walk sign turned orange, I could hear his footsteps pounding against the pavement.

Ringing in my ears.

Suddenly, as if my hands had a mind of their own, my fingers slid into my hoodie pocket and retrieved my battered cell phone.

I located Liam’s contact from my recent calls and dialed, practically tripping over my own feet.

~Come on, Liam.~

~Answer.~

~I need you.~

After four miserable rings, the opposite line clicked on, and my heart leapt.

“Freya?” Liam’s voice was pleasantly surprised. “Miss me already?”

“Liam!” I rounded the subway entrance, my feet flying down the stairs.

“Frey, what’s going on? You sound—”

And then I was being jerked backward as a massive hand grasped hold of my arm.

I watched in horror as my phone fell from my hand and clattered against the pavement, bounced down the steps, and skidded across the landing.

My entire body rebounded, and I spun around to face my attacker.

“Hello, sweetheart,” said the man, grinning, mere inches from my face. His suntanned skin looked armor-like, making his age impossible to discern.

The dark-brown eyes, which matched the head of hair tucked beneath his baseball cap, gripped my own with such intensity that I found it impossible to look away.

I gulped.

The man before me, whose firm grip was cutting off my circulation, could break me like a twig.

~I’m dead.~

Frozen in place, I waited for what was to come next. For him to drag me away, or to murder me here, in front of hundreds of strangers.

In front of…

A sudden flash had the man blinking, startled.

Then several more.

“Freya! Freya Coleman!” their voices cried out to me.

My stalker’s eyes widened, and I felt his grip loosen from my arm.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I yanked myself free and took a step backward.

Only there ~wasn’t~ a step.

My foot sank like a weight through the empty air, and then I was falling backwards.

Down, down.

My panicked eyes watched the blue hat disappear.

Down, down.

I stared miserably into the ravenous lenses, which flashed, one after the other, devouring me.

I felt my head collide against something hard.

And then everything went black.

LIAM

“Freya!” I roared into the phone, hearing nothing but ambient tone—the muffled sound of street traffic and disembodied voices.

“Freya!”

I paced the hotel room anxiously, my free fist balled up.

Luce glanced up from the itinerary on her phone to shoot me a nervous look.

We’d just been about to leave for a sound check when I got the call from Freya.

I couldn’t get her voice out of my head. She sounded so terrified.

“Frey, please. Come on. I’m here,” I pleaded, fairly certain that she was no longer on the opposite end of the phone.

The thought made me coil in anxiety.

Some sort of muted commotion played out across the other end. I could hear voices in some sort of an argument and the sound of shouting.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

“Hello, is someone there?” came a woman’s voice on the opposite end.

“Hello! Yes! Who is this? Where is Freya?” I stumbled over my words, barely able to think straight.

“This girl—Freya? She fell down the steps going into the subway,” the woman replied.

“Is—is she alright?” I demanded, feeling my throat going dry.

“She hit her head pretty hard. I think she might have a concussion. I’ve called an ambulance,” the woman replied.

“Oh, thank you,” I said, trying to rein in my panic. “Can I talk to her? I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s still passed out.”

“~Passed out?~” I practically choked. “Oh, God. I—what do we…”

With each breath I took, my head grew lighter and lighter.

The only thing grounding me was the surge of my pulse, which hammered savagely in my veins.

The feeling of uselessness, knowing that Freya was currently being hospitalized while I was an ocean away, was unbearable.

~I should have just brought her with me.~

~This is my fault.~

FREYA

Everything was hazy.

My reluctant eyelids fluttered open, immediately squinting under harsh fluorescent light.

A rhythmic ~beeping~ filled my ears, which were slightly ringing, and I grimaced.

I struggled to sit up, feeling a pressure in my arm, which produced a pulling sensation every time I tried to move.

~Where am I?~

Blinking a few times, my surroundings came into focus.

I was in a private hospital room, which seemed rather high-end, with a sleeping figure drooped in the chair beside me.

As I stirred, he straightened and took hold of my hand.

“Freya. Thank—thank God.”

“Mason?” I murmured. “What are you doing here?”

My head craned to get a glimpse of the room again, searching for…

~He’s not here. He’s somewhere in Europe…~

“Oh, God, Freya. They—they called me and said you hit your head. And it’s my fault. It is.” His bloodshot eyes welled with tears.

I recoiled, smelling the alcohol on him.

“I hit my head,” I murmured, trying to recall the events leading up to this.

~Someone was with me. Someone was…~

I practically choked.

~It was him. The man in the blue hat.~

“Freya? Are you alright?” Mason asked, leaning in closer. “They said you have a concussion and you might be a little confused.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I told Mason.

“You were coming to get me—John said that he texted you—I’m so sorry, Freya,” he replied, slurring his words slightly.

~He’s still drunk.~

“Mason,” I croaked, desperately dehydrated. “Go home. Sleep it off.”

“But, Freya—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to see you until you’re sober.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Seeing him like this.

“But I told Dad I’d stay with you…”

I nearly choked. “You WHAT?”

Mason dropped his eyes, as if bracing himself for the storm that was brewing inside of me.

“I’ve—we’ve been…talking,” he murmured.

“Talking?!” I demanded, hearing the EKG spiking.

“He wants to talk to you, Freya. He’s different now. Sober—”

If I wasn’t still light-headed, I would have slapped him.

“Get out,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Freya, please—”

“Now.”

Closing my eyes, I listened to the sound the chair scraping the floor beside me and his footsteps fading away.

I couldn’t believe Mason would betray me like that, after what my father had done…

~He~ had been the one who told ~me~ to sever contact.

It was bringing back all of the painful memories I’d tried to suppress.

I couldn’t think straight.

There was nothing I wanted to do more than to call Liam. To vent about Mason, my dad, and the man who’d tried to kidnap me, or ~whatever~ that was…but I couldn’t.

I shouldn’t.

I knew how important this tour was to him. And I would only be a distraction.

~When it’s over~, I decided. ~When he comes back to me, I’ll tell him.~

Until then, it looked like I was on my own.

***

“I’m leaving,” I announced the following morning when the nurse returned to check my vitals. They’d kept me locked up for an entire day for a concussion.

There was no way in ~hell~ I could afford the medical bills I would already have, let alone a longer stay in the hospital.

~Oh, God…they brought me here in an ambulance. That’s gonna be a few thousand dollars.~

Mary, my nurse, laughed wholeheartedly, as if she thought I was joking, and pulled a pen from her graying blonde hair to write something down on my charts.

“All in good time, sweetheart,” she chuckled.

~They can’t force me to stay, can they?~

Testing this theory, I ripped the IV tube from my arm, wincing, and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“What—what are you doing?” Nurse Mary rushed to my side, taking hold of my fluid drip and trying to force it back into my arm.

“Leaving,” I insisted. I stood up on shaky legs and took several steps forward. “I can’t afford this.”

“But—but—it’s already been paid for,” Nurse Mary protested, rushing after me.

~Already been paid for?~

~Surely Mason wouldn’t…~

“By who?” I demanded.

Before Mary could say another word, the door flew open and tired-looking Liam rushed into the room.

“Liam!?” I blurted out, bewildered yet utterly relieved to see him.

Liam rushed to my side, taking my face into his hands.

I could feel his entire body shaking and watched as the cool relief washed over him.

“Frey, you’re alright,” he said, letting out a long sigh. “I was so worried. I—”

“How are you here right now? You’re supposed to be in Europe.”

His arms moved to wrap around my body, cradling me gently as if he was afraid he might break me. My head slipped into its favorite spot in the crook of his neck.

“I flew back the second I heard what happened. I—I had to see you,” he murmured.

~I can’t believe he’s here.~

~I can’t believe he’s blowing off the—~

I pulled back from his embrace, my eyes searching his inquisitively.

“What about your tour?” I asked.

Liam shook his head. “Fuck the tour.”