Frey (5 page)

Chapter Four

Abbi couldn’t think. She had been around a
lot of men in her life, mostly fathers of her students. She had
even visited the precinct where Troy worked a few times. Never in
her twenty-seven years had she ever come across someone as
arresting as Geoffrey Hartley. If he was going to be Matt’s
teacher, she was almost afraid for her brother. This man had to be
at least six and a half feet tall. His shoulders were so broad, she
didn’t know how he found clothes to fit. He would break Matt like a
twig. She was reading over the paperwork Matt had already filled
out while watching Frey out of the corner of her eye. God, he
smelled so good, like an afternoon rain shower and man.

“
Is everything all right?”
he asked her. Crap, had he caught her ogling him? What was she
doing anyway? She was a married woman. Still, just because she was
tied down didn’t mean she was dead. Anyone would have to be six
feet under, toes up, to not take notice of the powerful male that
was Geoffrey Hartley.

“
I’m fine,” she whimpered
as she scribbled her name on the designated line. She held the
clipboard out and when he reached for it, his hand covered hers. As
soon as their skin touched, Geoffrey inhaled deeply, closing his
eyes. Did he not know she was married, or did he touch all women
that way? She would hate to be the object of his affection. Troy
wasn’t a small man, and in the bedroom he scared her. She couldn’t
imagine being underneath a man as large as Frey. She stood quickly,
hoping to break the connection. The man’s nostrils flared as his
eyes popped open.

Instead of releasing her, he reached out
with his other hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His
fingers lingered as he whispered, “Beautiful.” She searched his
eyes to see if he was just messing with her. She knew her
appearance was less than stellar. Maybe when she was a teenager and
dancing, she had been pretty. Now she was a mess. Troy insisted she
dress like her dead grandmother so no other man would think twice
about how she looked under the baggy clothes. She wasn’t allowed to
wear much makeup or fix her hair. She was lucky she had naturally
wavy hair, or it would never look decent. The one time she’d gone
to the salon and had lowlights put in, he’d gone to the store and
bought a box of color and made her change it back that night.

The dark brown eyes staring intently into
hers showed nothing but truth. Even a frumpy mess, this man thought
she was beautiful. No, no he didn’t. He just wanted in her pants.
Sighing, she pushed the clipboard into Geoffrey’s hand and backed
up. “If that’s all, I need to get to school. It’s my turn for bus
duty.” Not that he cared about that.

“
I take it you’re a
teacher?” Frey placed the clipboard on the counter and crossed his
arms over his chest. His biceps bulged. Why did the man have to be
so enticing? She hoped Matt never needed her to come to this place
again. The temptation was too strong.
Stop
it Abbi. He isn’t interested in you. Well, maybe screwing your
brains out, but that’s what all men want. The only thing they
want.

“
Abbi?”

“
What?” He had asked her a
question.

“
I asked if you’re a
teacher.” He was frowning. God, was he mad at her? Oh
crap!

She backed up, putting some distance between
them in case he was mad. “Yes, I teach second grade at New
Atlanta.”

“
Abbi, please.” His hands
were out, palms up. “I would never hurt you.” He lowered his hands,
his fists opening and closing. He was pissed, but not at her. Did
he know? Had Matthew told him about Troy? “I am a
real
man. Real men do
not harm women. Not their bodies, not their faces, and definitely
not their hearts.” He shook his head and turned his back to her.
His shoulders were moving up and down as if he was having trouble
breathing.

“
Geoffrey, I…”

He turned suddenly and quicker than she
could imagine, he was right in front of her. He lifted her chin
gently. “I promise you, I will never lay a hand on you in anger. Do
you understand?”

Abbi could only nod. Geoffrey’s presence,
his body this close to hers, had her stomach fluttering and the
juncture between her legs coming to life. She barely remembered
being turned on in high school when the captain of the football
team kissed her behind the bleachers after a game. Not once since
then had she felt alive. Wanted. Frey’s nostrils flared again, and
as quickly as he’d come to stand before her, he was back a few feet
away.

“
I will take very good
care of Matt, I promise. I hope you have a good day at school.” He
offered her a smile as he dismissed her. If she never saw another
smile again in her life, that one right there would be enough to
die happily with. How could someone so large and intimidating have
the smile of an angel?

She smiled back. Truly smiled at him. She
didn’t have to force it the way she did with Troy. This man brought
out something in her, something she hadn’t known she was missing.
“Thank you. You have a good day at…whatever it is you do all day.”
She blushed and ducked her head. As she rushed out the front door,
she heard the deep laughter of a man who was happy.

Abbi arrived at the school
and parked in her regular spot. Her thoughts were on
Geoffrey.
I’ll call you Abbi if you call
me Frey.
“Frey…Frey…Geoffrey” She
whispered his name out loud, testing it on her tongue. Pounding on
her window caused her to jump.

Troy was standing there, hands on his hips,
a scowl on his face. “Get out of the car, Abigail.”

Abbi took a mental stock of her appearance.
She had snuck out of the house while Troy was in the shower,
knowing it was the only way she could leave early. Her clothes were
the normal baggy ones she dressed in for school. She had on the
barest amount of makeup she could get away with. Her hair was just
her hair, except Frey had pushed it behind her ear. She
absentmindedly touched the spot where his fingers had lingered.
“Abigail!” Troy’s impatient voice reminded her where she was. Abbi
grabbed her purse and briefcase before opening the door. Usually
Troy didn’t cause a scene in public. He wanted the good people at
her school to believe he was a fine, upstanding officer of the
law.

“
Where the fuck did you
run off to? And don’t lie to me, Abigail. You know you can’t lie to
me. I have eyes on you.” Troy was in her face, voice low so nobody
could hear their conversation.

“
I had to sign a
permission slip for Matt.” Abbi shifted her purse strap higher on
her shoulder, keeping her eyes on his. She found out a long time
ago looking Troy in the eyes was better than looking away. At least
if she was looking at his face, she could see him getting ready to
hit her.

“
Next time, you tell me
when you leave and where you’re going. Do you understand me?
Sneaking out of the house looks really suspicious.”

“
I didn’t sneak out; I
left you a note on the kitchen table.” That was the truth. She knew
better than to just leave. “I have to get my stuff inside and get
to the bus lane. Have a good day at work.” Abbi stepped away from
Troy, but he grabbed her arm before she could go far. He moved his
grip to the back of her bicep, pinching hard. “Owww,” she hissed,
trying to pull away.

“
Where’s my kiss,
Abigail?” Troy yanked her roughly to him, slamming his mouth
against hers. There was no passion, no love in the kiss, only harsh
brutality. As soon as he released her, she hurried away. Other
teachers were arriving, and she took advantage of their presence to
ignore her husband.

Abbi spent the better part of the day
thinking about Frey Hartley. Why did she have to meet him now? In
the five years she had been married to Troy, not once had she
thought about cheating on him. Leaving him? Definitely. But never
cheating. She wasn’t perfect by any means, but she took her wedding
vows seriously, even if Troy didn’t. Abbi knew he cheated on her,
but that was on him. He had to live with his own conscience. If she
were honest with herself, she was glad Troy found other women to
have sex with. It kept him away from her. Even if she wanted to
have an affair, there’s no way she could get away with it. Troy
reminded her daily of the people he had watching her.

It was better for her if she just forgot
about Geoffrey Hartley. Thinking about him and the way he touched
her would only bring about feelings she couldn’t follow up on. She
had made her bed when she married Troy. Now she was lying in
it.

Troy sat in his cruiser outside the school.
Abigail shuffled the children off the buses into the building. She
smiled at every one of the kids, greeting them by name. Those
smiles were genuine, heartfelt. Abigail never looked at him that
way. He couldn’t remember the last time she had looked at him with
something other than fear. If she wasn’t so goddamn pretty, he
wouldn’t have to scare her. If she wasn’t so pretty, the other men
wouldn’t want her, but then again, neither would he. Troy was a
good-looking man. He knew it. All the women told him so. All the
women except one. Even in high school when they first started
dating, it was like he was her second choice. Her first choice
would have been that fuckhead on the football team. Troy took care
of him, though. Busted his pretty boy face up good. Fucker.

Troy had worried about going to different
colleges, but he convinced his buddy George to keep an eye on her.
Like the good girl she was, Abigail went to class, work, and back
home. If it wasn’t for her dipweed brother, she would more than
likely have lived in a dorm just to get away from her aunt. That
was the only time Troy had been grateful for Matthew. Abigail
didn’t move to campus because she was afraid of leaving Matthew
alone with Judy. Ah, Judy. If Abigail had known the truth about her
aunt, she never would have married Troy. It was a good thing his
charm worked as well as it did back then.

As soon as his wife had all the kids safely
inside the school, she left her post and headed in to begin her
day. He really didn’t know what she did in there. Didn’t care. All
he knew was staying in that schoolhouse for seven hours every day
kept her out of trouble. Away from the prying eyes of men who might
want her. There were a few men teachers, but they were either old
or faggots. Yep, his Abigail was safe as long as she was in the
school.

Troy walked into the precinct a few minutes
late. Normally he looked forward to going to work, but now they had
that new queer detective strutting around like a fucking peacock.
Speaking of Jenkins, he was headed toward the chief’s office. Troy
knocked into his shoulder as he walked past.

“
What the fuck, Quinn?”
Jasper asked, but Troy kept walking, giving him a middle finger.
What was the chief thinking, hiring a queer from out West? They
were in the South for Christ’s sake. The fairy needed to go back
where he came from and keep to his own kind, and he needed to take
the weirdo from the crime lab with him. What kind of professional
had fucking purple hair? The kind that attracted fairies like the
detective. He had taken up for the kid yesterday. Fucking faggots.
Troy would just have to find a way to make him want to go back
West.

Chapter Five

Instead of going back to the speed bag, Frey
re-taped his hand and hit the punching bag. If it wasn’t so early,
he would find one of the Clan to spar with. He needed to release
some adrenaline. The bag he was currently attacking had been
specially made for him. Too many times he or one of the Gargoyles
had taken to a bag and decimated it within minutes, forgetting
their strength. Frey could shred the bag if he tried, but that
would draw too much attention.

What he really needed was to meditate. If he
were at home, he would lose himself in the solitude of his woods or
his lake and sit quietly until his mind stilled. Since he was the
only one working the counter, he didn’t have that luxury. So, he
did the next best thing; he hit something. Mason was due any minute
to watch over the gym while Frey was gone to sword training. If he
were an older Gargoyle, Frey would tell him to glove up and they
would enjoy a little morning sparring. At fifteen, Mason was the
youngest Clan member. With his Gargoyle blood, he appeared as
though he was in his twenties. In just a few years, he would reach
maturity and look to be in his thirties. Frey noticed Mason looking
a little older every day. He needed to speak with Rafael about
that.

Speaking of the young Goyle, Mason walked
right by Frey without speaking. His young cousin was definitely
preoccupied. Frey punched, jabbed, and kicked the bag several more
minutes. He kept watch out of the corner of his eye for Mason to
come find him. When he didn’t, Frey went looking for him. Mason was
sitting at Frey’s desk, his chin against his chest. Frey leaned
against the door frame, removing the tape from his hands. When
Mason still didn’t look up, Frey cleared his throat. Mason raised
his head and leaned back in the large, leather chair. “What’s
wrong?” Frey asked as he took the seat across from the desk.