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“NO! You can’t go in there. It’s wired to explode.” I pulled away and moved closer to the men on the stairs. “Please don’t go in there.”

“What happened?”

“I was a trap. You were all expected to come get me and when you walked into the room I was in, there was a trip wire.”

“How did you get out?”

“It’s a long story that I really only want to tell once.” I grabbed Sal’s arm and stared at him, hoping he would understand what I wasn’t saying. He looked around at his men, then back at me. A lift of his eyebrow had me nodding.

“Fuck,” he cursed.

“I need to talk to Duncan.” The sound of his voice would help to settle my nerves.

“Yea, let’s get in the car. Liam, call this in. We can’t leave this place like it is. Someone could stumble upon it.” Sal led me to the waiting car with a hand on back. “Come on, Freyja.”

I didn’t know who to trust other than Duncan and Sal. So I stayed quiet on the way back to the office.

“Once Duncan gets back, you can tell us what happened. There will only be four of us in the room other than you.”

“No, only you and Duncan. I don’t know who else can be trusted.”

“Good thing I do,” Sal said. “Let’s call Duncan so he knows you’re ok.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Duncan

This woman let herself be kidnapped because a dead actress told her to in a fucking dream. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping to ward off the headache that was coming on.

“Freyja,” her brother growled. “Fucking Lucille almost got you killed. Enough!”

“Don’t!” She stood from the couch and marched her angry ass over to her brother. Poking him in the chest, she said, “Go home! All of you. Athena should not have called you.”

“Freyja, you knew she would call, and you knew we would come,” another man said, pulling her into his arms.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off her,” I snarled, pulling Freyja back to me. I slipped in front of her and glared at the four men who invaded my office.

“Freyja!”

A younger woman who looked similar to Freyja and Athena rushed in, followed by a woman about my age. And if Freyja looked anything like her mother when she was older, I was a lucky son of a bitch.

“Darling, are you ok?” her mother asked.

“I’m fine. I was never in any danger; Lucille told me exactly what would happen.”

“Who the fuck is Lucille?” Sal asked, and I groaned as Freyja answered.

“Lucille Ball. She speaks to me in my dreams.”

Sal stared at Freyja, not sure if he should ask, but when he shook his head, I knew he was gonna do it, anyway. “I Love Lucy, Lucille Ball? Isn’t she dead?”

The four bikers groaned. Freyja’s parents and her sister smiled as Phoebe confirmed what Freyja said.

“That would be her.”

“Mo bandia, please sit with me. Tell me what happened.” I pulled her to the couch and set her back on my lap.

“Woody,” Stevie swooned, “he calls hermy goddess.”