Call My Name (Fallen Angels MC Book 3) by Laura Day Read Free Book Online

“unlived in” feel the last few times she’d been there. She needed to get it cleaned and staged if she was going to approach a realtor about it. She could start that now. She could take a leave of absence from work, get her shit together, and then see where she was when the cards flipped over.
     
    With the folder out of her hands, and a plan for the next few weeks at least, she straightened her back and walked toward her parked car.
     
    ***
     
    Afterwards, she hated herself. Because as she pulled up to the house, she thought that something seemed different. She couldn’t put a finger on it, but her guts were screaming at her to run. And she didn’t. She parked in the garage, like she had a thousand times after work, and walked in the door, telling her guts that they were overreacting, and to stop being such wusses.
     
    She didn’t pay attention to how the house didn’t have the deathly silence of a place that is completely empty, and that the air was fresher than it should have been if no one had opened a door or a window in a week, or that the papers on the kitchen counter—still left there from when Mason had brought them to her, still lying where Declan had strewn them as he screamed at her, tied to a chair in her own kitchen—had been neatened, piled in careful stacks.
     
    By the time her brain managed to notice all of those little things that her guts had been trying to tell her since she’d pulled up to the garage, by the time her brain gave her feet the command to run and she tried to listen, it was far too late. He came out of the shadows, his hand going over her mouth, an arm wrapping around her waist. She kicked at him, but his legs were spread wide; she tried to bite at his hand, but his hand was cupped, and she couldn’t get any flesh between her teeth. He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him over the muffled sound of her own scream.
     
    She bucked against him, finding her feet in the air as he kept his grip on her; she was close enough to the counter to get some purchase, and she planted her feet and pushed back as hard as she could. He hadn’t expected her to have that much coordination; he kept from going over, but it was a near thing, and he had to let go of her to keep his balance as he stumbled back, crashing into the wall. The same place Gloria had hit. She hoped he broke a rib, too, the stupid fuck.
     
    She was too off balance to keep her feet, but she didn’t waste time; she hauled herself up and bolted for the garage door; he got there first and blocked her, so she spun and headed for the living room and the front door. He caught her wrist, grabbed her, and turned her against the wall, his hand over her mouth again.
     
    It was the cop; of course it was the cop. Detective Mike Randall. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, but the screams tapered off, somehow. Her throat was too tight, too afraid.
     
    “You dumb bitch,” he said, his tone more irritated than actually angry. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”
     
    “You can’t just come into someone’s house,” she said, trying to gather herself together. Could she get her hand into her pocket, dial 911 without him seeing? Stupid smartphones, she could have pulled it off with an old school flip phone. “You need a warrant. Do you have a warrant, Detective?”
     
    He shrugged. “We got a call that someone heard screams. Welfare check. Simple as that.” He grinned, and in a moment, he went from lizardly and evil to boyish and charming. Even though she’d seen those cold eyes and what lay beneath them, she felt something in her relaxing at the warmth in them now. Her guts twisted into a knot, thinking about what he could accomplish if he was able to turn that on and off so easily. “I just want to talk to you without your lug of a boyfriend around. Is that so difficult? I could drag you down to the station, if you’d prefer.”
     
    She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think you can,