His to Take by Shayla Black Read Free Book Online Page B

tooth?
Anything?
”
    Not anything real. “Do you?”
    “I don’t have a nut job or two hunting me, so what I remember is irrelevant.”
    “How do you know this isn’t the work of some serial killer?”
    “Whoever this handiwork belongs to, I’ll bet he trained once with the CIA or some
     other government agency. He knows what he’s doing, but he leaves telltale marks. Same
     guy, same M.O. And he always tears apart the vic’s residence, as if he’s looking for
     something. That’s not common behavior for a serial killer. So let’s get back to your
     earliest memory. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
    His questioning made Bailey feel as if he was trying to lead her to a specific answer.
     In the interest of saving time and frustration, she cut to the chase. “What is it
     I’m supposed to remember?”
    He peered at her, those hazel-green eyes studying her, as if trying to pry her brain
     open and see all the thoughts inside. “Let’s try this on for size. Do you have any
     memory of a really cold day in the middle of farmland? Of walking the side of the
     road in the snow, covered in blood? Of being spotted by a couple in a blue sedan driving
     down the road?”
    Bailey’s heart stopped. He’d described a snippet of her dreams, but . . . they were
     just a product of her imagination. Her mother had assured her of that over and over.
     Her father had been adamant about it, in fact. She’d stopped mentioning the dreams
     to anyone years ago.
    So how did this stranger know?
    “What is it? You went pale. You’re remembering an event?”
    She shook her head automatically. It had to be a coincidence. A good guess. Something
     that made sense. This didn’t.
    “Yeah, you’re remembering. Try to focus. Jesus, I’ve been looking for you.” He leaned
     closer again, his face anxious. “Keep going. What next?”
    In her dream, nothing. She never made it past the sedan and the couple stopping for
     her. “This can’t be . . . It’s just a dream I’ve had a time or two.” More like a thousand
     times or two.
    “What if it’s not a dream, but a memory?”
    “No. Then I would remember it. It doesn’t snow in Houston. I’ve never been to a farm
     like that. I’ve never seen that couple in my life.”
    “Really think about it. If it’s a dream, and you’ve remembered it even after you woke,
     it had an impact on you. A big one. There’s a reason for that.”
    He leaned in even more, and his male scent curled in her nose again. Bailey wished
     she could say that he came across as creepy or stalkerish. But no, he just looked
     hot. Older than her, yes, maybe by eight or ten years, but when she looked at him,
     she realized that all the guys she’d been dating and eyeing were boys. This one? He
     was a
man
.
    That sounded all kinds of stupid and wrong, but seriously . . . He had a rugged appeal
     that was impossible not to notice.
    Bailey frowned. How long did it take for a girl to fall in lust with her captor? Should
     she be checking her sanity, her IQ, or both?
    “Do you remember anything in the dream before the couple in the car? Before you left
     those red footprints in the snow?”
    She frowned. “How do you know there’s anything in the dream before that?”
    “Because I know the history of this event. I know what really happened before that
     little girl fled that house and walked down the side of the road in shock until Good
     Samaritans found her and took her to the local sheriff. Tell me what’s in your dream.
     We’ll see if they match up.”
    And give him anything that he could use to claim that he was right? That she was this
     missing girl? “Why don’t you tell me what you think happened?”
    “The murder of four people. Here.” He turned away and grabbed a file she hadn’t noticed
     sitting on a nearby dresser. He thumbed through some of the contents until he came
     to what he wanted. Photos. He took a few in hand and prowled back in her direction.