Broken by the Biker
Page 7
A small expression bent his lips, but she wouldn’t have called it a smile. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He opened it up, and she saw a color copy of one of the pages from the logbooks that Mason had brought her back when this mess began. A name was circled, again and again, on the page.
She hadn’t circled it. She’d known that Mason was going to need to have these books back, untouched, like they’d never left the garage, so she’d kept separate notes. But looking at the books brought back all the memories.
The feel of her hands, tightly bound against the chair behind her. The whisper of Mason’s voice in her ear, the feeling of his fingers brushing against her hand as he tried to pass her a message, a message that she hadn’t understood at all. The top of her head was too light—she was going to float away, fly away, vanish, disappear. She couldn’t breathe.
And the detective was still watching her with that cold expression, that soft, fake, predatory smile. Breathing was not a thing that she could do. Stars danced in her vision, and she wondered what would happen to her if she fainted, if she passed out right now.
“Tell me,” he said, and his voice came from far away, echoing through the tunnel as she fell. “Who is Anna Bressette?”
“She was my sister.” Mason’s voice was so cold and clear that it felt like a dream, but she grabbed hold of it, used it as a line to pull her back to reality from the nightmare where she was drowning. “Baby, is everything okay here?”
Caroline looked to the office door, where Mason had entered quietly without being noticed until he spoke. “Detective Randall had some questions. About—a missing person, I guess?” Fuck, she’d nearly said Declan’s name. That would have been convenient, wouldn’t it? Fuck.
Mason stood at his full height, broadening his shoulders, crossing his arms, and planting his feet. Moments like this, she knew damn well that he’d been in the military for a long time, and that he wouldn’t ever really be out. “If you have questions, Detective, I suspect that they’re really for me.”
Randall stood, matching Mason’s stance with one just as balanced, just as casually aware of the violence that could break free at any moment. “Mr. Butler, I would love for us to talk. But somehow, for an outlaw, you’re shockingly well-connected within the legal system.”
Mason stayed silent, watching Randall, but Caroline could see his pale knuckles whitening further, and she was sure Randall could as well. She breathed in a prayer that Mason wasn’t stubborn or stupid enough to punch a cop.
Randall watched the other man for a moment, then shrugged, his lizard eyes flashing as he put his sunglasses back on. Caro had a sense that he wasn’t yielding so much as walking away, and she had a definite sense that it wasn’t the end of this. “Thanks for talking with me, Caroline. I’ll be back later, so we can finish our conversation.” He gestured towards the piece of paper on her desk. “Keep that. Think about what it might mean.”
He walked out, and she at last gave in to the shaking in her knees, putting her head in her hands and trying to breathe. Somewhere far away, she heard Mason turn the lock on the door and flip the sign over to closed. He came close, but he didn’t touch her, not right away.
“Please,” she said. He’d wait there for permission forever if she needed him to, because once he’d moved too fast and she’d screamed like she was being murdered. But now—she needed the grounding, the purifying motion of his hand spinning tiny circles over the muscles in the small of her back.
“Breathe, baby,” he said. “We’re gonna be okay. That dirtbag cop doesn’t know anything. He’s just sniffing around hoping someone left a lead where he can dig it up.”
She looked up at him, tried to find a way to ask how sure he really was, and decided to let it go. Asking would only make things worse. And that was something that she couldn’t afford to do. “Okay,” she said, reminding herself to focus on the now, on her breathing, and on the man she knew loved her.
It was a lot harder than it should have been.
The story continues in Book 3 of the Fallen Angels MC trilogy, OWNED BY THE BIKER, available now at all major online retailers!
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Did you love Broken by the Biker: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance? Then you should read Owned by the Biker: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance by Evelyn Glass!
Owned by the Biker is book 3 and the finale of the Fallen Angels MC trilogy!
NOBODY IS TAKING HER AWAY FROM ME
She was supposed to help me find the traitors in my club, not get caught up in my war.
She thinks I’m just another biker she shouldn’t trust—a monster and a brute.
But I’m the only one who can keep her safe.
Even if I have to tie her to my bed and never let her go.
She was good with numbers, and I needed someone to help me find the traitors in my club.
I was supposed to keep my hands off her.
But when I saw her, I knew that I had to have a taste.
One taste and I couldn’t get enough.
One taste and I needed her screaming my name.
She was supposed to stay out of my war.
But that was before the traitors came after her, and dragged her into it.
Now, I’m the only one who can keep her safe.
I don’t care if she thinks I’m a monster and a brute.
She’s mine, and nobody is going to take her from me.
Even if I have to pin her curves beneath me
Lash her to the bed, and never let her go.
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