Call My Name (Fallen Angels MC Book 3) (5 page)

CHAPTER NINE

She needed a way to feel safe. A way to feel like she had a home base. That was the big problem right now. She was at loose ends, and every direction she turned in had a different challenge. She had to pick one and face it.

The easiest thing would be selling the house. The market hadn’t ever crashed here, not anywhere near as badly as it had in the rest of the country. It was an up-to-date little cottage, with a new roof and a great kitchen. She’d been approached by realtors about it before; selling it should be simple. She could afford to rent for a bit while she decided her next step. Stay here, stay with Mason, leave, start over somewhere else— All sorts of options. Hell, she could move near Emily and set up shop down there as an independent financial consultant. Work with the local small business association. She didn’t have to stay here.

She didn’t have to feel powerless.

The house looked like it had been through a whirlwind, though. She’d torn through it, first in her attempt to flee town, and then in her random trips to grab what she needed and get back out as soon as possible.

Missy had cleaned out the kitchen of perishables at some point for her, and most of her clothes were gone, but the house had an “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, is the thing. I think you’re harassing me, and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

He shrugged. “Prove it. Meanwhile, I can prove that your boyfriend is running drugs, guns, and underage girls under cover of that garage of his.”

“If you can prove it, then why are you talking to me?” Teddy’s comments had given her some strength, and she saw the anger flash through Randall’s eyes at her words. Score one for the lady.

“I hate to see a beautiful woman tangled up with a dirtbag like him,” he said, but he’d played his hand way too far. It came out false, and he knew it, didn’t even wait for her response. “I think you know what happened to Declan McDermott. I think he’s not just a missing person. And I think you know where I can find him. Or whatever’s left of him. And if you think drugs and prostitution are rough charges for a guy, you should see what they do for cold-blooded murder.” He smiled a cold, mean little grin.

Once, in college, she’d taken an acting class. She didn’t want to. She’d been a STEM girl all the way, enjoying making numbers and figures and formulas bend to her will, but she’d needed the arts credit to round out her transcript. She’d nearly failed the class because she improved so badly. She hadn’t even known you could fail an acting class. But if her teacher had seen her in that moment, she would have aced the class, no question.

She gave Randall a confused look and shrugged. “I have no idea who that is, detective. If I could help you, I certainly would. You see, I’m an upstanding citizen—some might say, a pillar of the community. Now, you were here to check on my welfare, and as you can see, I’m completely fine. Thank you for your concern. But if I see you in my home, or my place of work again, I will consider it harassment, and I will file a report.” Her heart was beating a mile a minute, slamming against her ribs so hard that she expected it to show through her T-shirt. She forced a small smile, just as cold and mean as his, to bend her lips. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise what came next. She’d learned the hard way, a long time ago, how bullies responded to be bullied in return. He got in her face again, but he didn’t lay hands on her this time. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, to meet his eyes. “I will find him.” Randall spat the words out violently. “I will find him, and I will put an end to you
and
your boyfriend. Are we clear?”

It was the last bit that would have gotten her the A. She raised an eyebrow, completely unflustered, and smiled, as if she were amused. “You have a lovely day, detective. I hope you find your missing person.”

She was actually surprised that he left without hitting her. She’d expected a slap at the least. She was almost hoping for it; she really would have been able to file harassment charges then, and get this dick off her ass.

But he just narrowed his eyes and stalked out, leaving the garage door open behind him.

She forced herself to count to 100 before she let her knees give out, let herself slide down the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them. Letting herself shake to pieces for just a little while.

She dropped her phone three times before she was even able to get it out of her pocket, much less dial a number.

“Jack?” She said, when he answered. “I need your help.”

CHAPTER
TEN

“I’m— not sure how to phrase this,” Missy said. “I’m not upset that you called us—I said we’d do anything we could to help, and I meant that, and I know Jack did too. But I’m not sure why you called us, and not Mason. It seems like— He’s the guy to help in a situation like this?”

Caroline felt a bit like she was sitting in the eye of a tornado. All around her, emotions were surging and raging, but where she sat— there was a numbness. After everything else, it was rather nice. Relaxing. “I don’t know why,” she said. “It just— he’s— I don’t know.”

Missy wrapped her arm around Caroline’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Okay, honey. Don’t worry about it. Tell us what you need.”

“The guy,” she said. “Jack’s friend. He’s dirty. I’m sure of it.”

Jack shook his head, then winced at the motion. The cold had settled firmly in his head, and he was dizzy sitting up. “Mike Randall isn’t my guy. I don’t— he asked me a long time ago not to give out his name, but that’s not him. I promise you, Caro. But he’s nothing to do with me. I don’t know how he got the information, how he knew to come after you and Mason, but he’s not mine.”

“Then I think what we do is tell your friend,” Missy said. “Let him know. Let the department handle it.”

“But how do we do that without telling them about Declan?” Caroline asked, and the other two fell silent.

“I need to call my friend,” Jack said, after a bit. “Tell him what’s going on. He’ll know the best thing to do. If he thinks it's safest for us to just fly under the radar until this stops, he’ll say, but if there’s more he can do, he’ll do it. I know—” he said, before Caroline could protest. “I know it seems like a terrifying idea, but I need you to trust me on this one, okay? This is the right thing for us to do.”

Caroline took a deep breath and tried to survey her options. There were frighteningly few of them. The police held all the cards because they were supposed to be constrained by the law and what was right. If Detective Randall had abandoned those principles, then he would be very difficult to stop without— Well, without lethal force. And that was a road she didn’t want to go down. “You think Randall is the dirty cop?” Caroline said. “You think he’s the one Declan was working with?”

Jack nodded. “It’s a real possibility.”

Missy tapped her lips with her forefinger. “He might be afraid that Declan left something that would tie him to the case. He might be coming after you two to try and resolve that loose end, cover his own ass. If he can frame Mason for everything—let’s face it, Declan did half that work for him, and it would be easy to write the story from there—he covers his own involvement, or even spins a story where he was working undercover to make it all happen. It’s a little Hollywood, but it’s far from impossible.”

“I need to call my guy,” Jack said. “And Caroline, it’s beyond time for you to tell Mason what’s going on. Honestly, I think you should have told him as soon as you found the file.”

“I needed to take care of it myself,” she said, finding that the eye of the tempest had passed over her, and she was right smack in the middle of all the emotion all over again. Missy’s arm tightened around her shoulder, and she heard the soothing sounds the other woman was trying to make, but they just pissed her off more. “I’m not some weak little girl who has to rely on the men in her life to take care of her.”

“You’re not,” Jack agreed. “You handled yourself well. This isn’t about being a woman. This is about being in way over your head. This is a cop, Caroline. You think he couldn’t hide a body if he wanted to? You think he might not have done it already?”

That was a shock of cold water over her head, and she stopped fighting. She could feel Missy giving him a filthy look, but Jack didn’t stop. “I get it,” he said. “I get the need to take care of yourself. Especially after what you went through. But you’re not alone. And there’s a different between independent and stupid.”

“I’ll call Mason,” she said, her voice choked. “You call your friend.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mason was eerily quiet on the phone as she went over everything that had happened since that morning. It was weird, that it was only three in the afternoon. Too much had been squeezed into just those few hours.

“I need to see you,” he said, finally. “Can I meet you back at the apartment, or do you want me to come to Jack and Missy’s place to get you?”

“I can drive,” she said, and she fought to keep her tone neutral. “I’m okay.”

“Your voice is shaking, but your tone is flat. You’re still in shock. I need to know your reactions are okay.”

She wanted to punch the soldier, but that would be bad for all sorts of reasons. She closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and found something that approached the center of her heart. “Is that better?”

“A little bit. Promise to pull over and call me if you start spacing out again?”

Punching him would definitely be inappropriate, not the least because he was all the way across town, and it would hurt her hand to punch the wall. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes, I just want to find out what Jack knows.”

“Sure,” he said. “Drop me a text when you leave, and I’ll meet you in the apartment.”

“Sure.” She thought about telling him that she loved him— but it would ring false right now, and she didn’t want that. Not for either one of them. “Thanks, Mason.”

Funny. That seemed to mean even more, at least based on the warmth in his voice. “Of course, baby. I told you. I’m here for you.” But then he disconnected before she could say anything else in response.

She rubbed her hand over her eyes and tried to keep that feeling of centered calm close. It kept flitting away when she was least expecting it to disappear, leaving her on the edge of tears, or rage, or both at once. Her skin felt tight and sore where Randall had touched her, but there was no sign of redness or bruising.

She kept wandering back to what Jack had said. If he was the dirty cop, the one Declan had been working with...he might not be any stranger to murder at all. She knew she’d been walking a fine line back in her house but this was ridiculous.

She was never going back there, not ever again. She’d hire movers to pack up all her stuff and put it in storage until she found a permanent place to live. But her feet would never cross the threshold of that cursed place in this lifetime. Simple as that.

She changed her clothes and felt a bit better in clean jeans, clean underwear, and a clean bra. She even changed out of the shirt she’d bought that morning. She’d wash it, and see if she could bring herself to wear it again without thinking, “This is the shirt I wore the day I could have died.”

When she opened the door, Missy was standing there, her hand poised to knock. “Oh!” She jumped just a little, and Caroline would have been lying if she’d said she didn’t move a little too fast as well. “I’m sorry. You were— I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Caroline stepped aside, letting Missy come in and sit down on the bed. Caroline leaned against the bureau. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold still if she sat down. “Can we talk?” Missy asked.

“If it’s about Mason, and how I should stay away from him, I’ve— Missy, I’ve heard you say it all already, and it’s not changing things for me. I know it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I am still doing it.” She found herself saying the words she hadn’t said to anyone but Mason, at least not like this. “I care about him. I love him. I can’t just walk away, and I can’t just pretend that he’s not in my life. He is, and he matters.”

Missy was shaking her head already. “Sweetie, I know that. And Mason… I worry about you two, but he’s one of the good ones. He’s been here for you every step of the way, keeping an eye on you and making sure that you’re as safe as he can make you. I get that. But I need to know you’re being careful.”

Caroline couldn’t help the head tilt and her confused expression. “Careful? How? You mean, like condoms? Because I had that conversation with my doctor when I was sixteen—“

Missy laughed, still shaking her head. “No, obviously. I mean… It’s easy to get blinded, Caro. It’s easy to not see the dangerous parts because we want to see just the good. He’s on his best behavior when he’s here, and I need to know that he’s treating you well when you’re
not
here.”

Something inside of herself sagged just a little, and Caroline settled down on the bed, letting her shoulder brush against Missy’s. The other woman’s arm came around her, squeezing her gently, and then fingers started to trace a delicate, soothing pattern on the skin of her shoulder. It was soft enough that it didn’t bother her or feel intrusive, but firm enough that it could be more if she wanted it to be.

“It’s so hard to explain,” Caroline said, letting her eyes close as she drifted with the touch.

She let herself fall backwards, draping herself across the bed like a girl confessing secrets to her best friend. Missy followed her, lying on her side and propping her head up on her hand.

“He’s good to me, but it’s in a different way than I’ve ever seen before? He’s kind and considerate, but it’s… He doesn’t ask about my day, but he’ll look me up and down and hand me a beer. He doesn’t go all gushy about his feelings, but we’ve never once had sex without him making sure I’m having a good time. Multiple times, if I can arrange it.” She laughed, burying her face in her hands, and Missy laughed too, poking her with a finger.

“If he ever once makes you cry,” Missy said, “You tell me, and I will rip his cock off and fry it on the grill. Yes?”

“Yes,” Caroline said. She reached over and ran her fingers down Missy’s arm, watching the woman shiver gently. “Could you cuddle with me a bit? I feel all— out of sorts. Shaky.”

“That’s no good at all,” Missy said, and she snuggled down, cuddling into Caroline’s arms. Her warmth was amazing. There was so little that was soft about Missy, but in moments like this, Caroline never felt anything less than utterly cared for.

When she felt a little less like crying, they went back out to the living room.

Jack was saying “thank you” and hanging up the phone as they walked out. “We were right,” Jack said as she sat back down on the couch. “At least, as far as my guy can tell. Randall is under investigation by IA, which explains why he’s so eager to get you to fold.”

The quiver started up in Caroline’s stomach again, and she fought to keep that centered feeling.

“If he can lay the blame on Mase and Caro, all his problems go away,” Missy said.

“So what do we do?”

Jack thought for a moment. Caroline felt horrible for laying all of this on his doorstep; his eyes were swollen and red, he looked exhausted, and he gave a half-hearted sniff every other breath or so. But this had the potential to affect them as well, and deeply. They had to know what was going on.

“I don’t know, entirely. You said your cousin is looking into the guy, and my friend is going to approach IA, see if he might be able to get some sort of a deal for Mason. Testify against the cop for immunity against trafficking charges, something like that. Do you think he’d go for that, if it were an option?”

She thought of her boyfriend, the man she loved, and the way he never fully relaxed. Tried to imagine him playing ball with the cops, trusting that they weren’t going to dig any further into anything that the information that they were given. Imagined him trusting anyone at all. “I don’t know.
Maybe?
”

“It may be the easiest way to make this all go away,” Missy interjected. “Especially if there’s a way to make it look like the cop found Declan that night, instead of Mason. What?” She reacted sharply to the looks that Jack and Caroline turned on her. “He’s trying to use us. Please explain to me why we can’t turn that back around on him.”

“My wife is smart,” Jack said. “Morally gray sometimes, but smart. And, I think, right.”

“I need to go see him,” Caroline said. “I need to go and talk to him.”

“Keep us updated,” Missy said, and hugged her firmly.