Mason: Fallen Angels MC (23 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

Caroline could see his pulse pounding in his temple, harsh and fast, and saw his knuckles edging into white. Once, a detective had interviewed her in her office about a client who’d had some shady side businesses going on; it had been a polite conversation, felt like a meeting between colleagues.

This was something entirely different. It took everything she had to fight the power structure inherent in the room, but she met his eyes, reminded herself that she was being recorded, and kept her voice calm and quiet. She was safe. He couldn’t hurt her, not really. This wasn’t some show about police on TV, where they were allowed to be abusive and mean in order to try and get confessions. She would be safe here.

“Detective, I apologize again, but I would prefer not to answer any questions at this time.”

It happened so fast that she had no time to prepare, no time to try and duck, or scream, or hit back.

Randall came over the table at her, shoving her back into her chair. The coffee cup flew out of her hand, smashing against the wall in a loud crash that made her ears ring more than they should have. The liquid splashed up her arm, but the sensation of burning was far away, distant, indistinct.

The sensation of two hundred pounds of angry cop leaning over the table, pushing her chair back onto its rear legs, was much more immediate. She grabbed onto his arms, not trying to pull herself back up, but trying to keep herself from going over.

She was full of screams, so many screams, but she clenched her teeth on them, finding some tiny corner of courage in the refusal to give in and give him what he wanted. She’d gotten a message out to Mason. As long as he wasn’t so pissed at her that he wasn’t even looking at his phone, it would be okay.

He’d get her out of this. She hated that she was thinking of it that way, but holy shit, she’d be a feminist tomorrow—today she just wanted this horrible monster off her before he hurt her.

“Listen, you bitch,” Randall hissed into her face, spittle flying, “I don’t know how you did it, or how you’re involved, but I know that he’s gone, and now IA is in my face, and if I’m going down, I will bring you and your goddamned boyfriend and the entire world down with me if I have to, do you hear me?”

She wanted to repeat herself again, tell him in that same calm voice that she didn’t want to answer questions, but there were tears streaming down her face, unauthorized tears, and if she opened her mouth, she’d beg and cry, and he couldn’t have that. He absolutely was not allowed to drag her that low.

She shook her head furiously, back and forth. Why hadn’t someone come in and stopped him? Wasn’t that the point of taping things like this? Wasn’t that the point of the one-way glass, so that this shit was monitored, and people weren’t unfairly questioned?

He shook her so hard her teeth rattled together. “I don’t think you’re listening,” he whispered, so quietly that she wondered if the cameras would even catch it. “If you don’t start fucking talking to me, I will make what Declan did to you in that kitchen seem like prom night. I will obliterate everything that matters to you. Are you understanding me?”

She couldn’t shake her head again, but she could refuse to answer. She looked away, up past his shoulder, anywhere but at his eyes. She could feel the tremors in her hands. Not Gloria. Please, God, let him not know about Gloria. Anything else, anything could happen to her in the entire world, and Mason and Teddy could keep themselves safe but not Gloria. Gloria had to be safe.

“Yeah,” he said, stroking her cheek like a lover, making her stomach twist.

She swallowed hard on the bitter, slimy taste that was trying to climb up the back of her throat.

“Yeah, I know all about it. He called me after, told me about this cute little accountant and what he was planning to do to her after he got back from our meet. How he was going to do all sorts of filthy, nasty things to you, and then leave you where Mason could find you, to warn him off screwing with what was his. Think it would have worked?”

The fear vanished, suddenly, in a wave of adrenaline so sharp that it took her breath away. The urge to scream to was replaced with an urge to fight like a wildcat, vicious and efficient and mean.

But she’d done that before, and it hadn’t particularly gotten her anywhere she wanted to revisit. She shoved the urge to reach down his throat and yank his testicles up into his belly, and found the strength to offer him a crazed, wild grin. She could feel her cheeks threatening to split with the intensity of the expression, but she also saw the evil cold in his face falter, just a little, as he paused.

In that pause, as her eyes sparkled with manic laughter, she said it one more time. “I really am sorry, Detective, but I do not wish to answer any questions at this time.”

The blow came snake-fast, and she screamed as her cheek erupted into pain. Part of her mind, distant, was screaming that she’d never been hit by another person before in her life; she’d never even been spanked.

Well, not like this, not in anger, not without consent. She was turned inside out with fear and rage, as her chair rocked on its legs, only his grip on her shoulder seeming to keep it from going over.

He whispered something, something mean and nasty, and she couldn’t quite make out the words, but he was drawing his hand back to hit her again, and she wanted to be strong and brave, but she couldn’t help it, she flinched. She flinched away from him, from the pain, and then she heard the door open. It sounded like the door to a crypt creaking over, and the light from the offices spilled into a room she hadn’t even thought was dim until right now.

“Detective!” she heard someone call sharply, and then when he didn’t respond, a second and more urgent plea. “Mike.”

He stopped, then, and she watched a bully wilt down to nothing, deflate like a popped balloon.

“It’s over, Mike. You gonna come quietly?”

He stood up, straightened his jacket, and then his hand flew, coming around to strike her with the back of his hand. She flinched again, her hands coming up now to protect her face, but the blow never came. She heard an ugly grunt from Randall and looked up to see Mason holding the cop’s hand in his own white-knuckled grip. She didn’t know where he’d come from, but she’d never been so grateful to see another human being in her life.

“You never touch her again,” Mason said, quiet and clear. “Never.”

Randall yanked at his hand, and Mason didn’t let it go for a minute, offering his own crazed smile before intentionally releasing his grip. Randall straightened his jacket again, but it was the motion of a man who’d lost everything, including his dignity, and was just trying to get out of the room. She could hear the other cop reading him his rights, but all she wanted to do was to crawl inside Mason and never come out again. She found herself on her feet, diving into his arms. He wrapped her up, lifting her up on her tiptoes. She leaned her cheek against him and winced at the sting from the insulted flesh.

“Everything’s okay,” he said into her ear, and she suspected he was deliberately loud enough for the cops to hear his words. “Munch told them about how he heard Declan talking to Randall that night. They understand now who he is, and what he’s been doing. We’re safe, Caro. I promise. We’re safe now.”

“You’re free to go, miss,” another voice said. She looked up into the face of an older man, wearing a suit and tie. He exuded authority as he extended his hand to her, and she shook it almost on reflex. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. Let me know if there’s anything the department can do to help you in the future.”

“I just want to go,” she said, hating how small her voice was in that moment. She could feel a deep tremor starting up in her insides. She was minutes from falling to pieces, and she would not let Randall see how close he’d come to truly breaking her. That was not acceptable.

“Agreed,” Mason said. “Let’s get you home.”

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

She didn’t remember later how they all got back to Mason’s place. She didn’t have her helmet or her jacket, and Mason hadn’t brought them with him, he’d been so frantic when he got her text. He told her, when she asked, that Jack had driven her car to his place, and Missy had driven their car, while Mason took his bike, but it was all a blur to her.

She was walking into Mason’s house when the shockwave broke and she fell entirely to pieces. She remembered him picking her up carefully, tucking blankets around her on the couch as tightly as he could, and then just holding her while she alternated crying and dozing.

Eventually, she slept.

When she woke up, they drove south and got Gloria. Emily looked him over, then shook his hand. She didn’t comment on the fact that Caroline had managed to acquire another stellar black eye. Caroline assumed that someone had updated her in the past 24 hours; she was too overwhelmed with the joy of seeing Gloria again, being kissed and licked and played with, that she didn’t bother to think about it too much.

On the way home, with Gloria in the backseat and one hand on the steering wheel, she reached over and wrapped her fingers through Mason’s. “Thank you,” she said.

He glanced back at her from studying the mountains they were driving through. “What for?”

“I saw the text you sent. I mean, I didn’t see it until this morning, but I saw it.”

He made a neutral noise, somewhere between a grunt and a cough.

She glanced at him for just a moment. “I love you, I’m on my way?”

He shrugged. “I do, and I was. I didn’t want you to feel alone.”

“We’d just had a big fight, and you came without asking for anything.”

Another one of those noises, and she chose to interpret it to mean, “Of course, and I’d do it again.” She’d probably probe for clarification later, but for now, that was enough.

“So what happened, anyway? How did you guys get me out of there?”

Mason gave another calm shrug. “Nothing fancy. He wasn’t actually holding you on anything anyway, just wanted to scare you. You gave Munch the file; he looked into it, and realized that he’d heard Declan talking to that guy the same afternoon he went missing. He told me, we talked to Jack’s friend, he took the file and found Randall’s fingerprints. Especially once he took you, and hit you, IA was sure they had enough to hang him up. Might even get tried for murder.”

“Did they find a body?”

“Not sure, but if they do, it’ll be his door they knock at.”

She drove a little longer in silence. “You okay with that?”

He didn’t look away from the mountains, and his voice was distant and chilled, the tone something she was starting to think of as his soldier voice. “I figure, even if he wasn’t involved in this particular homicide, doesn’t mean his hands were clean. He put guns on the streets and girls into cages. I’ll be able to sleep at night, whatever comes.” He looked at her, then, his gaze heavy and intense. “You?”

Caroline’s turn to shrug. “As far as I know, the guy’s a missing person. I don’t have anything to worry about.” A weight fell off her shoulders as she said it. Maybe he was right. Maybe, very rarely, it was better not to know. Maybe once in a while, it was better to trust someone else.

Mason squeezed her hand and turned his eyes back to the mountains.

At Mason’s apartment, Gloria was thrilled by the new digs. Mason had gone shopping at some point, and she had new squeaky toys and a chew bone, a new water bowl, and food dish. She ran in circles for half an hour, exploring everything, then curled up on the couch with her tail over her nose and passed out. Mason watched her, a beer in his hand, grinning like a kid. “That’s my spot, mutt,” he grumbled happily. “Don’t get too used to it.”

“Think we’ll be here long enough to get used to it?” Caroline asked.

He held out a hand and reeled her in, tight against him. “I think that depends on you, baby.”

She gave him a questioning look as he swayed them softly from side to side.

“Well, first off, do you want to stay? Do you think we can find a common ground? I can’t give up the club; I won’t.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said. “They’re your family, and they make you whole. But I’m scared that you’ll go to the dark side, somehow.”

“Nope,” he said, setting the beer down and holding her with both hands now. “Because I’ve got this beautiful girl who wants one of the good guys.”

“No guns,” she said. “No hard drugs. No selling women.” She thought about it for a moment. “Something like what the club was supposed to be, where girls—and guys—could dance and make some good money and feel good about that, and safe? That kind of thing I’d help you get off the ground myself.” 

“The club idea is a good one, if we could get the permits legally. The rest of it—baby, I promise you. No guns, no drugs, no unwilling women. I couldn’t live with myself if I did that stuff anyway. Knowing I’d lose you is just the cherry on the ‘nope’ sundae.”

She couldn’t keep a straight face after that, and he kissed her neck while she laughed. It sent a flurry of energy through her, swirling out to the tips of her breasts and the space between her thighs, filling her with want and need and desire. She sighed as he pulled her harder against him, his hands tight on her waist, his body tightening against her. His hands drifted down to her ass, grinding against her. “Kids are asleep,” he said, running his lips down her neck and making her shiver. “What do you say?”

“Please? I think that’s the magic word, isn’t it?”

“You know what would be fun?” He teased her earlobe with his teeth, and she felt her knees going soft. “If the magic word for me was Ma’am.”

She leaned back a bit and raised an eyebrow at him. “As in yes, Ma’am, please, Ma’am?”

He nodded. “If you’re up for that.”

The surge of heat and wetness in her panties said yes. “I seem to recall you losing a bet the other night. Want to pay up?”

The tension was so subtle she almost didn’t catch it. “Yes,” he said, but there was a reservation, a subtle change.

“Hey, love,” she said, trying out the endearment and liking how it felt on her tongue. “Talk to me. What’s up?”

He took her hand and led her into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them. She sat on the end of the bed, but he paced for a moment. “So, it’s like this,” he said, finally. “The thing I said— I kind of exaggerated how much I’ve done. Anally. I mean, I
want
to, but I’ve never… have you?”

She kept her face calm and serious, steadfastly refusing to let the giggles to the surface. “I’ve been on the receiving end—as you know—but not the giving end. Honestly, if you haven’t—I’d love to explore with you, but going slowly is probably going to be our best bet here. I have been fucked by guys who don’t know what they’re doing, and believe you me, it’s not how we start out.”

“I want to give you a present,” he said. “I want to give you the control you didn’t have yesterday. I want to be open for you.”

Not giggling at his awkwardness was becoming more and more difficult. “You look incredibly uncomfortable, Mase. That’s not what I’m looking for here. I care more about being close to you, about the way it makes me feel to touch you, than I do about the specific positions we’re in while I touch you.” She reached out, and he stopped his pacing and took her hand. “Besides, there’s lots of ways to play without me needing to peg your ass. We could work up to it. If you want.”

It was the heat roaring through his eyes that convinced her, as much as his words. “I want,” he said.