Free Call My Name (Fallen Angels MC Book 3) by Laura Day Page A

You’re going to drive nice and slow, both hands on the wheel, and I’m going to follow you. And we’re going to play awfully nice. How’s that sound to you?”
     
    “Do I need a lawyer to meet me there?” She was incredibly proud of the way her voice only shook a little, and she was still able to meet the spot—well, where she figured his eyes were, above the shocking beam of the flashlight.
     
    He chuckled, all Gomer Pyle aw-shucks-ma’am, and the flashlight moved down, leaving an ugly afterimage on her eyes. “I can’t think why that would be necessary. After all, lawyers are for people who have something to hide. And you keep telling me that you have nothing to hide.”
     
    The way the light shimmered over his face, blocking out his eyes, his mouth, whatever she tried to focus on, made him look even more like a demon, even more like a monster. He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and walked away, and she blinked, trying to clear her vision well enough to feel like she could drive. She grabbed her phone and tapped to the favorites screen. Both hands on the wheel, he’d said. She had to be quick.
     
    She tapped on Mason’s picture, and sent the shortest message she could think of that would make any kind of sense at all. cop. get lawyer. ask jack. She hit send, and then she turned the key, starting the car, and drove across town to the police station. Her hands were shaking, and her stomach was twisted into knots, but in a weird way, she felt confident. Strong. This was all coming to a head now. She could feel that in her bones.
     
    As she pulled into a parking spot, she saw her phone’s screen light up with a text, but she didn’t get a chance to even read it, much less reply. As soon as her car was parked, Randall was there, opening her door and escorting her into the station. He didn’t touch her; that was for the best. She was pretty sure she might have screamed and maybe hit him if he had. And assaulting a police officer on the grounds of the police station would possibly be the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
     
    She held her head high as he paraded her through the station. She’d never actually been inside of a police station before; it surprised her how much it looked like any other state bureaucracy. A counter with a cutout in the glass, and an officer sitting at the desk behind it. They were buzzed through a door, and then he sat her down in a room that could have come straight out of any Prime Time TV cop drama. A metal table, a couple of battered chairs, a long mirror on one wall. She was seated at the table, and Randall gave her a smile. “I’ll be with you shortly,” he said.
     
    She settled down to wait. She had a feeling it would take a while.
     
    It wasn’t, in fact. He let her sweat for just a couple of minutes, and then appeared wearing that aw-shucks smile, and carrying two cups of coffee. He set one down in front of her; she glanced down at the light brown liquid and tried not to wrinkle her nose.
     
    “Cream and sugar?” he asked.
     
    “No, in fact.” She gave him her prettiest smile. “I take my coffee black.”
     
    He reached out and switched the two mugs, taking the offensive sweetened coffee himself, and putting what had been his own unadulterated brew in front of her. She nodded a thank you and took a sip to be polite. It was swill, tasted like it had come out of one of those single-cup brewers that were so popular now. And as a gesture, she felt sure it was supposed to soften her up, make her feel safer, more compliant. And maybe it would have, if everything else about Randall didn’t set her teeth on edge.
     
    “Am I suspected of something, Detective Randall?”
     
    He shrugged. “Should I suspect you?”
     
    She resisted the urge to sigh. It was fascinating how quickly he became the adversary. “You haven’t read me my rights.”
     
    “We’re just having a conversation, Ms. Lewis. There’s no need to get adversarial.”
     
    She nodded,