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

took another sip of the disgusting coffee. There was a phrase, she’d read about it somewhere, and she struggled to pull it out of her memory as completely as possible. “I apologize, Detective, but I’m unable to answer questions at this time. If I’m a suspect, then I would like to request a lawyer now. Otherwise, I would prefer to leave the station.”
     
    His eyes darkened. “I know that you’re associated with that dirtbag. I know that you’re Mason’s girl, and I know that you know what happened to Declan McDermott. You are going to tell me what happened.”
     
    Her pulse throbbed, and she could see the movement of her chest with the force of her heartbeat. “Detective, I’m sorry, but I would prefer not to answer any questions at this time.”
     
    “Do you think that liberal shit is going to work on me? Just because we’re in Vermont, you think you can get away with that sort of crap? I am the goddamned police, and you are not as important as you think you are.”
     

 
    CHAPTER FIFTEEN
     
    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