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Read Online Unbridled and Untethered [The Double Rider Men's Club 10] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Elle Saint James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elle Saint James
Tags: Romance
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fits of terror during her sleep for the subsequent months afterward. She’d been half-blinded by the sudden blast of light after so long in the dark. She’d still scrambled out of the tight, dark space, taking a deep lungful of air, one after another, for the first few seconds of near freedom. Then she saw the gun aiming for her midsection and his finger already on the trigger. With her waning strength she’d pushed his arm away as he fired the gun. She narrowly missed being shot in the gut.
The short fight for her very life during that struggle for control of the gun and the resulting second discharge of the weapon would live in her nightmares forever. She hadn’t killed him, but she’d fearfully realized she had wanted him dead during and after the episode.
At the end of her explanation, Zachary patted her hand, told her not to worry, and called the short, squat redheaded detective back into the room so he could finish his questioning.
“The shooting incident from your past—” the detective who’d interrupted her first questioning said the moment he sat down.
“Is not even remotely relevant to this case,” Zachary said before she had even formed a response. “If you’d like to ask her questions regarding the incident at the bank today, fine. If not, we’ll be leaving.”
Detective Rollins returned to the room and sat beside his fellow detective and without further preamble asked, “Did you recognize any of the three gunmen who allegedly robbed the Ryder First National Bank today?”
Zachary nodded in her direction. She answered, “No. They wore masks, but none of them looked familiar to me at all.”
“Would you be able to identify any of them if you ever saw them again?”
She shrugged. “Possibly. The one who tried to rape me was paunchy around his middle and had a raspy smoker’s voice. I saw both of their faces when the EMTs arrived and took their masks off. The one who got shot in the vault by the paunchy guy was tall, skinny, and had a boyish voice.”
“What about the third man? The one you shot,” asked the other detective.
Zachary held his hand up. “Do you know for a fact that she shot him?”
The detective’s pinched expression wasn’t attractive. “Fine. I’ll rephrase my question, counselor. Miss Madison, do you know who the third gunman was?”
“No.” She fought the urge to growl. Was he accusing her of being involved?
Detective Rollins continued with his questions. “Any distinguishing marks that you can remember from any of the three men? Tattoos? Scars? Anything like that?”
Emma Rae was about to shoot off another quick negative response, when a slender slip of a memory came to her. Her focus had been on the gun he’d held and not on him. She’d raised the gun she held and prepared to fire. She’d been shaking so much she could hardly keep the gun in her hand.
The first pull of the trigger had sent a cold streak of terror down her body in memory of her previous experience. The next three shots were more about the reflex to scare him away rather than the intent to hit him. She’d opened her eyes right before he turned away and seen him in profile. The mask rode up, showing a significant swath of the skin on his neck. He did have a scar there.
The third gunman had a circular, uneven patch of skin on his neck. She allowed her memory of the incident in the vault to return.
“He had a circular scar on his neck between the collar of his coveralls and where the black mask had rode up to his jaw.”
“Really?” He made a note in his book. “Describe it. How big was it?”
Emma Rae shrugged. “Maybe the size of a nickel or slightly larger. It was a white scar against his tanned skin. I thought it looked like a burn mark. Maybe it was a cigar burn.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know.” She felt it was odd to remember something she hadn’t considered before. Something she hadn’t really remembered until being pushed.
Detective Rollins asked a few
The short fight for her very life during that struggle for control of the gun and the resulting second discharge of the weapon would live in her nightmares forever. She hadn’t killed him, but she’d fearfully realized she had wanted him dead during and after the episode.
At the end of her explanation, Zachary patted her hand, told her not to worry, and called the short, squat redheaded detective back into the room so he could finish his questioning.
“The shooting incident from your past—” the detective who’d interrupted her first questioning said the moment he sat down.
“Is not even remotely relevant to this case,” Zachary said before she had even formed a response. “If you’d like to ask her questions regarding the incident at the bank today, fine. If not, we’ll be leaving.”
Detective Rollins returned to the room and sat beside his fellow detective and without further preamble asked, “Did you recognize any of the three gunmen who allegedly robbed the Ryder First National Bank today?”
Zachary nodded in her direction. She answered, “No. They wore masks, but none of them looked familiar to me at all.”
“Would you be able to identify any of them if you ever saw them again?”
She shrugged. “Possibly. The one who tried to rape me was paunchy around his middle and had a raspy smoker’s voice. I saw both of their faces when the EMTs arrived and took their masks off. The one who got shot in the vault by the paunchy guy was tall, skinny, and had a boyish voice.”
“What about the third man? The one you shot,” asked the other detective.
Zachary held his hand up. “Do you know for a fact that she shot him?”
The detective’s pinched expression wasn’t attractive. “Fine. I’ll rephrase my question, counselor. Miss Madison, do you know who the third gunman was?”
“No.” She fought the urge to growl. Was he accusing her of being involved?
Detective Rollins continued with his questions. “Any distinguishing marks that you can remember from any of the three men? Tattoos? Scars? Anything like that?”
Emma Rae was about to shoot off another quick negative response, when a slender slip of a memory came to her. Her focus had been on the gun he’d held and not on him. She’d raised the gun she held and prepared to fire. She’d been shaking so much she could hardly keep the gun in her hand.
The first pull of the trigger had sent a cold streak of terror down her body in memory of her previous experience. The next three shots were more about the reflex to scare him away rather than the intent to hit him. She’d opened her eyes right before he turned away and seen him in profile. The mask rode up, showing a significant swath of the skin on his neck. He did have a scar there.
The third gunman had a circular, uneven patch of skin on his neck. She allowed her memory of the incident in the vault to return.
“He had a circular scar on his neck between the collar of his coveralls and where the black mask had rode up to his jaw.”
“Really?” He made a note in his book. “Describe it. How big was it?”
Emma Rae shrugged. “Maybe the size of a nickel or slightly larger. It was a white scar against his tanned skin. I thought it looked like a burn mark. Maybe it was a cigar burn.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know.” She felt it was odd to remember something she hadn’t considered before. Something she hadn’t really remembered until being pushed.
Detective Rollins asked a few
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