True Identity (The Lost and Found series Book 1) by Mackey Amanda

Author:Mackey, Amanda [Mackey, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2017-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

***

Once outside, I waited for Harley to speak, not wanting to stir his emotions. His rigid gait posed a picture of a warrior. Or a soldier.

He didn’t say a word until we were on the road, heading home. “I can’t fucking believe if I’ve been operating off the grid, I may never find the answers I seek. My best guess is they’ll catch the asshole who shot me first, and there’s no way in hell he’ll talk.” He hammered the heel of his hand half a dozen times onto his thigh. I couldn’t blame him.

He’d never used the F-bomb before. Not that I minded too much. Soldiers would surely use that type of vocabulary every day.

“I hope his contacts can lead us to someone who can help.”

“I’m not liking my chances, Angel.” He white knuckled the seat in frustration. I couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. How many other soldiers off the grid had suffered amnesia in the past? I’d say, not too many.

Parking out front of my garage at the apartment, Harley led the way to the front door. He paused a few feet away, craning his neck at an odd angle as if attempting to listen to a hushed noise.

While he did that, although odd, I put my key in the hole, twisting it, only to find it already unlocked. Strange. I’d secured it earlier. Had Nick returned?

Before I could push open the door to find out, Harley gripped my wrist.

“Stop.” He pulled me away from the door, and with a commanding tone I hadn’t heard before, he barked, “Stay here. Don’t move.”

Okay. What the hell? Why had he ordered me to stay put? And why did he look like a bomb about to detonate? With no time to speak, he’d thrown open the door wide, striding in like he’d just switched into a different person. Darker. Confident. Bossy.

My pulse kicked into high gear, a tendril of fear curling in my chest.

Cussing ensued, the volume dwindling the further into the apartment Harley went. Alarm had me clutching my throat.

If something had happened to my apartment, I needed to know. Ignoring his order to stay put, I stepped inside the open door, letting loose a strangled cry. “Oh my God!”

The living room had been trashed. Pictures on the walls hung askew, one smashed on the carpet. The sofa had been overturned, cushions splayed in spots of the room like a dot to dot, as if they’d been strategically placed there to create a sick picture. My wild, horrified imagination threatening to send me into a tailspin.

Harley stalked down the hallway toward me. “I thought I told you to stay outside?”

Not answering his gruff chastisement, I held both hands to my face. “Why? Who would have done this?”

Harley stopped in front of me, arms stiff at his side. “That boyfriend of yours angry enough to pull this off?”

“Nick? No. He might have left in a huff, but he’d never do anything like this. Heaps of his stuff is still here.

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