Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
R emy climbed the stairs from his basement, tilting his head side to side to crack his neck as he went. He loved his job, but sitting in front of a mic for hours a day could really take a toll on a guy’s body. Maybe he’d expand his recording closet into an actual studio and be able to move around a bit. Good thing he lived in the woods where there were plenty of ways to get exercise.
Which reminded him, his firewood was looking a little low. Depending on how the light was he finished dinner, he could grab his chainsaw and?—
Remy stopped in his tracks at the same time his blood cascaded through his veins like ice water. What was that sound ? He was used to some weird noises out here in the woods and in his old cabin, but that wasn’t like anything he’d ever heard before.
The agonized cry rang out again, and… Jesus Christ, was that coming from Nuala’s place? Probably. It was the middle of the week which meant there weren’t many people out at Mountain View, but Nuala had been living here full-time for a month now.
Even if it were a summer weekend when there were more people in the mostly vacation community, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hear the sound from anyone else’s house so clearly. Unless their windows were open. But the scream sounded muffled enough that he didn’t think it was coming from outside.
After his initial reaction that had frozen his feet to the floor, Remy felt his heart start with a vengeance, his pulse pounding in his ears because that was Nuala, and she was in danger.
They hadn’t talked much since she’d moved in. She rarely left the house as far as he could tell. But she had texted him a few times for help carrying boxes and once to move some furniture, and there had been that single touch a month ago that had felt so wrong and so right at the same damn time. A touch that had been the starting point to all the fantasies that had fueled his jerk off sessions since. Even if she didn’t feature heavily in his spank bank, he’d still go running, because she was a person who needed help. But he maybe had an extra burst of urgency knowing it was her.
Remy shoved his feet into his shoes and took off at a sprint, crashing through underbrush and sprinting through a gauntlet of branches. He tried to shield his face so he didn’t put an eye out, but otherwise he threw caution to the wind.
It still felt far too long until he reached Nuala’s front door. He rang the bell, but now that he was so close, he could hear pulsing music underneath the screams. Did this psycho killer have a soundtrack or something?
Again and again, he rang the bell and yelled Nuala’s name, pounded on the door for good measure, but no one answered. He wasn’t entirely surprised but it sure as fuck didn’t make him feel any better. All he could think of was that someone was hurting Nuala, and his blood boiled.
He tried the door handle, but of course it was locked. He had to get in, and get in now, so he stripped off his shirt, wound it around his hand, and punched through the glass.
The shards tinkled as they fell to the ground, and they crunched underfoot as he reached through the frame and unlocked the door then barged through.
“Nuala! Nuala !” he called as he sprinted up the steps.
The music got louder and louder as he charged toward the master suite, and there was no response, just more wailing, and the sound of flesh meeting flesh. The fucker was beating her.
He swore as he shouldered through the door, the heavy wood smashing into the wall with the force of his entry, and his vision was glazed in red as he barged into the room, expecting to see Nuala battered and curled up in a ball on the floor with some monster looming over her, but no. Oh no.
Anticipating a spank and not receiving one was as bad as a failed sneeze. And in this case, far, far worse. It had been jarring for the next thwack of the paddle not to come, and more so for Anthony to let go of her hands that he’d had pinned at the small of her back. The worst part was hearing a third and familiar person mutter, “Shit.”
Nuala felt as though she was trying to drag her brain out from the depths of the sweet molasses of subspace and back into the real world, and dear god was that unpleasant. She felt lucky that she only swayed when she clambered off Anthony’s thighs, until she remembered she was naked. Then the mortification doused her like a bucket of cold water, and she snatched her robe from the foot of the bed, fumbling to put the damn thing on.
If her brain could work properly for a minute that would be so welcome. Although perhaps if she was in full possession of her faculties, she might die of humiliation, so maybe this vaguely concussed feeling was better.
“Remy,” she breathed.
Really? Was that all she could come up with? His name?
“Nuala,” he responded, his dark gaze darting between her and Anthony, who was sitting on the bench at the foot of her bed, frozen, like one of the many deer she’d caught in headlights on her way up to Thistledon over the years.
Her neighbor looked incensed and he didn’t need to be. She could explain, but she should probably get her play partner out of here first.
“Just go,” she told Anthony, fearing what Remy might do if her top stayed. Her neighbor looked deranged with his shoulders heaving and his hands clenched into fists, his face red and his gaze dark like he was spoiling for a fight. “Out the back.”
When Anthony still didn’t move, she tried to reassure him. She didn’t fear for her own safety with Remy at all, just Anthony’s. “Please, Anthony. He’s my neighbor, I’m fine. I’ll text you.”
Luckily, Anthony didn’t argue but just nodded before he grabbed his shirt and his bag which he shoved a couple stray toys in, and gave Remy a wide berth as he headed for the door. Now that one man was dealt with, she still had one to go. The worst of the two, by far.
“Could you give me a moment to collect myself? I’ll meet you downstairs in a couple minutes,” she told Remy, welcoming the ability to gather herself enough to ask. Thanks, all the media training and lectures she’d received from her mother-in-law, Cabot’s PR people, and even Cabot himself, although those had done more to shame her than anything else.
Remy didn’t look like he wanted to agree, but he’d always been respectful of her.
“Please,” she said, and he relented, shoving a hand through his hair before he left the room and she heard his footfalls on the stairs.