Chest heaving, she clung to him like a spider monkey, eyes on her sneaker as it hit the floor below with a sickening splat!

She thought of the legend of Essie Mae. The way she’d jumped from the second story. The way Lily could have died in this house, if not for Marcus’s quick reaction time. She snuggled in closer.

He bent with her and ever so carefully untangled her pant leg from the broken board. When he stood, it was to back them another step away from the gaping hole.

“This is so fucking stupid!” he yelled.

She trembled, but he kept her tightly in his arms. She didn’t think he was yelling at her specifically, but he shocked her all the same. It was possibly the first time she’d ever heard him raise his voice. No matter what went wrong at work, no matter what had Clive pacing and cursing in the conference room, Marcus was the cool, calm, and collected one.

His hand splayed on the small of her back, warm and gentle despite his body vibrating with anger, or fear, or maybe a combination of the two. She peered up at him, into his dark eyes, and his expression softened.

“Don’t do that again.”

She nodded.

He pressed her close and kissed her. When he backed away, she sifted her fingers into his hair. “Thank you.”

“I’d say any time, but seriously, let’s not do that again. You scared five years off my life.”

She could feel his racing heart under her other palm and gave him a wan smile.

His eyes went over her head, and his eyebrows crashed down.

She was afraid to ask, but it turned out she didn’t have to.

Jutting his chin forward, he gestured to the doorway. She spun around to see a set of bells, and attached to it, her car keys, lying on the floor. No way had those been there a minute ago. Chills skated down her spine.

“We’re going,” he announced, bending to lift her into his arms.

“Wait.” She stayed him with one hand. “I’m not sure how much combined weight this floor can take.”

Given the grimace on his face, he either didn’t like her suggestion, or was upset he hadn’t thought of it first. He hesitated as if trying to decide whether to listen to her or not.

“I can walk.”

He took her hand. “Hold onto me. And stay on the inside wall.”

They trekked as quickly as they could while watching their steps. Marcus reached the doorway and dropped her hand, signaling for her to stay where she was against the wall while he bent and retrieved her keys. The second he stood with them in his hand, a tinny, feminine voice said one word.

“Out.”

Marcus was on her in a flash, bending and scooping her up, heedless of the splintered boards as he took the stairs to the first floor, weaving around holes and exposed nails in his race to get them the hell out of the house.

Lily held tight and when she thought she saw movement on the rapidly dwindling landing above her, she squeezed her eyes shut.

He set her on her feet and threw open the front door, shoving her out of it. “Officially the worst idea we’ve ever had.”

She tried to come back inside “Wait! My purse.” The air mattress, the lantern, and everything else could stay there for all she cared. But her purse with her ID and everything she needed for her life outside of that house was paramount.

“Stay,” he commanded, darting into the living room. She wove her fingers together and refused to look upstairs. A second later, he thrust the bag into her hands, and they ran for the car.

Chapter Twelve

Willow Mansion faded into the mist as Marcus backed out of the weed-infested driveway and onto the main road. Lily didn’t take a single look back at the place, but her imagination supplied plenty of images that went with the sounds she knew she hadn’t imagined.

Marcus hadn’t asked if he could drive, but simply piled his duffel bag into the backseat, her into the front, and climbed behind the wheel. As he took the ramp to the highway, nearly empty that early in the morning, she rested her head on the seat and looked over at him.

Determination set his mouth into a firm line, and one hand was nested in his hair, the other casually resting on the steering wheel. He stared, eyebrows down, and she wondered what he was thinking. Then, he told her.

“I rigged a speaker.”

She blinked, sure she hadn’t heard him correctly. He spared her a brief glance, taking his eyes off the road just long enough to say, “I found a clip of a woman’s voice saying the word ‘go’. I had a remote. Whenever you heard that, it was me.”

When he turned to look out the windshield again, she thought twice through what he’d said, then a third time. She must have been too tired to be angry with him because what came out was, “But she didn’t say ‘go’ when we left. She said ‘out’.”

“I know.” He didn’t look over.

“And the crashing sound? Did you put that on the speaker?”

He shook his head.

“And…the footsteps?”

He gripped the steering wheel and kept his attention on the road. “No.”

So. That was alarming.

“Come home with me,” he said. She snapped her head to look at him. He didn’t glance back, but he did put one hand on her leg. “It’s not a sex thing, Lil. I’d feel better if I knew you were safe.”

She didn’t answer, but clearly, she didn’t have to. Ten minutes later he pulled her little red car in front of a house that, she assumed, he owned. It was almost…quaint. Cute, even. There were flowerboxes on the windows, navy-blue shutters against white siding. And it was clean. Tidy.

What she’d expect from a guy like him was some sort of playboy bachelor pad. An über chic lair filled with high-end electronics and slim-lined furniture. She supposed those things could still be inside the humble abode she was now staring at.

But she doubted it.

The wide hand that hadn’t moved away from her thigh squeezed. “I’m so fucking tired.”

So was she. And now that they were sitting in front of his house, she knew he was going to press the offer he’d made.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice holding a nervous edge. “Scary.” The house, the sounds, and the fact that she was very close to saying yes to sleeping next to Marcus for the rest of the night. She was pretty damn tired herself.

“Want to come in?” His tone was low, gentle.

“Marcus.”

“I don’t want you driving home.” He lifted his knuckles and brushed her cheek. Her eyes closed heavily. As if it was decided, he pulled his hand away and unbuckled his belt. “Let’s go inside, McIntire. I have a warm bed with me in it waiting for you.”

“It’s probably better that I go home.”

He didn’t acknowledge her weakly spoken argument, instead climbing out and rounding the vehicle, where he opened the door. He bent over her, unclipped her seat belt, and then hauled her out of the car.

“The manhandling isn’t necessary,” she grumbled.

He pulled her close to his lips, gripping her firmly by her arms. “Get your incredible ass in my house.”

“Why?” She beat back the smile dying to produce itself on her face.

He grinned. “So you can protect me from the things that go bump in the night.”

Her knees went soft. “Was that a sex joke?”

“Yeah.” And now his eyes were twinkling.

“Fine.” She shook out of his grasp, leaned into the car, and snatched up her purse. “I’ll stay.”

“That’s my girl.” He took his bag from the backseat and locked her car with the key fob. It made her remember the remote he’d confessed to, which made her surly all over again.

“You bought a speaker to play a voice by remote,” she said as he unlocked the door and went inside.

“Going to bed,” he called over his shoulder.

If she wasn’t so tired, she might have argued with him. Then again, he did have her keys. She was having trouble holding onto those suckers.