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One had a nasty-looking just-healed cut on his neck.
Levee, I guessed.
The other guy who’d gotten shot when they’d gone to save Myles.
The final guy was around the same age as Levee and tall, dark, and mysterious. The handsome thing, well, that seemed to go without saying with these guys.
He moved right past all the fighting as if it was just a couple of rowdy guys in a club and made a beeline for me, coming equipped with a pocketknife and a lock pick set, all the stuff that Arty had been without.
But he’d handed the knife to Arty as he went to work on the lock.
“Almost there,” he said in a calm, collected voice well beyond his years that must have come from a lot of experience packed into his young life. “Is your shoulder fucked?” he asked when he went to loosen the chain and I hissed.
“Yeah. He pulled my arm back and up and something popped,” I told him, reaching up to use my other hand when Arty freed it, to hold onto my bad shoulder as the guy, who had to be Seeley, freed me from the chain.
“Who?” Remy snarled from across the room, making my stomach drop. “Who did it?” he asked, making me turn to find him even more covered in blood than he’d been a moment before. But I wasn’t sure that any of it came from him.
I wasn’t going to answer.
Not when Remy was clearly in some sort of animalistic rage.
But my gaze seemed to move in the direction of my fake employee without me meaning for it to.
With a snarl that was almost a bit, well, demonic, Remy flew at him.
“No, don’t look,” Seeley demanded, snagging my chin and forcing it away as the man let out a howl. “Come on. I am supposed to get you out of here.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the shock of the whole situation or the almost overwhelming smell of blood in the room that had me falling into step with the stranger, but that was exactly what I did.
“The dogs…” I said as we moved down the hall.
“Don’t worry. There will be plenty of time to save the dogs when this is all handled. I’m going to take you out back to your friend.”
And that was exactly what he did.
Led me right outside and into Myles’s arms.
“Oh, thank God.”
“I think Remy might be psychotic,” I told him as he squeezed me too tight, but I needed it, so I didn’t object.
“Well, I would hope so. Since someone tried to kidnap his girl.”
“Come on,” Seeley said, drawing our attention over toward my car that they’d recovered somehow. “We need to get her to the clinic.”
“Come on. We can talk about your psycho boyfriend on the way.”
Was he my boyfriend?
And, perhaps more importantly, did I want him to continue to be that if he had a psycho violent streak?
These were questions that would plague me over the next few hours before I finally got to see him again.
And hear the story from his point of view.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Remy
