Page 35 of Unlawful Seduction

If there was one thing that could be said about me, it was that I was extremely observant. That included paying attention not only to sights, but to sounds as well. Every house made sounds of their own and when homeowners turned off their televisions, fans, and other noise-making devices, they would hear a glorious, albeit quiet symphony of sounds.

The farmhouse my father had designed and had built had exposed beams in the ceilings and several walls. With expansion and contraction, creaks of every kind were often heard, differingdepending on the time of year. A few floorboards creaked where nails had come loose. I knew where to avoid stepping on them and had since I’d lived here before.

There were also two windows that needed to be replaced and a couple of times I’d caught wind whistling through the cracks in the weather stripping. There was also a single faucet that needed to be tightened or to be replaced as water dripped continuously throughout the day and night. Thank God the faucet wasn’t located near the bedroom where I slept, or I’d have yanked it out myself.

The sounds gave the house character. At least according to my father.

The noise I heard had nothing to do with the joys of home ownership. It was entirely and completely manmade.

And it included the arming of a weapon.

I should have paid attention to the light outside. It had been a warning.

I lunged forward, crashing down on the floor just outside the kitchen. A high-pitched scream rushed from my lungs, but it was quickly cut short by my head and body being jerked back by my hair. I used the bag of food as a weapon, pummeling it over my shoulder.

The deep grunt indicated contact, so I kept bashing the attacker.

When the asshole’s full body weight shifted, I scrambled forward, almost making it to the kitchen counter before my hair was snagged again, this time the asshole snapping me back against the wall in the foyer.

Gasping, I pitched my hands out, able to shove him aside and jumped further into the room. I was briefly disoriented, which was just enough time for the attacker to grab me all over again.

“No!” I fought with everything I had, gasping for air as I tried to make my way to the butcher block.

Suddenly, anguish exploded in the side of my head from a backhand or punch and I was tossed to the floor. The air ripped from my lungs, I tried to remain conscious, clawing my way by a few inches.

“Bitch.” It was the single word he said and likely the last one I’d ever hear.

Nothing could have prepared me for either the sounds or understanding of what happened next.

Someone came to my rescue.

Someone huge and formidable, yanking the full weight of the man attacking me off as if the son of a bitch was nothing but a rag doll. The brutal thud as the assailant’s body was tossed against the wall became a call to action. I scrambled to get further away from the carnage, the air stolen from my lungs. I’d never felt so weak or disoriented in my life.

I managed to use the kitchen counter to hoist myself to a standing position, my body swaying back and forth as my foggy brain tried to process what was going on.

The horrible sounds of a savage fight continued and a small part of me was praying my hero was winning. Every grunt and moan of agony was exaggerated, echoing in my ears. The ringing was tremendous, my head aching to the point I was having difficulty catching my breath.

Every action I took seemed to be in slow motion, but I was finally able to turn the light on over the stove. As I swung around, I grabbed a butcher knife from the block, now gasping for air and so lightheaded I was certain I’d pass out.

The two figures were enshrouded in shadows, both throwing punches relentlessly. It was impossible to know who was winning. When one of the two lifted the other in the air, dragging him further into the kitchen and slamming the man’s face onto the table several times, the entire kitchen was jarred from the brutal actions. Everything on the tabletop flew onto the floor, the single glass I’d forgotten about from the morning smashing into a hundred pieces.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the melee, the fight so powerful and every action so quickly maneuvered, the entire scene unfolding in front of me was one huge blur.

The man beaten to a pulp and tossed on the table tried to fight back, using his heavy bulk to drive the other man away. Yet the larger of the two, the one I sensed was winning managed to throw his muscular arm around the other man’s neck, jerking back with his full weight as another weapon.

Snap.

The hard cracking sound didn’t need light or an explanation.

The poor bastard’s neck had been broken.

I held the knife in both hands, fighting to keep from whimpering. Whoever had won the fight had me cornered. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The survivor was huge and through the ugly haze of my terror, I couldn’t help but wonder if his large frame had fit through mydoorway without adding destruction to the mix. The thought was ridiculous, but a reminder I was alive and there was a dead guy crumpled on the floor in the middle of my kitchen.

My gaze lingered to the heap on the floor until a hard thud dragged my eyes toward the second attacker who remained alive.

I swung the knife in front of me, an instant snarl forming on my lips. “You better get out of here. I’ve already called the police.”

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