Remastered Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  -About the Book-

  -1-

  -2-

  -3-

  -4-

  -5-

  -6-

  -7-

  -8-

  -9-

  -10-

  -Epilogue-

  -Want more Black Halo?-

  -Additional Titles to Love-

  -Also by Madelynne Ellis-

  -About the Author-

  Remastered

  Off the Record #1

  Madelynne Ellis

  Website | Facebook | Newsletter | Readers Group

  Copyright © Madelynne Ellis 2014. 2016. All Rights Reserved. Violators will be forced to re-enact that book with my neighbour’s dog, while wearing a corset made of living bees. Twice.

  Edited by Sandra Barkevich

  Cover Art by Madelynne Ellis

  www.madelynne-ellis.com

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to events or places is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  -About the Book-

  REMASTERED ~ Firm hand required!

  Spook Mortensen locked down his heart along with his libido years ago. No woman has come close to awakening those repressed urges, until Allegra Hutton, the sound engineer hired to remaster one of his band’s old tracks, turns out to be a curvy bombshell who puts his emotions on red-alert.

  Tensions rise while the pair make music. The kiss isn’t necessary, nor is the second just to make sure. But it’s Alle’s stubborn refusal to take no for an answer that finally forces Spook to break his self-imposed vow and take her in hand… over his lap, in a chair and up against the studio door.

  A Black Halo novella about a mysterious rhythm guitarist and the fiery red-head who endeavours to win him.

  This novella takes place after the events of Come Undone and All Night Long, but before the start of Come Together.

  Other Black Halo titles:

  Come Undone

  All Night Long

  Remastered

  Come Together

  All Fired Up

  Resistor

  Come Alive

  To discover more about Madelynne’s books, sign up for her newsletter.

  -1-

  “I’ve got it,” Allegra Hatton assured Black Halo’s manager, trying to sound confident, despite the fact that he intimidated the hell out of her. Graham Callahan was a giant of a man in every sense, and he was being rather more specific about how he envisaged the sound of the end product than she was used to. Typically, when she was hired to remaster old recordings, she was left to make the judgement calls for herself.

  “I want a cleaner, smoother sound. Bring out the melody more. Emphasize Xane’s voice over the guitars and drums. It’s far too discordant at the moment. The damn track beats you senseless it’s so belligerent.”

  So, she feared, would he, if she didn’t deliver.

  “You’re getting this aren’t you?” He loomed over her, lower lip wobbling. He had a habit of closing in as he stressed each point, and spraying her with phlegm. Hence, during the course of their conversation, they’d migrated some distance along the corridor away from the mixing room door.

  To Allegra, it seemed she was being chased from the building. Too new to be working with Black Halo, the voice inside her head kept taunting. Any minute he’s going to tell you to forget it and call in someone less fresh faced. It was miraculous enough that she’d been hired for the task in the first place when there were so many more experienced people they could have used. She’d only been working in the industry six-months in a paid capacity.

  OK, deep breath. She could do this. If she gave Graham Callahan what he wanted, he could make doors open for her. Not that fulfilling his wishes would be easy. What he was asking her to do would necessitate remixing the individual instruments, maybe even re-recording them, something that was way outside of her usual remit. Her expertise was in digitizing old analogue recordings and remastering them for re-release.

  “Ms Hutton, you are getting this?”

  “Absolutely. It won’t be a problem.”

  “Good.” He grinned broadly, obviously thrilled with her response. “Just see that we stay on the same wavelength and you aren’t side-tracked by the band pulling you in different directions.”

  “The band?” Were they here? Normally she worked in isolation. Her job involved manipulating the sound using a palette of software tools. She couldn’t see how having them around, listening in, would really contribute. On the other hand, getting to meet the band— yes, please!—she’d been an enormous Black Halo fan ever since her college days. Her outfit today was chosen in honour of that—black lacy top, worn with a slash of scarlet lipstick, although, she’d then tempered her wild child look with a sensible pinstriped skirt so as to appear professional.

  Lord—the thought of getting close to rhythm guitarist Spook Mortensen made her whole body flush with excitement. Spook fired up her imagination in a very particular and compelling way. She dreamed about mister, tall, blonde and gorgeous pinning her against a wall, or a door, or any other inanimate, immovable object and claiming her as his personal plaything for years. Spook Mortensen shredded like the devil possessed him. He was willowy and lean, and when she looked at his eyes, she knew there were secrets held in them. Secrets she prayed were very much akin to her own.

  If Spook was here, she was going to have to keep a very tight grip on herself so as not to turn into a squeeing limpet in his presence.

  Alle bowed her head so that Graham wouldn’t notice the flush beginning to creep across her cheeks as she imagined the supple caress of Spook’s lips teasing the back of her neck. “Get down on your knees,” he’d tell her and wait for her to comply. He’d capture her long hair in his hand as he nudged her towards worshipping his cock, and then when she balked he’d upend her across his knee.

  She fantasized a lot about what Spook Mortensen might make her do, most of it while she was rendered helpless in some way, though normally she hated being told what to do. There were too many men in this industry that seemed to think a woman in the mixing room was incomprehensible. Lord knows why. There was no heavy lifting involved, and her ears worked just as well as theirs.

  “The boys can be very persuasive,” Graham insisted, intruding upon her thoughts. “I trust you can stand up to their charms, and turn this track into the chart success it should be.”

  “No problem. Absolutely. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

  She was going to do this and prove to her peers exactly how good a sound engineer she was, while doing her upmost best not to drool at the same time.

  -2-

  Spook Mortensen stopped playing guitar the moment she walked in.

  He forgot the riff he’d been working on for most of the morning. Temporarily forgot how to even play guitar. In fact, why was he holding a guitar again? Especially one that wasn’t connected to an amp?

  He gaped at the woman who was blinking at the gloomy light in the editing studio, hardly able to credit what he was seeing. He saw a lot of women, and none of th
em made him sit up like this. She was right out of his subconscious. Tall. With an old-fashioned pin-up girl figure, and flame-red hair that cascaded down her back forming ringlets at the ends.

  Where was his camera?

  Like, damn, where was his camera?

  She was perfect fantasy material in every way, right down to her straight, no nonsense, pinstriped skirt. She looked very professional, unlike him and his two band mates in their scruffy T-shirts and jeans. The three of them had tumbled into the studio looking as if they’d come straight from an all-night party, with bloodshot eyes and more than a little stubble. He rubbed his jaw. Yeah, definitely in need of a shave. Still, at least he’d put in an appearance. Elspeth and Paul hadn’t shown up at all. Not that there was a whole lot for them to do. Ultimately, lead singer Xane would be the one who said yea or nay to the remastered track before it was re-released because he was their main composer.

  “Hi. I’m Allegra Hutton. Alle, like Allie, but without the I.” The vision stepped forward with her hand outstretched for one of them to take. Xane nodded his head at her. Ash mumbled a vague affirmative, and yawned. He seemed to have mislaid his charm this morning. Normally, Ash only had to flash a girl a smile and she got all giggly and started playing with her hair—or him. Actually, mostly the latter. They usually found some reason to touch him.

  Allegra—Alle had hair like spun copper, thick enough that you could bury your hands in it. That’s what he wanted to touch, along with each of the freckles on her nose and her cute bow-shaped lips.

  Spook sat on his hands, wary of what might happen if he gave in to that desire. Already, a thousand pretty pictures were streaming through his mind’s eye, not one of them even remotely appropriate and all of them too tempting by far. He bet she’d look fantastic sprawled across the mixing board, her long legs splayed and her sensible skirt hitched up so he could see the creamy cheeks of her bottom, and maybe the odd curl of fiery red hair. How good would she look with a white-stripe across her arse from the lick of a leather belt?

  Why the fuck hadn’t he brought his camera?

  Because they were here to make music, or at least re-make it, that’s why. And who was he going to get her to pose with anyway? Both Xane and Ash had somehow gotten themselves attached, which was darned inconsiderate if you asked him, at least, at this moment.

  He wasn’t going to touch her. He wasn’t even interested in a fling. Relationships were frankly too much effort. It was problematic enough keeping the members of the band talking to one another without the additional stress of maintaining a romantic attachment. Especially the sort of attachment he’d be looking for given his atypical tastes. He hadn’t come across such a woman for years.

  Not that he’d been looking.

  And well, the last time hadn’t exactly ended well. He still had the letters to prove it.

  No—life was a lot simpler if he just internalized his particular kinks. Then, there was no chance of misunderstandings occurring regarding consensuality.

  That didn’t stop his palms from itching though, or a fuzzy glow spreading through his body when she smiled at him.

  It made him eternally thankful that he had a guitar across his lap.

  Spook smiled back, to compensate for the fact that they were all being hopelessly rude by failing to accept her handshake. But he couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t…

  Damn, this lady needed issuing with a hazard warning sign. She was like a little piece of ecstasy just waiting to happen. He attempted to wrestle his gaze off her and onto something more innocuous, like his feet, but it didn’t work. His gaze just kept on sliding right back to where it started—her perfectly formed heart-shaped face.

  Damned, if she didn’t have a delightful heart-shaped bottom too.

  “Mr Mortensen.” His dream lady addressed him directly. She gazed at him with her pretty blue eyes aglow with excitement. “It’s an absolute thrill to meet you. I’m awed, you’re awesome. It’s insane the way your fingers fly when you play. You’re my favourite guitarist ever.”

  “Uh, thanks.” His tongue got stuck in his mouth. He wasn’t used to being singled out. Maybe the guys were giving off weird I’m attached pheromones or something. “You know I’m only rhythm. Ash is lead.”

  “You’re better.” Her smile lighted up the room and lighted up his insides too.

  Damn! He officially crowned her as queen of his bikini list—as in break out the radiation shields because she’s totally going to screw with your equilibrium. Touching her without having a Hazmat suit on would result in lasting damage. Just her radiance was causing him severe motor issues. He’d forgotten how the hell to speak. Instead he made a few halfwit type noises.

  “Don’t be shy, the lady’s right.” Ash slid his sunglasses down his nose, so he could peep over the top of them. His grin was broad as he looked at Spook and then back at Alle. “You’ll not get him to admit it, but he can play better with two strings than I can with six. That’s right, isn’t it, Spooky man?” Ash slapped a hand against Spook’s thigh to make his point.

  A little flash of lightning brightened Alle’s gaze at the sound of the smack.

  Spook watched her tongue peep out and sweep across her lower lip, removing some of her scarlet lipstick. The trace of pink it revealed made him want to reach out and wipe away the rest. He liked his women au naturel, so he could see every blush, every hint of arousal.

  Ash was now staring at him as if he couldn’t quite figure what was going on, and Alle remained in apparent awe.

  “Not to interrupt or anything, but who are you?” Xane stepped in. He was head to foot in black, without a splash of colour anywhere, and looked bloody intimidating when he towered over them. His motion caused Alle to edge away.

  “I’m sorry, didn’t I say. I’m the mastering engineer that’s been hired to fix your song.”

  She was a sound engineer!

  “You’re a sound engineer.” He was glad to see Ash was equally surprised by that fact. Music techs weren’t normally even remotely this cute. On the other hand, that didn’t bode well for his inner balance. As it was, he had to adjust the position of his guitar across his lap.

  Xane scowled. “It doesn’t need fixing. It isn’t broken.”

  “Tidying up, then.” She smiled uneasily at Xane. Scary bastard was intimidating her.

  “It doesn’t need that either.”

  Xane considered the precision of every note and word he wrote. He thought about their image, and meanings and the symbolism of their songs constantly. The man believed in perfection. If he said something was right the way it was, then it was right the way it was, but he didn’t need to be so vehement about it.

  “All it needs is lifting from one source to another.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Ash drove his knuckles against Xane’s broad shoulder, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Lighten up and cut her some slack.” He turned on his mesmeric grin, causing a rosy glow to spread across Alle’s cheeks. “I’m always up for some spit and shine.”

  Xane groaned, but resumed his seat. “I don’t want to know about your dirty habits, Ashley.”

  “Well I think it’s only fair you hear about them, given how much time I have to listen to you splurging your emotional shit. Twenty-three times I had to listen to your ode to Dani yesterday afternoon.”

  Xane’s lyrics were often deeply personal, and the inspiration for his latest song was clearly his new girlfriend.

  “Shut the fuck up.” Xane slowly rotated the ring piercing through the centre of his lower lip, a sure sign that he was irritable.

  “Don’t,” Spook warned Ash when he opened his mouth to make another remark. Things were still tense between them all following Xane’s walk out a few weeks back. Black Halo was only back together now because of the untimely death of their drummer, Steve Matlock. Solidarity, in the face of adversity had seemed the right course at the time, but emotions were running at an all-time high, and Xane’s sense of humour had flat lined.

 
“OK, OK!” Ash raised his hands in surrender. “So, are we working on this track or not?”

  “We are.” Alle took the seat at the main console, necessitating Spook’s need to move if he was going to see what she was doing. Although given the tightness of his fly, that didn’t seem such a grand plan. Maybe he was better off staying put and listening. He didn’t want to give Ash ammunition to rib him with. Because he would, mercilessly. The situation he was in was too unusual not to be comment worthy.

  Xane scooted his chair over to sit beside Alle at the controls. “I suppose Graham gave you the spiel over how it should sound.”

  “He was very particular, yes.”

  “I want you to forget everything he said.”

  Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head to regard Xane. “I’m not really sure I can do that. I did promise him I’d deliver on his wishes.” She fiddled with a couple of the settings.

  “What about our wishes?”

  “Of course, I’ll try and accommodate all your visions too.”

  “Hm.” Xane folded his arms across his broad chest. “Excuse me if I’m unconvinced. I think you’re going to do exactly what Graham Callahan told you to, to the letter, because you haven’t the experience to realise that’s going to result in ear numbing shit that’s been stripped of all its subtleties.”

  “Xane,” Spook snapped. “That’s a bit much.” They didn’t know anything about her. She could be amazing for all they knew.

  She was amazing. That much he could already see.

  “Give her a chance, eh?”

  “Sure. Go ahead. I’ll drop by later to see how it turns out.”

  “You’re not sticking around?” she asked.

  Xane stroked a hand through his long black hair. “I don’t see the point. All you’re going to do is ramp up the volume, squash the shit out of the range and say it’s done never actually having listened to it, same as all the other newbies on the scene. I need to go and talk to Graham about getting us someone with some actual know how.”