Saving Sebastian: A Catharsis Novel (Custos Securities Series Book 3)

by Luna, David

  “Jesus, Bastian. Do you know what’s wrong yet?”

  “Yeah. They’re pinpointing what’s going on. I’m just exhausted and am not feeling up to it tonight. I’m sorry.”

  “Why don’t I come over. I can bring dinner, I can just come see you, make sure you’re okay.”

  His shoulders slumped and he glanced at the tray of plastic hospital food. “I’ve got dinner right here. I’m just going to go ahead and eat and go to sleep early. I’m really sorry, Sir.”

  “It’s all right, boy. I just want you to get better.”

  A tear escaped and he hoped his voice wasn’t too wobbly when he whispered, “Me too, Sir.”

  “Bastian? You okay?”

  He pasted on a smile, hoping it came through on the line. “Yes. I’m fine. I’ll call if I’m going to be unable to make it on Thursday. I’m hoping I’ll be feeling a bit better. Less rundown.”

  “Okay, Bastian. Sleep well. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Sir.”

  He hung up and sat, staring at the wall in front of him, emotion overwhelming him. He knew he’d have to end their contract early. There was no way around it. Things kept getting worse, and he’d need time for his surgical recovery, or at least he hoped he’d get the chance to recover. It was probably for the best. He knew he was in love with his Dom and those feelings would never be returned. He’d been warned from the beginning. He needed to end it, before the pain of losing him became unbearable.

  The next morning finally rolled around, the EEG was taken care of, and a vague conversation concluded with his doctor as well. He had a new appointment to discuss his surgical options in his doctor’s office on Thursday. He got dressed in fresh clothes after taking a shower in the en suite, gently pulled his messenger bag over his head and waited in the chair by his bed until a nurse came in with the dreaded wheelchair. Though in all honesty, his legs were a bit shaky and even with the days in the hospital bed, he was exhausted.

  Sitting in the wheelchair in front of the elevator to go down to the lobby, he heard a familiar voice and his whole body tensed. He surreptitiously tugged up his hood and kept his eyes on his bag. The nurse pushed him into the elevator and turned him around to face the open door. The voices stopped and he saw a pair of feet stop just outside of the elevator door. Not now, please. Not now. He cringed when he heard the confused tone of voice, “Sebastian?”

  Looking up, knowing he couldn’t avoid it, he met Dr. McCade’s gaze and then looked quickly down at his bag again. Things went from bad to worse when Finn said, “Jessie, I’ve got this. I’ll get him down to the lobby for you.”

  “Okay, Doc. Thanks. Bye, Sebastian. Good luck with your surgery!”

  Traitor, he thought, as she walked out of the elevator. And of course, she’d mentioned the surgery. Fuck. He waved halfheartedly at her and glanced at Finn, not knowing what to say. The steady, concerned gaze ripped at something in his chest and he looked away. Finn hit the lobby button and down they went, not saying a word. But instead of wheeling him out of the automatic doors, he wheeled him over to a small, secluded seating area, partially hidden by several potted ficus trees. He turned Sebastian’s wheelchair to face an upholstered love seat and sat opposite him, elbows on his knees, eyes kind, patient as could be.

  He looked away again and finally spoke. “I know you can look up my chart and find out why I’ve been here. I hope you won’t.”

  “Even if it wasn’t against hospital policy to check patients’ charts for your own gain, I wouldn’t do it. It’s only my business if you make it so. I’m worried about you, that’s all. You don’t look well, Sebastian.”

  He shook his head and looked down at his lap, picking at a loose string on his bag. “I don’t want to talk about it yet. If…” He gulped and tried again, finally looking at Finn again. “If I pay you a dollar and ask you to be my doctor, can I ask you to respect doctor/patient confidentiality?”

  The sad look in Finn’s face only made him feel worse. Finn shook his head and Sebastian’s stomach dropped. But the man said, “Sebastian, you don’t need to do that. If you’re asking me not to tell anyone that I saw you, I wouldn’t—”

  “That’s what I’m asking,” he said so forcefully he had to look away in embarrassment as his cheeks flamed.

  “Okay. I won’t tell anyone, Sebastian.”

  He nodded and began to stand. Nearly tripping over the foot rests, his legs wobbly from disuse, Finn caught him easily and helped him gain his footing. He gently extricated himself from the doctor’s hold and made his way around the seating area. He looked back at Finn and said thank you, continuing on his way. He thought he was free until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder by the automatic doors. As he turned, Finn held out his hand, a business card in it.

  “Please, call me if you need anything, all right? No questions asked. Truly. If you need help, I’ll be there.”

  He nodded quickly, took the card and turned away before Finn could see the raw emotion on his face. As he walked outside toward the waiting Lyft car he’d called, he tucked the card into his pocket, realizing belatedly that his contact list was growing fuller. But instead of feeling happy about that, it just made him feel empty and ironically, more alone.

  HANGING UP THE PHONE, GIDEON looked at it in his hand for several minutes. He decided right then to ignore his boy’s wishes and go visit him to see for himself if Sebastian was okay. He knew it wasn’t smart. He knew getting in even deeper with his sub was a recipe for disaster, but over the last several weeks, he’d been pulled from opposite ends of the spectrum so many times he felt like he was experiencing emotional whiplash.

  There was the overwhelming need for him to take care of Sebastian, mentally, physically, and emotionally. And every day that need grew stronger. But there was also a growing desire to keep himself emotionally isolated, knowing he could never offer Sebastian everything he so desperately needed and deserved. He grew increasingly frustrated with the situation, an out of control feeling that he didn’t enjoy one bit. Control was something he maintained in all things and his lack of it, where Sebastian was concerned, grew alarming in its breadth.

  But none of that frustration, none of that desire for distance could have convinced him to stop himself going over to check on his sick boy. Something told him this sickness wasn’t a surprise to Sebastian. The bone-deep weariness, the sadness in his eyes, pointed to him being sidelined by an eventuality he’d seen coming, had in fact, expected. But he couldn’t back that up with fact, it was just a feeling.

  His heart ached for the sweet sub he’d fallen for. He’d had to watch—with barely any information to go on and ever increasing apprehension—his boy’s light slowly dim. His beautiful skin had grown pale, the brightness in his eyes had dulled, the smiles that always lit up his face had decreased ten-fold. He tried to hide it every day, but those fake smiles were miles apart from the genuine grins of happiness he’d gotten at the beginning of their contract.

  He’d decreased their hard and rough play. They still did most of what they’d done before, but he was undoubtedly gentler and less willing to push the boy’s limits, no longer sure where they were anymore and not willing to chance it. His sub still flew, and he was still able to reach his own high, but the energy at which they’d played had flagged. It took much longer to give Sebastian aftercare and he often rested longer afterwards.

  He felt like their scenes had regressed, as they would had they both aged twenty years. He literally had to stop himself from asking the boy personal questions; questions about his health, his life, his family and friends. He had to stop himself from telling him what to do, from calling on his own family doctor, from dialing Finn every goddamn time he visited.

  Was he losing his sub, not only mentally, but physically? It seemed like things started going downhill right around the time of Sebastian’s fall. But he couldn’t be sure of that. Pulling up outside Sebastian’s house, he walked up the steps and knocked on the door. His self-reflection on the drive over having dist
racted him from what he was doing so much he didn’t even remember the drive.

  When no one answered the door, he pulled out his key and opened it. The house smelled a bit stale. The kittens, once so tiny, came running. They were still much smaller than they’d be full grown, but they’d filled out quite a bit, so much so that Gideon laughed as they tumbled over each other, their round bellies showing as they fell over for belly rubs.

  The light was on in the kitchen so he walked that way. There was a plate still out, and a bit of a mess left there, which confused him. Sebastian was fairly tidy and had always picked up after himself immediately. Walking back towards the front of the house he walked quietly up the stairs, not wanting to scare Sebastian, but not wanting to wake him, either. His bedroom however, was empty. The cat’s food dishes in the bathroom filled with three times the food Sebastian normally left out.

  A growing unease took the form of anger, rather than frustration or worry. If he was angry, he wouldn’t be scared for his sub’s wellbeing. If he was angry, he wouldn’t be hurt that his boy had lied to him. If he was angry, he wouldn’t be letting his uncertainty in his standing in Sebastian’s life make him feel out of control. He checked the other bedroom just to be sure he wasn’t going off halfcocked and then got himself the hell out of there, too angry to think clearly, too frustrated to make the call that would clear up any confusion.

  What he wanted to do was drive to the club, find an available sub, and get out his frustrations with a hard pounding until they both came screaming, if only to prove that he could. He scoffed at himself, knowing he’d never do something like that; not to an innocent, unsuspecting sub, and definitely not while he was in a contract. Instead, he forced himself to drive home, slowly, and go about his day, his week.

  When Thursday rolled around, as he suspected, Sebastian called and begged off their plans, claiming he was still sick. And damned if he didn’t sound it, and deep down, Gideon knew that he was, but the fact that he had to wonder if the boy would be home if he went to visit him that night frustrated him no end. Their trust in each other was paramount and he was losing that.

  He wanted, no needed, to give Sebastian the benefit of the doubt, but having him go MIA when he said he was sick and couldn’t come see him was weighing on his mind. Not to mention the fact that he wouldn’t see the boy until the following Tuesday because it was a holiday weekend and they spent those apart.

  He had to slow down and think about his reasons for feeling angry. The only time Boone and any of his other past subs had made him angry was when they were outside of any Dom/sub context. He normally didn’t have that level of emotional involvement with a sub and he knew he’d gotten in too deep. And if he had, what could be said about Sebastian. The boy had been adamant that he wasn’t made for long-term relationships, but if anyone was made for something, that boy was made for someone to love him, deeply, and take care of him.

  He had to remind himself on a regular basis—lest he forget he’d never be the kind of man Sebastian deserved—that he was a killer. For a huge portion of his life he’d been trained and used to kill. It didn’t matter that it was for the government. It didn’t matter that the men—always men, never women or children, his one stipulation—deserved it. It didn’t matter that he’d been ordered to do it.

  Those reasons didn’t matter because when all was said and done, he didn’t regret doing it, he didn’t feel bad about the lives taken, he didn’t think of any of the dead men’s family or friends. When it came down to it, he’d done his job, yes, but there was a part of him, deep down, that might have even begun to enjoy it. And a man that could so easily take a life wouldn’t ever be the type of man that could settle down and make a life with someone else.

  So, instead of spending that evening with his sub, he’d spent it working, and the following night, and a portion of the night after that, as well. And when Teddy Forrester had tried to slip past Khaleo again, on New Year’s Eve—perhaps assuming it would be so busy, he’d be able to enter unnoticed—he’d freely admit to being quite a bit rougher than it probably warranted.

  Dragging him by the collar of his coat to an office just behind Khaleo’s desk and throwing him up against the wall probably shouldn’t have felt so good. But his nerves were raw and working out at Vaughn’s gym, The Knockout, both Friday and Saturday afternoons, sparring with some top-level fighters, had apparently only taken the edge off.

  “Sit down, Teddy.”

  “How dare y—”

  “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear your bullshit.”

  “Who do you think y—”

  “How’s your friend, Teddy? You know, the one that you brought in here? The one who drugged and beat my boy? How’s he faring these days?”

  When the man lost all color at the mention of his buddy that had lost everything in the span of roughly thirty days, including his business, his home, and his wife, Gideon smiled and said, “That’s who I think I am. I also think I’m the man that knows your home address, where right now, your pretty, young, pregnant wife most likely thinks you’re at a business dinner, schmoozing a client. Or was it some other excuse you gave her? You’re aware that the contract you signed here stipulates that it’s my right as the owner to record anything and everything I deem appropriate to record, right?”

  He let that sink in, and when it did, he nodded his head and continued, “That’s right. Now it’s coming to you, isn’t it? And what happens if wife number two finds out about your predilections?” He watched as the man rubbed his shaking hand over his mouth. “Ah! There it is! Yes. That cushy job you have, working directly under her father, the one that allows you to keep her in the style in which she’s accustomed, might not be there, come morning time.”

  “Please… Please don’t… I’ll never come back. I promise. You’ll never see me again.”

  “I know that, Teddy. Believe me, I do. But the thing is, I’m angry that you brought that scum into my house. I’m angry that you felt the need to come back twice now to try to get back into a club that had banned you. And although I care a great deal about all the subs in my club, I’m particularly angry that of all the subs he could have drugged, it was MY boy he did it to. And make no mistake, Teddy, I think you’re equally culpable. So, you gotta ask yourself, was it worth it?”

  “Fuck. No. Look, I’ll do anything. I have a lot of money, and if it’s not enough I have access to more. Please.”

  Gideon made a tsking sound and shook his head. “You’re operating under the false assumption that I need money. You’re also operating under the assumption that my boy is just a boy. But let me tell you who that boy is, he’s everything to me and you invited someone into my house to drug him, to beat him, and if he’d had time, to rape him. It would behoove you to get the fuck outta my club and to stay the hell away. And even if you do all that? I still might pull that trigger.”

  The man was sweating, pale as a ghost, and swallowing convulsively like he was gonna vomit on Gideon’s clean floors. “If I were you, Teddy, I’d clean up my act. I’d stay faithful to your beautiful wife, I’d do my best to become best friends with her dad, I’d do everything I could to be a wonderful father to that baby you’ve got coming. I’d become an upstanding member of the community, one that donates his time and his money. That’s what I’d do… If I were you. Because I’m gonna be watching, Teddy.”

  At that point, all the man could do was nod. After staring at him a minute longer, he grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, pulled him from the room and down the hall to the exit door, tossing him out on his ass, literally.

  Seething, he slammed the door and paced back and forth in the hallway until his heart rate slowed, and his anger receded. Somewhat. Knowing he was going to be at least an hour late for his parents’ New Year’s Eve party, he made his way out to let Khaleo know he was leaving and was in his SUV less than five minutes later.

  The drive to his parents’ house in Sea Cliff was uneventful. His anger had abated, marginally, but he was still
tense and quite honestly not looking forward to a festive holiday party. But it was his family, not to mention Zavier had sent a cryptic text earlier in the day about needing to talk to him at the party later that night, so he’d set it aside for a while and do his best to relax, or at least fake it well enough to avoid an inquisition.

  The white Christmas lights were still up on the outside of the house, the trees, and the shrubs. In the huge bay window to the right of the front door the Christmas tree was still up as well. He parked on the street, to avoid getting blocked in, and got out of the SUV.

  He thought about entering from the front door but decided against it. He’d ease his way in from the side, say hello to Buckley and Thor who were most likely playing together in the backyard. If he was honest with himself, he wished he could stay out back with the dogs and avoid being social altogether.

  He made a kissy noise and both dogs made a beeline from the backyard. Buckley, the more boisterous of the two, planting his paws on Gideon’s hips looking for the first hello. Thor hung back, tail wagging but much more contained, his training obvious. He gave them both some attention and then made his way to the side entrance.

  Hanging his jacket in the mudroom, he walked down the hall and entered his father’s office. He texted his brother to meet him there, and strolled toward his dad’s antique liquor cabinet. Getting out two tumblers, he poured them both two fingers of the aged Macallan Sherry Oak Scotch that was his dad’s favorite. He sat in one of the leather chairs in a seating area in the middle of the room, in front of the large desk his dad sometimes used when he wasn’t in the office.

  He leisurely sipped the whisky, knowing his brother would extricate himself soon enough. One finger down and he heard the door open. Zavier walked in, a much too serious expression on his face for a holiday party, making him sit up and pay attention. He nudged the other tumbler towards his brother as he sat across from him.

  “We think we’ve found him.”