SCARRED
Unlikely Heroes Book 5
Leslie Georgeson
Copyright © 2016 Leslie Georgeson
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author.
* * *
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
About Leslie Georgeson
Other Titles by Leslie Georgeson
Connect with Leslie Georgeson
CHAPTER ONE
He stood at the water’s edge, staring out at the black waves, as the darkness called to him. The wind howled, whipping at his hair. His cocktail shirt billowed out around him. The legs of his shorts flapped against his thighs. Ominous clouds rolled overhead. Lightning flashed down, lighting the dark sky.
Come closer. You know you want to. Just let go and you’ll be free.
Thunder cracked, the sonic boom shaking the earth beneath him.
The clouds opened up. Rain billowed out, heavy and relentless, soaking him to the bone. He tipped his head back, letting the angry torrent batter his face, willing it to wash the ugly scars from his damaged soul.
The waves crashed onto the beach, the water slinking across the sand toward him.
Closer.
Closer.
Like a deadly sidewinder, the water slithered across the wet sand, its tongue flickering out, smelling, searching for him…
He fought the urge to leap back.
The water splashed against his legs, crawling over his bare feet.
The ocean yanked the waves back, sucking the water away from him.
Sucking at his soul.
He took a step toward the ocean, following the water.
Then another.
Take me.
I’m so tired of fighting.
He couldn’t beat the monster. His soul was broken. He was drowning in a sea of despair. There was no fixing him.
I don’t want to give in. But I can’t do this anymore.
If I give in, then he will have won. He will have taken everything from me.
Don’t let him win.
Fight!
He hissed in a breath, fighting against the turmoil that raged inside him as turbulent and unpredictable as the storm outside.
He paused, waves crashing against his legs as the storm roiled around him.
I can’t let him win. I’m not a coward. I don’t want to die.
But what did he have to live for? Nothing.
He had no one.
What are you waiting for? Let the waves take you. Let the darkness smother you. Let yourself get lost in the storm. It’s what you deserve. It’s not like you can be fixed anyway.
He took another step out into the water. More waves crashed around his legs, drenching his shorts, trying to tug him out into deeper water. Just a few more feet and he’d be submerged.
Just a few more feet and he could let go.
Don’t do it. Don’t give up. You can win this.
A faint bark came from the beach behind him.
He jerked around.
Another bark. Louder. Closer.
A black blur raced across the sand.
Shit.
Scar bounded across the beach, his tongue lolling from his mouth. The dog leapt fearlessly into the turbulent water and swam toward him, fighting against the fierce waves that sucked him under.
Damn dog must’ve broken through the screen on the back door.
He couldn’t fool Scar. They were connected in an uncanny way. Two broken souls who’d found and saved each other. When one of them was hurting, the other felt it. Always.
Emotion clogged his throat.
He snagged Scar’s collar, reeled the dog closer before the waves took Scar out to sea. Turning, he strode back toward the beach, fighting against the waves that tugged and pulled, trying to drag him back.
They reached shallower water. He released Scar. The dog jumped up and down excitedly, licking his face, over and over.
A laugh tumbled out. He fell back into the sand, the pressure loosening in his chest.
Ah hell. He couldn’t leave Scar. When he’d rescued Scar six years ago, Scar had also rescued him. It would be selfish and cowardly to leave his best friend.
He sighed, hugging the dog to him.
No matter how bad the pain got...
No matter how much he wanted to just let it all go...
He couldn’t give up.
He couldn’t abandon those who needed him.
He might not win this war, but he couldn’t surrender.
So he would delve deep and find the strength he needed to fight.
And he would keep fighting.
To the bitter end.
CHAPTER TWO
Emily Montgomery never imagined her first day on the job would include violence.
Yet as soon as she drove her Volkswagen Jetta into the parking lot of Scar Animal Rescue, a man came around the building, his head lowered, a black baseball cap pulled low over his face, the bill blocking his eyes and a good portion of his face from her view. A black dog trotted at his heels. Dressed semi casually in jeans and a blue Polo with black tennis shoes, he paused in front of the building and removed a set of keys from the front pocket of his jeans.
A red Camaro screeched into the parking lot, slamming to a halt in front of the building. Three young men vaulted from the vehicle and surrounded the man and his dog. Their stances threatening, they shouted at the man and gestured with their arms. She caught a glimpse of a knife—or was that a gun?—in one of the guys’ hands. The dog bared its fangs, moving to stand protectively in front of his master.
Her heart pounded. Holy crap. What was going on? Should she intervene? How?
She could call the cops.
Emily snatched her cellphone from her purse and dialed 911.
The thugs argued with the man at the front of the building while Emily waited for the 911 operator to answer the phone.
“911 emergency. How may I help you?”
The man in the baseball cap moved swiftly. In an impressive display of self-defense moves and martial arts, he knocked the three men down, a kick to one
’s head, a karate chop to another’s groin area, and a slam of his elbow into the third’s throat. All three men dropped, moaning and clutching their injured body parts. The dog sniffed each man where he lay, then glanced up at his master as if to say, Good job.
Emily dropped the phone and stared. Oh. My. God.
The man in the ball cap lifted his head, glancing her way. His gaze locked on hers through the front windshield of her car.
Emily’s breath caught. She knew that man. Didn’t she? She swore she’d seen him before.
He turned away before she could decide if that were true. Pulling open the door to the building, he went inside, the dog at his heels. She caught a glimpse of a nasty shiner under his left eye before he turned away.
Did the man get into brawls often?
She picked up her phone. “Um, three guys just attacked a man out front of Scar Animal Rescue. But he was able to get away. You might want to send an ambulance.”
She hung up and sat there in indecision. Should she go in? Should she wait until eight o’clock when the clinic opened? She’d arrived fifteen minutes early so she wouldn’t be late her first day. Who was the man who’d entered the building? An employee? The owner? Why did she have the sense she knew him somehow?
Scar Animal Rescue was situated in an older part of town that was zoned both residential and commercial. A house that had been converted to a veterinary clinic, the animal rescue sat next door to a chiropractor. The street behind the building was all residential, older homes in a quiet neighborhood.
Few people were about on this early June morning. No one else had witnessed the incident.
Maybe she should wait in her car for the cops to arrive.
She glanced back at the front of the building. Did she dare venture inside with the stranger? He’d just kicked three guys’ asses. Was he dangerous?
She chewed her bottom lip. The three men in question were slowly rising from the sidewalk, groaning and clutching their injured body parts. Emily pushed the lock button on the side panel of her car. The sound of the locks clicking reassured her.
Emily glanced around warily. Still no one else was about.
A “For Rent” sign in the yard of the one of the houses behind the clinic caught her eye. She snatched a pen from her purse and scribbled down the phone number on a pad of scratch paper. Now that she’d found a job, she would need a place to live. It would save her gas money if she only had to walk across the street to go to work each day. She would call the number later and ask about the place for rent.
A tan-colored sedan pulled into the lot, parking next to Emily’s Volkswagen. The driver’s side door swung open. A woman in her early- to mid-fifties emerged from the car. The woman was stout, about twice the width of Emily’s trim figure, with short blonde hair. She gawked at the three men rising from the front sidewalk. She shook her head and turned toward Emily’s car. She smiled and waved.
A sigh of relief escaped. Another woman’s presence was exactly what Emily needed to help her relax. She reached for the door handle.
Emily shoved her car door open and stepped out.
“Not again,” the woman muttered, shaking her head and scowling as the men made their way to their vehicle.
Not again, what? Were attacks common here? Coeur d’Alene was a relatively peaceful town with a population of under fifty thousand. Emily had assumed the crime rate was low.
“You boys get on out of here. Hurry now.” The woman waved an arm at them. “Or I’ll call the cops.”
Emily stepped onto the sidewalk.
The woman turned toward her. “Hello.” She waited for Emily to reach her. “You must be Emily.” She extended her hand. “I’m Julia, the office manager. It looks like Sebastian had another incident. I hope you didn’t have to witness it.”
Another incident? Emily gently shook the older woman’s hand. “Actually, I did. I just called 911. Who’s Sebastian?”
The men got into their car and screeched out of the parking lot. Julia watched until they disappeared down the road. She turned back to Emily.
“Your new boss. I guess he already went inside?”
Emily’s cheeks heated. Mr. Kick Ass Karate Chop was her new boss?
Holy crap.
She swallowed. “Yeah. He already went in.” Who was he? Suspicion settled into her gut. What was going on? Something about this felt…off.
“Are you the one I talked to on the phone last week?”
Julia nodded. “I am. Sebastian was so impressed with your resume he told me to hire you on the spot.”
Really? Pleasure coursed through her. “Oh, well, thank you.” When Julia had called Emily and told her she’d been chosen, along with another recent graduate, to intern at the veterinary hospital, Emily had been elated. The internship was a trial period for the first year, and if she did well, the owner would consider hiring her on permanently as the second veterinarian. She would work under his tutelage. Once she’d completed her one-year internship and obtained the necessary licensing from the state, she would be allowed to work on her own without supervision.
Emily would have to compete with the other intern, whoever that might be, for the permanent position. Because only one of them would be hired permanently after the internship expired.
Julia smiled. “Sebastian isn’t impressed very often, so you should consider that a compliment.”
Emily’s face grew hotter. “Oh, believe me, I do.”
Scar Animal Rescue was a newer company that rescued dogs and cats and other animals and found them forever homes. Emily had never heard of them until they followed her on Twitter a few weeks ago. The company’s Twitter profile picture was a black American Pit Bull Terrier. Emily was a strong believer in second chances for everything, whether human or animal. So she had happily followed Scar Animal Rescue back. Emily had researched the company but the only information she’d uncovered was that it was owned by “Scar LLC.”
After she’d followed them, they’d sent her a message saying they were looking for interns and would she be interested?
The only interaction she’d had with them had been via the internet and the phone interview with Julia last week. It was the first time Emily had been offered a job without interviewing in person. Though she’d been hesitant at first, now, after meeting Julia, Emily relaxed. They were obviously legit.
When they entered the building, the man, Sebastian, was nowhere to be seen. But the black dog, whom Emily determined was a Pitbull, rushed forward at their entrance, his tail wagging excitedly.
“Good morning Scar.” Julia bent to pat the dog’s head.
Scar? Emily glanced closer at the dog. “Is he the ‘Scar’ in Scar Animal Rescue?”
“He is.” Julia rose and went to sit behind the front desk. She dropped her purse on the desktop, glanced over the countertop at Emily. “Sebastian must have gone in back to feed the animals. We have a busy patient load today. Why don’t you go back and help him? It will be part of your job until we get a new vet tech. We lost ours last week.”
Eager to get started, Emily nodded. “Okay. Which direction?”
Julia pointed to the door on her right. “Through there. It will take you to the kennels.”
“Thanks.” Emily headed for the door. Scar followed her, sniffing at her legs. She paused and lowered her hand to let the dog smell her. She patted his head.
Emily went through the door.
And nearly collided with the firm, jean-clad ass of the man who was bent over a kennel, removing a cat dish.
Her cheeks flaming, she stumbled back. “Sorry.”
He straightened. “No problem. You must be Emily. We’re happy to have you aboard.” He thrust the cat bowl at her. “It’s feeding time. All the animals need food and fresh water. Start with that one.”
His voice was rich, smooth, with a slight smokiness and a soft, lilting drawl, the vowels long and lazy. Definitely southern. Deep south perhaps? Mississippi? Alabama?
“Okay.” Emily tilted her head ba
ck and glanced up into his face. Striking light blue eyes stared down at her from the most beautifully sculpted male face she’d ever seen. Clear and luminous with jolts of white rays in the irises, his eyes were simply…amazing. Mesmerizing. Tufts of black hair peeked out from beneath the ball cap near his forehead and around his ears and the back of his neck. He sported a purplish black bruise underneath his left eye, a small cut on his chin, and a split and swollen upper lip.
Emily sucked in a breath. Oh my God.
She knew that face. Those incredible eyes. She’d seen him on a movie trailer on television that morning.
Holy crap.
She lowered her gaze.
No way in hell was her new boss the actor Sebastian Wolfe.
This guy was just a lookalike. That had to be it.
But he even talked like him with that sexy southern drawl.
And Julia had called him Sebastian.
Emily’s hand shook as she turned away with the cat dish.
Was he really Sebastian Wolfe?
“I’m sorry you had to witness that little scuffle out front this morning,” he said in that lilting drawl. “Since we are an animal rescue, we occasionally get pissed off assholes who want their dogs back after law enforcement has confiscated them. Those kids were punks who thought they could intimate me into handing their dogs over to them. Unfortunately, a good portion of the animals we rescue have to be euthanized, fighting dogs in particular. Euthanasia is something you’ll have to get used to if you want to work here.” He opened the next kennel which contained a baby skunk.
Reaching in, he pulled out a small feeding tray. The skunk, surprisingly, didn’t attempt to spray him. It just sniffed at his hand, then scrambled back into the corner.
Emily cleared her throat. “So, do you, um, get into brawls often?”
He latched the skunk’s cage and turned back to her, motioning to his face. “You’re referring to these? I was in an accident last week. The air bag smacked my face.” He grimaced.
“Oh.” She lowered her gaze. A car accident? Why hadn’t she thought of that?
“I’m Dr. Wolfe, by the way.” He extended his hand.
She placed her hand in his. His handshake was firm, his palm warm, lightly calloused. She hadn’t expected that from an actor. What had she expected? Soft, pampered hands, rich with expensive moisturizer? Her cheeks heated.
Scarred (Unlikely Heroes Book 5) Page 1
