She quirked a dark brow, planted a hand on her hip. “Men who sleep with lots of women have issues with commitment. They are unable to form lasting relationships, unable to grow attached to anyone. Do you deny it?”
He squirmed uncomfortably. “No, but that was before–”
“Doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “It’s still true, right? Like I said, I won’t be one of your floozies.”
He sighed. God, she made him sound like a callous bastard who bedded women and tossed them aside without a care for their feelings. Her assessment wasn’t that far off. He used to do that. But the women had always been willing. Was he really unable to form attachments, lasting relationships? He’d never thought about that before. He’d never cared to. Because he’d known he didn’t deserve love or happiness. And if he cared for someone or something, it would be taken away.
“I’m not like that anymore. I’m different now. That was before I went to prison. I’ve changed…so much that I don’t even know who I am anymore.” His face heated at the confession.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’m fucking lost.” He lowered his gaze, rubbed a hand over his face.
She knelt on the ground beside him. “And it all boils down to that painful thing that eats at you. If you talk about it, you’ll be amazed how easy it is to let it all go.”
If you knew what ate at me, you’d stay far, far away.
He snorted. “Easy for you to say. You’re not tainted by horrible things, damaged like me. You have no idea what’s it like.”
What the fuck? That had sounded like an oh-poor-pitiful-me cry for help. He’d never been one to ask for help. Yet he’d lured her here, and why, if not for her help?
She grabbed his chin and turned his face toward her. His pulse quickened. His skin heated beneath her touch. Their gazes locked. Her touch—her very presence—spread warmth under his skin, into his soul, pushing the coldness aside. She made him yearn for something he’d never had before, something he couldn’t quite name, but was certain he didn’t deserve.
She was somehow melting the wall of ice around his heart. Thawing him. Making him feel.
He stared into her eyes. If he leaned forward, he could press his lips against hers, taste her sweetness. Suck some of her goodness into him.
No touching, you idiot.
“You know nothing about me, Sebastian. I happen to be speaking from experience.”
She released his chin and rose to her feet.
What?
No.
Shock reverberated through him. He didn’t want to believe she was damaged too. She couldn’t be. She was too sweet. How could she have suffered something horrible yet still remain so sweet and pure? It wasn’t possible. It didn’t make sense. She had to be lying.
“If you’re damaged inside, then how can you be so sweet?”
Her gaze met his. “Because I fought off my demons. I didn’t let them take over. I won.”
He sucked in a breath. She was telling the truth. What had happened to her? How had she healed?
“What happened to you?” His voice came out hoarse, strained.
She shook her head back and forth. “Oh no. I’m not telling you what happened to me until you decide to open up and tell me what happened to you.”
He groaned and shoved himself to his feet. She was messing up his plan. He was supposed to be the one controlling everything. Not her. Goddammit!
She took a wary step back.
“That could take weeks, Emily. Months.”
She held his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere. When you’re ready to talk, come see me. Bye.” She spun around and headed toward the basement apartment.
It would be awhile, maybe never, before he was ready to talk. She had to know that.
But she’d said she wasn’t going anywhere. She had offered a listening ear.
How he longed to talk to her, to tell someone who wouldn’t judge him…
He watched while she unlocked the door and went inside, closing the door behind her.
With a sigh, Sebastian headed for the front door of his house.
Fuck the plan.
She was screwing everything up.
And he had no idea what to do about it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emily slept very little her first night in her new apartment beneath Sebastian’s house. Though he wasn’t noisy, occasionally she would hear a sound from upstairs that reminded her he was up there.
Alone.
Except for his dog.
And probably hurting.
She shoved the guilt aside. She would not feel guilty for marching off like that. If he expected her to tell him her secrets, he would have to share first. She’d never shared her painful secret with anyone except her counselor. Her father had forced her to go to counseling, which, once she’d finally opened up, had helped her to heal. If Sebastian was curious about her past and did some research, he might find out what had happened to her. It had been big news for her small town back then.
But she’d survived. She was no longer ashamed. She would never be a victim again.
She finally dozed off around one o’clock, only to be awakened abruptly sometime later by the sound of a door slamming somewhere outside.
She jerked upright in the bed, her eyes wide.
Raised voices came from right outside her apartment.
Then the unmistakable growl of a dog.
Scar?
Emily leapt out of bed and raced for her door. She pulled it open a crack and peered out.
A motor rumbled to life. Car doors slammed. Tires screeched as a vehicle sped off down the street.
The streetlight on the sidewalk out front lit up the yard enough for her to make out the figure of a man standing several feet away, his back to her.
He jerked toward her, as if he’d sensed her presence.
“Go back inside, Emily. It’s not safe out here.”
“Sebastian?” She stepped out onto her tiny square concrete porch, wrapping her arms around herself. She was dressed in only her thin nightshirt. She hadn’t thought to grab a robe. “What’s going on?”
He walked toward her, and as he drew near, she was able to make out the anguish on his face. “Sebastian? What is it?”
He stopped in front of her. He wasn’t wearing the baseball cap, his dark hair tousled and oh-so-sexy, just begging her to run her fingers through it.
God, Emily. This isn’t the time for fantasies.
“Those punks took Scar hostage. They said I could have him back when I handed over their dogs.” His gaze raked her from head to toe, making her cheeks heat, making her wish she’d put a robe on before venturing outside. “But I already euthanized the one dog, and sent the other with Carol to be rehabilitated.” He turned away from her. “Fuck.”
Emily’s heart dropped.
“How did they get Scar? Did they break into your house?”
Sebastian sighed. “No. I was out walking him. I have insomnia, so I walk him at night when everyone else is asleep. They must have been watching the house, waiting…”
The overwhelming urge to comfort him came over her again. She didn’t know what it was about him that made her want to help him, but the feeling, the urge was so strong she couldn’t ignore it.
She touched Sebastian’s arm. His muscles tightened beneath her fingers, revealing the coiled strength hidden just beneath the surface. He was on edge, fighting a turmoil that she could only guess at.
If someone had kidnapped her pet, she’d be upset too.
He jerked his gaze back to hers. But he didn’t pull away. Gradually, she felt the tension leave his body.
She gently squeezed his arm. “Why didn’t you use your karate chop skills to get him back?”
He snorted. “Karate chop?”
Emily shrugged. “Whatever it is you do.”
He scowled. “Because they had guns. If I fought back, they would’ve shot Scar.”
The tension returned, his muscles tightening again. She
wanted to help him, but didn’t know how.
“Will they hurt Scar?”
He closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh. “I hope not. Scar’s been through enough as it is.” He turned away from her, pulling his arm out of her grip. “Go back inside. There’s nothing you can do.”
She stared after him as he headed across the lawn.
He’s so alone.
She was unsure where that had come from or why she even sensed it, but it she had no doubt it was true. Sebastian was all alone in the world.
Not anymore. I’m here now.
She couldn’t let him deal with this alone. He needed someone to help him.
She raced after him.
“Sebastian, wait.”
He stopped abruptly and turned around.
“I know you think you’re alone in the world, but you’re not,” she whispered. “I’m here now. I’ll help you in any way I can. I promise. You’re not alone.”
She reached for his hands, grabbing them and squeezing them in hers, trying to offer comfort. His entire body stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. He just stood there and stared down at her, his eyes shuttered, his face expressionless.
Though Emily was normally a guarded person, she’d always been sensitive to others’ feelings, and she felt Sebastian’s pain more strongly than she had anyone else’s before. She couldn’t deny the strong pull that drew her toward him. He needed someone. With Sebastian, she didn’t feel the need to stay guarded, perhaps because she sensed the good in him. A man who rescued abused and neglected animals had to have goodness inside.
Something in him called out to her, begging for understanding…begging for…help.
Touching him, wanting to comfort him, came to her without question. He was a lost, damaged soul. She’d once been a lost, damaged soul. She couldn’t deny the compelling need to want to help him.
“What can I do to help, Sebastian?” She released his hands and stepped back.
His eyes changed, filling with sadness. He heaved out a sigh.
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I want to help.”
He made a strangled sound in his throat. Wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, he drew her closer. “You,” he whispered hoarsely, staring into her eyes. “That’s what I need. You.” He trailed his other hand down her back, resting it on her hip briefly. Then lower, he stroked down her butt and paused on the back of her bare thigh, his fingers heating her flesh.
She shivered.
But not with cold. With a fierce longing that terrified her.
Her heart pounded.
She tried to ignore the way his hand felt on the back of her leg, the way her skin tingled beneath his touch. But it was impossible.
She drew in a sharp breath. “I already told you I wasn’t going to sleep with you.” Her voice sounded weak. Only half-convincing.
He stroked his fingers through her hair.
Stroked his thumb across her thigh.
Her pulse quickened. Her eyelids drooped.
Stop this, Emily! Don’t be a fool!
“I never said anything about sleeping.” His voice was husky, alluring. His breath teased her lips…so close.
She swallowed hard, drew in a shaky breath. “Sebastian, please...”
He released her and she stumbled back, her face on fire.
He sighed and lowered his gaze. “Fuck. You’ve bewitched me somehow. I can’t get you out of my head. If I hadn’t been so distracted a moment ago, thinking about you, wondering about that secret you won’t tell me about, they wouldn’t have been able to take me by surprise.” He groaned.
Her cheeks grew warmer. He’d been distracted by thoughts of her? Something unexplainable curled in her stomach, spreading outward, pounding through her veins and heating her blood. She cleared her throat.
“So what are we going to do about Scar?”
His gaze darted back to hers. A gleam entered his eyes. “Those idiots parked right under the streetlight.”
She held his gaze. “What does that mean?”
“It means I got their plate number. I’m going to get Scar back.”
“Wait. What? Right now?”
He paused. “Yes. Right now I have the element of surprise. I’ll search the plate, and if it isn’t stolen, hopefully it will lead me to the address where they’ve taken Scar.”
She stared up into his face. “Be careful.”
His lips twitched. “Go inside and lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me. It’s not safe right now. If I’m not back by morning, call the cops.”
She squeezed his hand. “Please come back. We can’t run the clinic without you.”
He jerked his head in a quick nod. “Now go inside. I’m going to get my dog back. I’m going to teach those punks a lesson.”
* * *
Sebastian had an online account with the DMV for just this type of thing. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to find someone who’d threatened or harassed him. He had no doubt it wouldn’t be the last. Such was the price he paid for being famous. He didn’t like to involve the cops in these things. Not unless he had to. Cops only made it worse.
He logged into the site with the I.D. he’d been assigned, then typed in the license plate he’d memorized. The vehicle description matched the red Camaro the punks had taken Scar away in. It was registered to a James Olsen at an address on the other side of town.
He logged off the computer and typed the address into his phone GPS.
“I’m coming for you, Jimmy boy,” he whispered as he left the house. Pulling a black ski mask over his head, Sebastian entered his garage. He rarely used the ski mask, but he kept it on hand for situations such as this. He didn’t think the punks knew who he was or they probably would have demanded a ransom for Scar’s return. The ski mask would protect his identity.
He opened the swan-wing door of his black BMW i8 sports car and slid behind the wheel. Grabbing a couple of zip ties from the glove box, he stuffed them into the back pocket of his jeans. He never knew when he might need to restrain someone and zip ties made excellent handcuffs, so he always kept some on hand.
Ten minutes later, he was slowly cruising the street out front of the house where James Olsen lived. The red Camaro was parked in the driveway. Stupid punks thought they could steal his dog and get away with it. He couldn’t believe they’d gone straight home. How arrogant of them to assume he wouldn’t track them down.
Sebastian parked under a dark area of the street a few houses down. He exited the vehicle and silently approached the house. It was in a run-down side of town, an area people tended to avoid at night. No one was about.
The houses on either side of James Olsen’s house were dark. Either the residents were asleep, or the houses were vacant. By the looks of the dilapidated buildings, Sebastian guessed they were vacant. Olsen lived in a secluded area where he could conduct his illegal drug deals and dog fighting without anyone knowing. How had the punk gotten off so easily? Sebastian guessed he’d somehow posted bail.
Adjusting the ski mask on his head, he crept around the back of the house. Voices came from inside. Sebastian hunkered down beneath an open window and listened.
“The dog’s got old scars, look at him. He was a fighter once. Let’s see what he’s got. Maybe we’ll just keep him.”
Sebastian cringed. No fucking way. No one was hurting his dog. Scar was the only thing he’d allowed himself to care about since he was a kid. He and Scar were two similar souls. They understood each other. After what they’d been through together, they both knew there were times when they had to fight, even if they didn’t want to.
Times such as now.
If these bastards thought they were going to force Scar to fight another dog, they had better think again.
“Go get Spartacus,” the voice said from inside the house. “See if this dog will fight back.”
Sebastian’s heart pinched.
Hell no.
Sebastian slipped quietly toward the back door. He
waited, listening.
Footsteps on wood. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Someone hurrying down to a basement. That was probably where they kept their dogs, hidden in the basement.
Faint barking.
Whining.
Footsteps again. Slower. Coming up the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump.
More whining. He imagined an excited dog pulling at its leash, trying to break free.
Whoever had gone downstairs was bringing a dog up with him.
Sebastian reached for the doorknob on the back door.
Locked.
The door was old faded wood with long rectangular sidelights that ran up either side of the door. Sebastian glanced around for something to break the glass with. He found a rock at the base of a shrub and came back to the door. Slamming the rock into the sidelight, he broke through the glass. He quickly reached in and unlocked the door. The noise was bound to alert someone of his presence.
Cautiously, he pushed the door open.
Light from the hallway spilled into the room, lighting it just enough for him to see by.
A snarl came from his left, just inside the door. As much as Sebastian loved animals, he hated fighting dogs. They were unpredictable. Dangerous. Because their human owners made them that way.
He lifted a hand to cover his face as the beast leapt at him. The dog’s fangs gnashed through the air just inches from his face.
Rolling away and hunkering behind the table, Sebastian glanced around. He was in a small kitchen. He snatched up a chair from beside the table and kept it between him and the dog. The beast snarled again and lunged.
Sebastian lifted the chair and knocked the animal aside.
Footsteps pounded into the room. The light clicked on.
A gangly Hispanic man in his early twenties came to a halt in the kitchen doorway. His gaze locked on Sebastian.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Your worst nightmare.”
The beast came at him again. Sebastian slammed the chair at the dog. The animal yelped and fell back, limping away. It didn’t try to attack a third time.
The man lifted a gun and pointed it at Sebastian.
Sebastian leapt at the guy, kicking the gun aside. He wrapped his arm around the guy’s throat and locked him in a choke hold. The man struggled, but Sebastian held tight, slowly squeezing off the guy’s oxygen. He wouldn’t kill him, just knock him out.
Scarred (Unlikely Heroes Book 5) Page 6
