She glanced toward the closed bathroom door, then snatched the mask up. Emily held it up to her face. Two eyeholes. An elastic band that secured it around the wearer’s head. She glanced in the mirror that hung above the dresser, held it up to her face again.
A banded mask, it left the lower half of the wearer’s face bare. Like a bandit would wear. Like a…raccoon.
Why would Sebastian have a raccoon mask in his duffle bag? Was it a souvenir from one of his movies? She didn’t recall him playing a bandit in any of his movies.
The bathroom door jerked open.
Crap!
Emily flicked the raccoon mask toward his duffle bag. It landed on the edge, then fell to the carpet.
She’d been caught snooping through his things.
Her heart pounding, she slowly lifted her gaze to his.
Sebastian stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist. He stared at her. He didn’t move. His gaze flickered to the duffle bag and the mask lying carelessly next to it, then back to her.
Crap. What could she say that would excuse her snooping in his bag?
I wasn’t snooping. Not really. It just didn’t look like it belonged there. My curiosity got the best of me.
It was snooping.
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to snoop. It just…didn’t look right, so I picked it up to see what it was.”
He moved then, striding across the room toward her. Bending, he snatched up the mask and stuffed it back into his bag.
“I didn’t want you to find out about that.”
Why not? What was he hiding?
She stared at him, but he avoided her eyes.
“What…is it?”
A loud pounding came from the front of the house. The doorbell shrilled, over and over. “Fuck.” Sebastian swung away from her. “You have to hide, Emily. That’s probably Travis. Get in the closet. Quickly. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
I shouldn’t have brought you here.
What was going on?
She cleared her throat. “Who’s Travis?”
He sighed. “My father.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not hiding in your closet! I’m not scared of your father.”
He turned on her, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring. He was pissed. “You’d better be. He’ll chew you up and spit you out so fast you won’t know what happened. If you don’t hide in that fucking closet, he will hurt you. Is that what you want?”
What was the matter with him? Why was he acting like this?
Had he been expecting his father all along? Was that why he’d come to L.A.? What was really going on here? What hadn’t Sebastian told her?
And what was with the raccoon mask?
I didn’t want you to find out about that.
What did that mean?
Sebastian yanked a pair of shorts up his legs, letting the towel fall to the floor, then strode from the room without a backward glance.
Emily snatched up her clothes and darted for the closet.
The closet was a huge walk-in closet with numerous rods and hooks for hanging clothes, shelves for shoes, and little compartments for smaller things. A woman’s dream closet. But it was nearly empty. Sebastian chose to live out of his duffle bag instead of using this beautiful closet. He didn’t even wear expensive designer clothes. His preferred attire was Polo shirts or cocktail shirts with jeans or, lately, shorts. But she had to admit the Polos and jeans looked damned good on him. Sebastian looked good in anything he wore.
If I had a closet like this, I’d fill it up with beautiful clothes, lots of shoes…
Emily sighed and slipped inside, closing the door behind her.
Faint voices came from somewhere in the house. The voices grew louder, closer.
Emily quickly dressed and pressed her ear to the door.
“Where’s the woman?”
She jerked away from the door, her heart hammering. They were in Sebastian’s bedroom, right outside the closet door. Crap.
“She’s not here. She went down to the beach.” Sebastian’s voice.
“Not here, huh? You sure she ain’t hiding in the closet?”
The closet door swung inward. Emily leapt back with a soft yelp. Her heart pounding, she stared up at the stranger who strode boldly into the closet. He was tall like Sebastian, but wider in the shoulders, stockier. Dark hair like Sebastian’s, though much longer, curling in an unkempt manner about his shoulders. Light blue eyes like Sebastian’s, though this man’s eyes were mean and filled with a cunning that unnerved her. His face was weathered and rough-looking. She guessed him to be in his early to mid-fifties. He reeked of cigarette smoke. Emily wrinkled her nose and took a wary step back.
“Well, fucking A, Sebastian! Where’d you find this hot little tamale?” The man leered down at her, his rancid breath making her cringe away. “Why you hiding in the closet, sweet thing?” His voice was deeper than Sebastian’s, rougher, his accent heavier than Sebastian’s, laced heavily with the “hillbilly dialects” Sebastian had trained out of his own speech. Though Sebastian’s speech still contained the lilts and drawls of the region where he’d grown up, his words were smooth and cultured, not crass and rude like his father’s. It wasn’t Travis’s speech that offended Emily, but Travis himself.
Emily shivered in revulsion. Her skin crawled at the lascivious look in his eyes. This creep was Sebastian’s father? No wonder Sebastian had changed his name. She wouldn’t want anyone to know if this man was her father either.
She glanced behind him to where Sebastian stood, unspeaking.
Was she supposed to answer him? Sebastian wasn’t helping at all. He just stood there, saying nothing, no emotion on his face.
He’d gone into acting mode. He’d shut himself off.
“Let me introduce myself, Sweet Cheeks. I’m Travis Wade, Sebastian’s dad.” He held out a hand in greeting.
Emily ignored his outstretched hand. She took another step back. No way in hell was she touching him.
Travis narrowed his eyes. “Don’t get all high and mighty with me, bitch. If you can spread those pretty thighs for Sebastian, you can do it for me too. He ain’t no better than me. He may be younger and prettier and have a college education, but the apple don’t fall far from the tree, you know.”
He moved suddenly, snagging a handful of Emily’s hair. She gave a startled yelp before he slammed her back against the closet wall and rubbed his body crudely into hers. “How about you give me some of that sweetness between your legs?”
Sebastian darted behind him, a flash of movement that Emily barely registered before his arm snaked around Travis’s throat. Travis gasped, choked.
Emily blinked.
And Travis was gone.
Her heart pounding, Emily sagged back against the wall and stared, wide-eyed, as Sebastian dragged his father away. With his arm tight around Travis’s throat, Sebastian steered him out of the closet and slammed the door behind them.
Her legs trembling, Emily slid to the floor.
Oh. My. God.
Her breaths came in quick pants and she forced herself to relax, to slow her breathing into a normal rhythm.
Sounds of a scuffle came from the bedroom.
Grunts. Bangs. Curses. Thuds.
Then…silence.
Emily tensed, waiting. Should she go out there? See if Sebastian was okay?
“Okay, boy, you win. You win! I give. Don’t break my fucking arm. I won’t touch her.” Travis let out a high-pitched squeal. “Please! Don’t break my arm!”
A crashing sound followed.
Then Sebastian’s voice, “If you touch her again, you’re dead. She’s not a cheap whore, you son-of-a-bitch. She’s not for sale.”
“They’re all for sale.”
Travis let out another loud squeal. Had Sebastian pinned him to the floor or something?
“Okaaay! I won’t touch her. As long as you do what you’re told.”
/> More silence.
“You taking her to the fight tomorrow?”
“No.” Sebastian’s voice was cold, emotionless.
Fight? What fight? Emily’s heartbeat accelerated. What was going on? She crept toward the closet door. She wasn’t about to be left in the dark anymore. Damn Sebastian. What was he keeping from her?
She pulled the closet door open.
Sebastian and his father stood in the center of Sebastian’s room, several feet apart, eyeing each other warily.
Both men glanced at her as she stepped out of the closet.
Travis chuckled. “Does she know you’re the Raccoon? Do you wear the mask while you’re fucking her?”
Sebastian moved swiftly, knocking Travis to the floor. He knelt over his father, his forearm pressed into Travis’s throat. “One of these days I’m going to kill you.”
Travis gurgled against the pressure on his throat. “You don’t have…the balls…to kill me.” His voice was hoarse. “Besides…if you did, the boy would die. I gave instructions…that if anything happens to me, to take him out.”
Sebastian released him abruptly and rose. His gaze darted to Emily, then away.
Emily had never seen this side of Sebastian before. Cold. Lethal. Unfeeling. She’d glimpsed a certain detachment in him the day he’d had to fire Peter from the clinic, but nothing like this.
How much did she really know Sebastian? She’d spent three days in his house with him, most of that time making love.
But she didn’t know this cold stranger. Was he simply acting in front of his father? Or was this a side of Sebastian he kept hidden most of the time? A side he hadn’t wanted her to know about? Was this the “demons” he’d mentioned? Taking over him?
A chill crept down her spine. She didn’t like this Sebastian. He frightened her. Where was the tender, caring man who’d made love to her in this very room?
And what was the Raccoon? What was the mask for?
Travis rose from the floor, his gaze on Sebastian. He pulled a cellphone from his pocket and swiped the screen. Sebastian remained tense, unmoving, while Travis called someone.
“I need you in here, pronto. Sebastian needs a little persuasion.” Travis stuffed the phone in the front pocket of his faded jeans. His gaze swept over Emily, his lips curling in a leer.
“You ever seen my boy fight, Sweet Cheeks?”
Emily forced herself to be brave. Forced herself to meet the man’s gaze. “Don’t call me that. It’s insulting.”
Travis snickered. He glanced at Sebastian. “She’s a sassy bitch. I like that.”
Sebastian’s gaze narrowed, his eyes turning icy cold. He didn’t speak.
Travis shrugged and turned back to Emily. “Well, if you ain’t seen him in action yet, you really should. I guarantee it’ll make your panties wet.”
Sebastian tensed.
A door slammed from somewhere in the house. A male voice called, “Where you at, Trav?”
“The end of the hall!” Travis shouted. He leered at Emily one more time before turning back to Sebastian. “You ready to go, boy?”
Sebastian didn’t move. He and Travis locked stares.
A big, hulking man strode into the room. Bald head. Hard, black eyes. Emily guessed his age at fifty or so. He held a handgun in his right hand. Travis waved the thug at Sebastian.
The man hurried forward, keeping the gun pointed at Sebastian. “Boss says it’s time to go. Don’t make me hurt the girl.”
Sebastian remained rooted to the spot, his body tense.
Travis sighed. “You want to take her along?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the hold-up, boy? We’ve got some final preparations to make before the fight. I need you there. Let’s go.”
The thug shoved the gun into Sebastian’s back, pushing him forward. “You heard the boss, let’s go.”
His steps reluctant, Sebastian moved forward. He bent to snatch up his shoes, socks and a shirt, then walked toward the door.
Emily’s heart raced. She couldn’t let them just take Sebastian away.
“Sebastian?”
He paused, but he didn’t turn back around. “Go home, Emily.”
He disappeared down the hallway with his father and the man with the gun. Moments later the front door slammed.
Emily stood there in the silent, empty room. What should she do? Sebastian had just been kidnapped. Hadn’t he?
She needed to go to the police. But before she did, she needed to know what the hell was going on.
The Raccoon. She needed to find out what the Raccoon was.
Travis had also talked about a fight tomorrow night. And something about a boy. He’d asked Emily if she’d ever witnessed Sebastian fighting. Was Sebastian some kind of underground fighter? Wasn’t that illegal? He’d said his father was a gambler and underground fighting was one of his favorite things to bet on.
She snatched her cellphone from the nightstand and did an internet search for underground fighting. A few links came up, but nothing that was very useful. All she discovered was that unlicensed fighting was illegal, but underground fight clubs were popular and widespread in America.
If Sebastian was involved in illegal underground fighting, why?
She typed in “Raccoon underground fighter.”
Numerous links came up, most toting praise for the legendary fighter’s unrelenting “submission holds that always result in a tap-out.” The word “legendary” pulsed out at her like a spotlight on a dark night. He must have been doing it for awhile to be “legendary.” Was Sebastian that good?
Other articles bashed him, saying he was “scrawny” and someday a bigger dude would “wriggle out of a submission hold” and take down “the six-foot-one, one-hundred and eighty-five-pound Raccoon in a sweeping blow.”
Emily took offense to that. Sebastian definitely wasn’t scrawny. He was wiry. Well-muscled. Sexy as hell. In her opinion, big and bulky wasn’t attractive. She loved Sebastian’s lean, hard, toned body.
So submission holds were his specialty. Knowing Sebastian as she did, that made sense. He wouldn’t be one for beating on someone, but rather, he would try to take them out with as little effort and as minimal pain as possible.
Her heart twisted. Knowing Sebastian, he wouldn’t like to fight any more than he had to. So why was he doing this?
Oh Sebastian, what does your father have on you?
She went through several more links, but couldn’t find a photo of the mysterious “Raccoon” anywhere.
Then, at last, she found a link with a grainy picture. Emily clicked on the photo. The Raccoon was wearing the banded mask, his face blood-smeared and sporting multiple cuts. He must have taken a beating. Dressed in a tank top and black boxing shorts, he stood in some type of fighting ring. It wasn’t a close-up picture, but far away, as if the photographer had secretly snapped the photo from a distance. The mask disguised his identity perfectly. Emily wouldn’t have known it was Sebastian if she didn’t know his features so well. And even then, she probably wouldn’t have recognized him except for the fact she’d seen the mask.
“Undefeated underground fighter is set to fight again Saturday night at a secret location.”
Undefeated? How long had he been doing this?
Then it struck her.
The shiner under his eye, the cuts on his face when she’d first met him...Those weren’t from a car accident. He’d gotten them in a fight.
Oh Sebastian. Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you tell me?
She read a couple more links, but could find no more photos of the Raccoon. She set her phone back on the nightstand, contemplating. Her gut told her Sebastian wasn’t doing this willingly. That his father was making him. If the guy Marty hadn’t shoved a gun in Sebastian’s back, Emily doubted Sebastian would have gone with them.
So how did she help him? How did she free him from the hold his father had on him?
Craig.
Yes, of course!
Sebas
tian’s friend Craig worked for the FBI. Craig would know what to do.
But would he turn Sebastian in? Would Sebastian go to jail?
Indecision clawed at her. She couldn’t be the one responsible for sending Sebastian back to prison. He’d come too far to go back there. Especially if he was being forced to do something illegal.
But she couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.
If Craig was truly Sebastian’s friend, he would help him. He had to.
But how did she contact him?
Emily glanced around. Sebastian’s cellphone sat on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. They hadn’t given him the chance to grab it before they’d ushered him out.
Maybe Craig’s number would be on it.
Emily rushed around the bed and snatched up the phone. She took a deep, calming breath, then scrolled through his contacts.
Craig Rawlings.
There it was.
Emily tapped the “call” icon.
It rang once, twice.
Craig’s deep, rumbling voice came over the line. “Hey Sebastian. What’s up?”
Emily cleared her throat.
“It’s, um, Emily. Sebastian’s friend. He needs your help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I must say, Sebastian, that’s one fine piece of ass you’ve got back at your house. Why won’t you let me play with her?”
Sebastian ground his teeth together. “Because she’s not a fucking toy.” His father treated all women like property, like toys to play with and discard. It sickened him. It always had. His father sickened him. Always would.
Travis quirked a brow. “Oooh wee! Ain’t you Mr. Sensitive today! You’re just upset because I interrupted your little par-tay.” Travis smacked his lips together and chuckled. He glanced across the SUV to Marty, who was driving. “We almost there?”
“Few more minutes. They want to do the weigh-in at seven.”
Travis glanced at his watch. “We’ve got plenty of time then.” He turned back to Sebastian, who was in the backseat. “Your weight on target? Can’t have you getting too skinny or you’ll get your ass kicked.”
Scarred (Unlikely Heroes Book 5) Page 21
