34. Sebastion
SEBASTION
TARGET PRACTICE
Ido as I’ve done every other morning since bringing Scarlett to my home; I lie awake and watch her crawl out of my bed.
I pretend to be asleep and smile as she stumbles into a pair of jeans in the shadows.
When she drags an oversized hoodie over her head, I cross my fingers and hope she’ll select one of mine.
I especially like it when she wears my hoodies.
And then I settle in for an hour knowing she’s safe and accounted for, slurping coffee in the kitchen with my dad. While she’s gone, I starfish my bed and take comfort in not having to pin down a woman who suffers a nasty case of restless leg syndrome.
I’ve never been so fuckin’ tired in my life. Never had such disturbed sleep, ever.
I’ve never lain awake and watched a woman sleep the way I watch her.
But none of it means a damn when I sink deep into her tight body and lose myself in a way I’ve never done with anyone else.
It could be fate. It could be a stirring of feelings I’m not entirely ready for.
Or, likely, it’s a matter of I’m fucked.
Proven when, instead of heading out the door and into the hall like she does every other morning, Scarlett searches my room.
She opens and closes drawers in the dark and mutters to herself about guns. And I…
Fuckkkkkk me. I don’t get up and do something about it.
“If you were a Glock 20,” she whispers to herself. “And you were hidden in the bedroom of a man they call Tank, where would you be hiding?”
Dread swallows me up and damn near spits me out. Fear gnaws at my stomach, because why the fuck does she want my gun?
“Shit!” She slams her toe against the leg of a chair in the sitting area. “Dammit! Ouch!”
What are you doing, Princess?
Why are you searching my room?
And why the fuck don’t I sit up and call her out for sneaking?
A phone buzzes near me. In the morning darkness, the buzz sounds like a fuckin’ cannon, and because it does, Scarlett gasps and sprints back to the bed, sweeping the device up before it wakes me, then silencing the buzz until there’s no sound left but for the rapid racing of her breath.
She stands at the side of the bed, staring at me while I use the shadows for cover.
Audibly gulping, she releases a pained whimper, swipes a thumb across her phone screen, then brings the device to her ear and turns away. “Hey, Linc.” She whispers her words, criminally low, and tiptoes around to my side of the bed. “I’m almost ready to go.”
Go where, Scarlett?
“Yeah, I’m looking for his Glock, but I can’t find it. And I can’t turn the lights on without waking him up.”
Lincoln says something back, something short and sharp, which elicits a grunt from his sister’s chest.
“He’s pretty heavily out of it, to be honest. I thought these military types were trained to sleep light?” She bends over behind me, opening my bedside drawer so I feel her warmth beating against my back. “He’d have more than one, right? Surely…”
I have dozens, Princess. Why the fuck do you need one?
“Gah! Not here, either.” Scarlett carefully closes the drawer and steps away, oblivious to my favorite 20 strapped to the side of my bed just inches from her left ankle. “Did you tell Sebastion it was my birthday yesterday?”
She falls silent long enough to hear his answer. Then responds with a bitten, “Because he knew! I didn’t say anything, but after I talked to you, he took me outside and gave me a cupcake.”
Silence, then a melodic giggle. “Yes! A cupcake. It was actually really…” She sighs. “It was pretty sweet. Ya know, for the guy who wants to wring my neck more often than not.”
Kinda wanna wring your neck right now, Princess.
“Dammit, Linc. No, I can’t find any. Maybe I’ll just…
” She comes into view halfway across the room, her trim figure shifting in the shadows.
“I guess I’ll look when I get there.” She bends at the seating area and pulls on a pair of shoes.
One, then the other. Standing tall again, she makes her way toward the door.
“I’ll call you back in a little bit,” she whispers, stopping with her hand on the closed door.
“I can’t very well chat to you while I’m sneaking through this place.
Kinda wanna live long enough to eat another cupcake.
” She glances back in my direction, snickering.
“Yeah. Him, or Mother Dearest. I think he’d at least ask questions first. But she seems pretty keen to use my head as target practice. ”
Lincoln says something. Probably, ‘yeah, Arabella. That bitch!’ In response, Scarlett’s brows pinch tight. “Mills? No, I haven’t talked to him in a few days. Why?”
After listening for a beat, she shakes her head and relaxes. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll call you back in ten, okay? If I don’t, I probably got myself killed.” She giggles. “I’m actually not joking. That woman wants me dead, and she has a bunch of soldiers here ready to follow her orders.”
I catch a barking response from Linc, though I can’t make out each individual word he speaks.
“Sure. Give me ten minutes.” Dragging the phone away from her ear and ending their call, she slips it into her pocket and peeks my way for a long beat.
Two. Three. It almost feels like a goodbye.
Like she feels bad for whatever the hell she’s got planned.
Then, exhaling a breathy sigh, she opens the door and tiptoes into the hall.
The instant she’s gone, I bound out of bed and yank on a pair of pants.
Adrenaline zings in my veins, just like it did that first morning when she snuck out for coffee.
But this is different. This is way fucking worse.
I tug on a shirt and snag my Glock on the run, then I grab my boots and a pair of socks.
I rip my phone off its charger cable and pull up the security feed monitoring this entire estate, then I take five seconds to search the halls and fucking pray, hope, plead with the universe not to see her heading toward my parents’ bedroom.
Or, well, anyone’s bedroom.
Fuck.
I find her in the hall, heading past the kitchen and making her way toward the front of the house, and thanks to the night vision cameras, I see her better now than I did when she was a mere five feet away in here.
I pull on my socks and step into my boots, then bounding across the room, I draw my door open without so much as a creak.
Adrenaline pulses in my veins, thundering in my ears until I’m positive the rest of the world can hear it, but I work on slowing my breath, calming my heart, and, while I have a second, I shoot off a text to the security team and demand turn-by-turn updates.
But I demand they stand the fuck down, too, and pull everyone back from their posts so she gets to wherever she’s trying to go unimpeded.
Fuckkkkkkk.
“Sebastion!”
I spin and meet my mother’s unhappy glare. She wears a pair of my dad’s boots, but the laces are untied. Blue and white checkered pyjama pants, though a thick winter coat covers her top half.
Anger roars in my veins and comes out with a shake of my head.
“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.” I spin on my heels and dash along the hall, darting past the kitchen and into the house’s front entryway.
Silent alarms are already going off, because Scarlett broke the seal without realizing she needed to input a code.
Gritting my teeth, I shut the alarm down and unlock my phone on the fly, then I dial instead of reading my texts and slip through a small gap in the doorway.
“Yes, sir?”
“Let her pass,” I growl. “But watch her. Where is she?”
“Headed north-west, sir. She’s moving quickly, already passed the topmost pool house, and turned at the perimeter security checkpoint.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Okay. I’m following her. Is she armed yet?”
“Armed?” he squeaks. A grown-ass man squeaks, because it’s entirely possible he has an enemy within the walls, and I already told them all to stay the fuck away. Days ago. “Not that I’ve seen, sir. She’s wearing a bulky sweater, so it’s possible she’s—”
“Have you seen her stop and collect a gun since she stepped out of the house?”
“No, sir.” He gulps. “She hasn’t stopped for longer than it takes her to get her bearings.”
“Is she wandering, or walking with a destination in mind?”
“Destination. She’s entering the stables, sir.”
“The stables?” I stumble in place and temporarily lock up my knee. The cold steel of my Glock cools my flesh, while memories of a long afternoon spent with Jasper make my heart swell. Could she be visiting him again? Could it be so innocent?
And why the fuck would she need a gun for that?
“She’s exiting the stables again, sir. In through the east, out through the west.”
I narrow my eyes and continue along the icy concrete surrounding an even icier pool. It’s too cold out here for it not to have a layer at the top, but that layer is so thin, even a small cat would break through if it attempted a stroll across the surface.
“Keep me updated. Perimeter check?”
“Sir, Dayden here.” Another voice fills our call. “Perimeter is secure. Sensors haven’t been disturbed in hours. The skies are clear, and thermals are showing nothing out there that shouldn’t be. Everything appears as it should.”
“Ah, sir?” The first voice, Jaxen, comes back. “She’s entered a tunnel on the west end. It appears she’s headed—”
“Your way.” Dread sits heavy in my belly, like black lava turned cold that still has the power to burn.
“Fuck. Okay.” Instead of following her to the tunnel she entered, I cut left and use a closer entry point, moving down the stairs at a silent jog and entering the dark passageway with just the red-light dots placed strategically far enough apart to provide visibility… minimally.
Why are you headed to the security bunker, Scarlett?
Please, for the love of God, don’t prove my mom right.
Not this time.
“She’s slowing,” Jaxen breathes, like he thinks he has to whisper. “She’s about fifteen feet from… ten feet from… Ah shit,” he gulps. “She’s here, sir.”