35. Knox
KNOX
Having to surveil Sebastian has been…an experience.
I’m not sure if it’s stupidity or just arrogance, but it’s clear the only thing that’s spared this man from natural selection is his money.
Sure, he’s got security working around the clock, but that’s about it.
For the past two weeks, he has been following the same schedule, making no effort to avoid a predictive pattern.
I can tell you down to the minute when he’ll go to the gym, get his morning coffee, go out to lunch, and leave his hotel to party at night.
He doesn’t pay any attention to his surroundings, assuming his security detail will do that for him, but they’re not doing a very good job.
If they were, they would know that Moretti’s men have been following their boss, and they certainly wouldn’t let him go to Vortex.
Yet, here he is for the third night in a row.
When you have money like Sebastian does, it’s easy to make “friends” at the club, but he doesn’t even bother to inform any of these people what he’s doing before he goes wandering off to a dark corner with whatever woman catches his eye.
It’s like he’s never watched the news.
In Sebastian’s world, no one would ever target him.
Bad things apparently happen only to the less fortunate.
Being a Chadwick makes him indestructible.
What a fucking idiot.
I also don’t understand why he ever set his sights on Anna.
It’s obvious he has a type, and she’s not it.
Sebastian is your run-of-the-mill “societal” predator.
He doesn’t rape or beat the women he pursues.
He just goes after the most vulnerable. There are always the girls at the club who you can tell aren’t comfortable being there.
It’s usually because clubbing just isn’t their scene, but while most only go because their friends dragged them, there’s always that one girl who’s just insecure and looking for validation.
Even worse, she’s usually quite pretty, making her the perfect prey for someone like Sebastian.
She wants the attention her friends are getting, and when the man in the designer threads strolls on over, dripping honey into her ear, she becomes putty in his hands.
And that was Sebastian’s first mistake, believing Anna was one of these girls.
From what she’s told me, he did indeed meet her when she was vulnerable, but it was only because she was grieving the loss of her grandmother.
She simultaneously lost her support system and the last member of her family not behind bars.
Anyone would feel vulnerable. That’s just the nature of grief.
But it’s also temporary and not resulting from insecurity. It’s something you learn to cope with so that you can move on.
Sebastian thought he could keep her in that state, make her believe he was her entire world now, make her think she couldn’t live without him.
It may have taken Anna longer with his claws in her, but she did indeed heal. And when that happened, he just couldn’t take it.
He needs to be needed, needs to be admired. He needs a woman to look at him like he hangs the moon and stars in the sky.
And that’s where Ella comes in.
Sweet, innocent, na?ve Ella.
Well, that’s what you would think by looking at her, anyway.
She’s twenty-two years old but barely looks like she should be allowed to have a driver’s license.
The only reason people know Ella isn’t jailbait is because you have to be at least eighteen to get into Vortex, and the bouncers can spot a fake ID from down the block.
Still, she looks like she’s trying to appear older, wearing a little more makeup than necessary and putting her naturally curly hair into a long, complicated, pin-straight ponytail.
It looks like she’s trying to play dress-up.
Ella also has the kind of body you generally associate with runway models. Small chest, small ass, small-boned. She has legs that go on for miles, and in the skyscraper heels she’s wearing, she looks as unstable as a newborn fawn as she downs a shot of tequila at the bar.
Or what Sebastian believes to be tequila.
It’s really a non-alcoholic substitute, and this jackass is none the wiser.
All Sebastian sees is a tipsy girl who looks like she’s trying too hard to fit in.
How do I know all of this? Because I’m watching it all play out on hidden cameras from the safety of a private poker room.
I made sure to get to the club at least a half hour before Sebastian arrived so no one could accuse me of following him here.
And like the predictable asswipe he is, he couldn’t resist getting all up in my business.
As soon as he spotted me, he had to make his presence known, assuming Anna was nearby.
I informed him that no, he wouldn’t be chasing me out of here thanks to his restraining order, because my better half isn’t with me tonight. I still made a show of appearing pissed off, retiring into the back area of the club where Nico holds private gambling events.
And I’ve been sitting in here ever since.
As far as anyone else knows, I’m just quietly sulking with my friends over a few rounds of poker.
What they don’t know is that there’s a false section of the wall that, when pressed in just the right place, swings out to reveal a set of stairs that goes down into the basement.
And what’s in the basement? A hallway that happens to lead into the basement of the business next door, which Nico also owns.
We change out of our clothes in favor of the workman’s uniforms left for us so that we can blend in on our way up the stairs and through the back of the shop.
With our hats pulled down low, we’re not at risk of customers seeing our faces, and a van is already waiting for us in the garage.
It all runs so smoothly that it barely takes four minutes before we’re heading to the destination for our swap meet.
And that’s when apprehension sets in.
Because shit has a way of going awry, and this is going a little too well.
Jax and I continue monitoring the feed inside the nightclub, and we see Ella doing her best doe-eyed damsel impression, “forever grateful” to Sebastian when he steps between Ella and another guy who won’t stop pestering her.
He thinks she’s the moth in this scenario, but he’s about to get a taste of her fire.
The two fall into conversation, and in no time at all, he’s escorting her toward the back hallways. Just like the girl he hooked up with last night, he’s expecting a quickie in the bathroom, but Ella has other plans.
Watching the aerial footage of the hallway, I’d say she seriously deserves an Oscar for her performance, because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was genuinely into Sebastian.
The two are making out the entire way to the bathroom, but she pulls away just as they reach the door, whispering something that can’t be heard over the music.
It takes him about two seconds to consider her proposal before he grabs her hand and directs her toward the employee entrance at the end of the hallway.
The exterior camera shows Sebastian typing something quickly into his phone, but it appears he never hits SEND , because Ella snatches the phone away with a giggle and continues kissing him.
Since he’s not in a suspicious mindset, he doesn’t think twice about it, escorting her to the parking lot.
If, at some point, he manages to text his security during the car ride, it’s not enough time for them to catch up.
The horror that is Sebastian’s bright neon European sports car turns onto Maple Lane, where no other vehicles currently occupy the street.
That tends to happen when a gated community has its own access road, especially this time of night.
The douchebag behind the wheel safely assumes Ella comes from a fair amount of money if she happens to live in Seaworth, and based on the act she put on for him at the club, he believes she’s nothing more than a cloistered daddy’s girl open for manipulation.
Yeah, the dipshit here obviously didn’t bother to ask what her last name is, because if he had, he wouldn’t be feeling so confident right now.
Because Ella Parisi is Nicola Moretti’s cousin.
At the road’s midpoint, Michael has the van parked sideways on the road, blocking both lanes of traffic and forcing Sebastian to a stop. The jackass lays on the horn, and when the van doesn’t move, he puts the McLaren into reverse.
But it’s too late.
Dominic has already pinned him in with another van at the rear.
Again, for the record, Sebastian really doesn’t have survival instincts. It takes him entirely too long to do anything, and when he does, it’s just to grab his phone. He doesn’t even have the sense to call 911, instead dialing for someone named Ken. Likely the head of his security.
Too bad for him we’ve already got a signal jammer set up, leaving him with nothing to do but listen to dead air.
And I wasn’t joking about the Oscar thing. There’s no need to keep up the act, but Ella has gone full-on method, screaming and shrieking like any good damsel would when seeing a masked man emerge from the darkness to shoot out the car’s tires.
Jax keeps the gun trained on Sebastian as he approaches the passenger side, but I’m feeling rather theatrical myself, stepping out onto the road wielding a baseball bat. I whirl it around and mimic swinging it at the car, as if warming up to the act.
“Jesus Christ, just take what you want!” Sebastian yells, rolling down his window far enough to chuck his wallet onto the pavement. When I just wind the bat behind me again, ready to swing, he pulls off his watch and the ring on his thumb. “You know how much these are worth?”
“Not half a million, that’s for damn sure,” Jax drawls, eyeing the luxury wheels.
Shit, is that really what this costs?
Sebastian keeps trying to negotiate his way out of handing over his keys, honestly believing we’re nothing more than run-of-the-mill carjackers under our masks. He gets a rather rude awakening when I smash the remainder of the glass out of the driver’s window and he finally gets a look at my eyes.
Yeah, the fucker clearly thought I was still back at the club.
“Sorry, Bashy,” I croon, pulling out the syringe. “I’m more in the mood to play a game. How do you feel about Operation ?”