Page 52 of Blackmail
On my way out the door, I clean the cage in record time and make a hurried excuse to the volunteer coordinator. I try not to think too hard about what I’m doing the entire drive to meet Sebastian.
Belle Argo vet clinic sits adjacent to an abandoned church, in a single-story L-shaped building on the far north of town. I find Sebastian in the waiting room, his tailored suit covered in mud and a filthy, skeletal dog in his lap. The dog’s fallen asleep, which is probably a good thing because he’s got a gash on his hip and one back paw pulled protectively against his body, and he’s soaking wet.
“You want me to hold him?” I’m wearing the same ratty old scrubs I always wear when I volunteer at the kennels, not a suit that probably costs more than my car.
Sebastian seems surprised when he glances down at himself. “It’s fine. I’m already dirty. That’s what dry cleaning is for.”
“I don’t know jack about dry cleaning, but this looks like more than the usual pit stains and a splash of coffee.”
“If they want to keep my business, they’ll get the suit clean.”
“Spoken like a rich guy.”
He raises one eyebrow, and I get an almost-smile, but then he glances back down at the dog. “I didn’t see him. The rain was falling hard. I should have been paying better attention.”
It feels like a rare moment to see him this way. Sad. Unsure. From the moment I met Sebastian, he’s reminded me of a tornado—relentless and demanding, taking what he wanted and fuck whatever anyone else had to say.
My hand twitches. Every bit of me wants to reach for him, to put a comforting hand on his arm. Still, I hold back because I know touching Sebastian Pierce is a gateway drug. One hit and I’ll be addicted all over again.
“Don’t beat yourself up. It was an accident. Besides—” I gesture at the creature, who seems to be shivering a bit. “—he was clearly already in bad shape. He’s starving. He…he might not have survived the storm if you hadn’t found him. In a way, getting hit by a car could be a blessing in disguise.”
After all, I should know.
Sebastian’s eyebrows lift. “A blessing?”
I shrug. “Thought I told you I grew up in a religious family. Hard to let go of that ‘God has a plan’ shit.” Even when God’s supposed plan leaves you bloody and homeless and relying on a pimp for help.
“Tell me more.”
I’d rather not. For some reason I open my mouth and start spewing shit anyway. “There’s a big chunk of farmland outside of town, in the unincorporated area between Belle Argo and Beacon Hill. It’s kind of hidden. If you take that road past the restaurant where we almost had dinner, there’s a private drive with a sign that says trespassers will be shot on sight, and then everything around it is barbed wire.”
“I’ve passed by there. I always wondered what the place was.”
“Seekers of the Light.” It’s a funny name, because growing up there was dark as shit. “This guy Ezekiel came here from California, claiming, like a lot of cult leaders do, to have a true connection to God. He got some followers, got them all to go in on a huge patch of land, declared himself their leader, and made a bunch of weird, strict rules like living off the grid and marrying who he told them to. Standard cult stuff.”
I did a little research at the public library after I got out. Then I stopped, because it was depressing as fuck.
“That sounds intense.”
In my memory, a whip cracks. Blood runs down my back. You’re not my son. My son wouldn’t betray me like this.
This is one of those times I wish my vocabulary had a better word, but I guess intense works.
I shake the memory away. “Says the guy who fucked me while beating me with a belt.” Okay, I didn’t mean to say that part out loud.
A receptionist behind the desk pretends to be immersed in whatever she’s typing. Her face is red, though, and her eyebrows are about to disappear into her hair.
Sebastian opens his mouth to answer, but we’re called back. I can’t take my eyes off him as he explains what happened to the vet. He cradles the emaciated pup while the tech takes vitals, especially while he signs the consent paperwork to pay for treatment. I don’t see the number on the paper, but I’ve spent enough time in animal rescue to know treating this dog won’t be cheap.
Just looking at the poor thing, it will need calories, hydration, X-rays, and possibly surgery.
Saved after getting hit by a car. That’s more or less how Brennan found me, so this whole thing is hitting too close to home.
“You ready to go?”
I blink. “What?”
I must have zoned out. It’s only Sebastian and me in the room now. The vet is gone. The tech is gone. So is the dog. He’s gesturing to the door.
