Free Scarred (Unlikely Heroes Book 5) by Leslie Georgeson

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