Why hadn’t she thought to call 911? It hadn’t even occurred to her. She had automatically turned to Savage for help.
“Seychelle.” Joseph’s tone was sharp. Nasally. His temper was beginning to fray. “Stop crying. You can’t see the gun. I put it in a drawer, out of sight.”
She didn’t want to take a chance on making him angry with her. As slowly as she thought she could get away with it, she lowered the sheet from her face and dashed at the tears with her palm. With the other hand she made certain to turn the phone over, so the speaker was facing upward. Savage was her lifeline, and she knew he would come. She knew it. That told her everything she needed to know about her relationship with him.
She might have uncertainties about herself, but she wasn’t unsure of Savage. He was never going to let her down. He came to her visits with her elderly friends and went out of his way to make sure their homes were safe for them. He didn’t like talking but went out of his comfort zone to be charming. He told her ahead of time what to expect and made everything her choice. He gave her adventures she would never have on her own, and she loved them even if sometimes she was scared. Savage would come because she could count on him. That was an absolute certainty.
“Are you certain I won’t come across it when I’m making our salads? I have to get out utensils.” She was careful to keep a wobble in her voice. She risked a quick look at his face, not wanting to take things too far but needing to stall. How long did it take to get from Caspar to Sea Haven on the Harleys? Ten minutes? Less? Five? She had to think in terms of longer. The longest. What if they had gone out of town? The club did that sometimes, and when it was club business, Savage didn’t tell her.
“Make the salad for us, Seychelle. You won’t find it, but if you get close, I’ll warn you and get whatever you need out of the drawer for you.”
She wiped her face again and nodded. “Thank you.” She forced herself to slip off the bed and walk on bare feet right past him.
Joseph turned to follow her. He was so close she could smell him. His drug of choice was cocaine, and that, mingled with his natural body odor, sickened her. She coughed delicately into her elbow and kept walking. In the kitchen he toed a chair around, straddled it and stared at her with a little smirk on his face.
“Tell me what those old ladies had to say that was so exciting you were late getting home. I saw Inez; she’s such a busybody.”
Seychelle retrieved the items she would need to make a salad from the refrigerator. She took her time, still stalling. Still hoping. “Why do you say that? Has she said something to you?”
Joseph glared at her. “Said she noticed I was always watching you.”
“She never said a word to me.” Inez hadn’t, and she should have. “I hope you told her you worked in the music industry and were just trying to find a way to help me be successful.”
He watched her wash all the vegetables before spinning the lettuce to get it dry. “You don’t want to be successful; that’s why you always quit.”
She sighed and half turned to face him, as if in resignation. “I don’t like to admit it, even to myself, but my health isn’t very good, and after a while, singing in bars is exhausting. I went to a doctor, and he told me if I kept it up, I wouldn’t live very long.”
Joseph’s face darkened into a scowl. His eyes narrowed to twin points of blazing anger. “If that’s true, why would you sing in that biker bar?”
Where the hell were her rescuers? How long had it been? It felt like a million years had gone by. She took a deep breath and let it out, striving for a normal voice. “You know I love to sing. Did you hear that band? I’ve never, not once in my life, had the opportunity to sing with a band like that. It was amazing. The good thing is that they don’t play on a regular basis. I wouldn’t have to commit to singing every weekend. I could pick and choose when I felt up to it. They’re kind of laid-back that way.” She poured enthusiasm into her voice.
“Are you fucking them?” He spat the words at her.
She let the silence stretch between them for a long time. “That’s just insulting. I’m not going to talk to you, Joseph, if you’re going to be ugly like that.”
He stood up, kicked the chair out of the way and caught her by the arm, fingers biting into flesh. She smashed the salad bowl right into the bridge of his nose as hard as she could and slammed the ball of her foot into his upper thigh, hoping to give him a dead leg. The moment he let go, she drove her foot into his groin and turned and ran to the front door.