5100 S. Macadam Avenue, Suite 300
Portland, OR 97239
1-503-222-4044
nicwa.org
National Organization of Battered Women’s Shelters （Sweden）
Roks, Hornsgatan 66
118 21 Stockholm, Sweden
Phone: 08-422 99 30
roks.se
Provincial Association of Transition Houses and Services of Saskatchewan （PATHS）
abusehelplines.org
Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network （RAINN）
1-800-656-HOPE
Reporting Crimes Against Children
Federal Bureau of Investigation fbi.gov/report-threats-and-crime
Scottish Women’s Aid
132 Rose Street, 2nd floor Edinburgh EH2 3JD
United Kingdom
Phone: 0131 475 2372
24-hour help line: 0800 027 1234
womensaid.scot
S.E.S.A.M.E. （Stop Educator Sexual Abuse Misconduct & Exploitation）
10863 Florence Hills Street Las Vegas, NV 89141
1-702-371-1290
sesamenet.org
Silent Edge
108 Terrace Drive
Syracuse, NY 13219
silent-edge.org
The United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child
unicef.org/crc
U.S. Department of Justice
Project Safe Childhood 810 Seventh Street NW
Washington, D.C. 20531
justice.gov/psc/index.html
U.S. ICE （Immigration and Customs Enforcement） Cyber Crimes Center, Child Exploitation Investigations Unit
1-866-DHS-2-ICE
ice.gov/features/cyber
Women Against Violence Europe （WAVE）
Bacherplatz 10/6
1050 Vienna Austria
Phone: 01-5482720
wave-network.org
Women’s Aid Federation of England
PO Box 3245
Bristol BS2 2EH, England
womensaid.org.uk
CONTINUE READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF
SAVAGE ROAD
THE NEXT NOVEL IN THE TORPEDO INK SERIES
AVAILABLE JANUARY 2022 FROM BERKLEY
Seychelle Dubois sat on the bathroom floor staring at the toilet for the second morning in a row. She felt like an idiot. “No, Savage, I’m not pregnant. And I’m not a secret drinker either.”
“What the hell is wrong? Should I call Steele? I want you to go see him.”
She pushed herself up, glaring at him. “I do not need to see a doctor. Do you remember the talk we had on privacy?” Stumbling over to the sink, Seychelle washed her face with cold water, rinsed out her mouth and then started the process of brushing her teeth.
Savin “Savage” Pajari continued to watch her in the mirror. He leaned one hip against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were arctic blue, so cold they made her shiver. It didn’t help that he wore a thin pair of drawstring pants, indicating he was going out to practice with his whip. She had been avoiding watching him the last couple of days because for some unexplained reason, just the sight and sound of it turned her on like nothing else in the world possibly could. That was the last thing she needed to know right now on top of everything else—that she was truly messed up in the head, or body, however one wanted to look at it.
“Seychelle, we did have a talk about privacy, and I told you how I felt about it when it came to my woman. Now fuckin’ tell me what’s going on.”
She took her time finishing with her teeth, rinsed her mouth multiple times and then turned to face him, leaning her butt against the sink, arms crossed to match his. “I’m having hideous nightmares. Really vivid nightmares. They make me sick.” She did her best not to make it an accusation, but she knew it came out like one. What was she accusing him of? He wasn’t in her nightmares.
Savage studied her face for a long time without speaking, those blue eyes burning like ice over her. He was gorgeous. That was half her problem. She could stare at him endlessly—forever. He had a body on him, all man, more muscles than was good for him, tattoos over scars and burns. He had the words Whip Master burned into his skin on his chest and Master of Pain burned into his back. The tats didn’t cover either burns, although she knew Ink, a brother in his club, had done his best with the beautiful artwork on him.
“You gonna stop there and make me ask or you goin’ tell me what these nightmares are about, angel? If they’re making you sick, they’re fucked the hell up.”
There was a warning in his voice, but no expression on his face, just those blue, blue eyes, cold as a glacier, telling her he wasn’t going to let it go.
They had agreed to have truth between them, but that really meant she told him the truth and he withheld things he didn’t want to talk about. They’d been together for months, and she loved him far too much. It wasn’t a good thing by any means.