She sat wrapped in a blanket, legs pulled up the way she liked on the chair so her chin could rest on her knees, watching him grill the meal. She’d already made the salad for them and had come outside dressed in her pajamas and the blanket.
“I can’t believe you know I don’t eat meat.”
Was there a little challenge in her voice? He sent her a small smile. “Was in your home, babe. There wasn’t much in your refrigerator. Definitely no meat. Tofu for certain. I’m observant when it comes to you.” He’d made it his business to know as much as he could about her because she mattered to him. “You were going to tell me how I managed to get into your house while you were gone with the new locks I installed.”
“I imagine you walked in. Or you dove in through the bedroom window. I was airing out the house. I did have the screen closed.”
That long sexy hair of hers slid down one side of her face in a way that made him want to bury his fists in it and yank her face to his. She had just enough sass in her voice to let him know she knew she’d been wrong to leave her house open while she was out, but she wasn’t going to admit it to him. He’d installed the damn locks for her, but she’d just walked off and left the house open. The screen might have been closed, but it hadn’t been locked.
She’d gone off for a week and hadn’t told anyone where she was—least of all him. Nor had she said when she’d gotten back. She’d ignored 90 percent of his texts until he’d said he was worried about her. She’d answered him then. He should have started right there.
“Yeah, babe. Walked right in, just like any fucker could have done. Like that pretend agent, Joseph Arnold, you tangled with. Spotted him at the local coffee shop with your old friend Hank, the guitar player who can’t tune his own guitar. I imagine they’ll be dropping by later for a visit. If not today, then in a couple of days.”
Joseph Arnold had been around the headlands walking with a camera. Standing not far from her cottage, pretending to watch the ocean, but he was more interested in what was going on behind him in the empty house. The supposed music scout hadn’t noticed Savage or any of the Torpedo Ink members, and eventually, after snapping pictures, he had joined Hank back at the coffee shop, acting as if he hadn’t known where Seychelle resided.
Her color changed slightly. If it was possible, she went even more pale than she was naturally. “They don’t know where I live,” she denied. “I was careful.”
She looked scared to him. Her long lashes swept down to veil her eyes. He speared his steak onto a plate and then put her tofu onto a separate plate, turned off the gas to both grills and walked over to her.
“Tell me about Brandon Campbell. What does he look like? Why don’t you like him? What makes you think he’s not a nice man? Because I could tell you thought everything he said to Doris about that woman was pure bullshit.”
She was silent, rubbing her chin on the blanket, a little frown he found adorable on her face while she thought about what she was going to tell him. He liked that she always thought things through.
“He’s extremely good-looking. Dark hair and eyes. Dresses nice but not over the top. He looks like he goes to the gym, keeps himself in shape. He’s the kind of man women would look at when he walks into a room, and he knows it. He’s very confident.” She hesitated.
“Just say it.”
“Do you believe in psychic talents?”
Savage regarded her silently. She was wrapped in her blanket, for the first time looking at him as if she was afraid he might disappoint her.
“Yeah, babe. I know psychic talents are a real thing. I think most people have them, they just don’t develop them. Why?”
She looked relieved. “Because Brandon Campbell has one and uses it as a kind of persuasion, almost, in my opinion, like a date-rape drug. He influences those he talks to, swaying them to do whatever he wants, to believe whatever he wants them to believe. He definitely is capable of controlling someone or taking away their self-esteem. I think he persuades Doris to believe anything he says. I think he’s controlling that woman in his house. He definitely tried to use his voice on me when he asked me out.”
Savage’s gut tightened into a thousand knots. He was capable of controlling with his voice. Persuading. Training. He could use it, and he had. Often. Over and over. He could hear the condemnation in her voice when she talked about Brandon Campbell. What was she going to think about him? He was far, far worse.
“Come on, babe, let’s eat while it’s hot.”