Each morning, after he’d been there, she went outside and looked at the tracks where his motorcycle had been. She always picked up his offering to her—a perfect red rose with a long stem and no thorns. That long stem was intertwined with the stem of a dark rose that did have many thorns. She couldn’t fail to understand what he was trying to tell her. She put all twenty-one pairs into a vase.
Nearly a month had gone by, and she’d stayed alone in her cottage, just walking the headlands, playing her guitar and crying. During that time, the club members reported to Savage daily. He didn’t like their reports.
The first week, Joseph Arnold walked along the headlands with a camera every few days, mostly aiming the camera away from the ocean and toward Seychelle’s cottage. He didn’t go near the place or Seychelle. Had he done so, the club members would have stopped him. Eventually, he disappeared.
The third week, Brandon Campbell drove Doris to the cottage to see Seychelle. She had the good sense to sit outside in the chairs by the two grills Savage had left behind. He had no way of knowing if she knew Transporter and Mechanic were close, but she didn’t let the visitors inside her home. Mechanic was close enough to record every word and send it to Savage. The video was very clear, and Savage reviewed it over and over, looking at Seychelle’s face, listening to her voice, and then studying Brandon’s expressions and voice.
“I’ve been so worried about you, Seychelle,” Doris said. “I called and left you messages. You didn’t pick up. I asked Brandon to drop by just to make certain you were okay, and he did twice. He said you didn’t answer the door.”
Seychelle turned her head to look at Brandon, her blue eyes lifeless. She was looking directly into the camera. “How strange. I never heard you knock.”
Mechanic interjected his own commentary. “That’s because the son of a bitch is lying his ass off. He didn’t stop by. He did watch the house from up the street three days in a row. Then he parked just across from her house two nights in a row and made out with some girl with his eyes open, watching the house. He never went near it.”
Savage wondered what his game was. Seychelle’s voice sounded as if she wasn’t the least bit interested in the conversation. Ordinarily, that would have made him happy, but he wanted her alert. Just having Brandon show up with Doris should have raised red flags, but Seychelle barely gave the man a glance.
“Are you all right, Seychelle? You were so sick when you left my house,” Doris persisted. “You’ve lost weight. Brandon, she’s lost so much weight.”
Seychelle attempted a smile at the older woman. “Brandon always pointed out how chubby I was. Actually, I believe he used the word fat. Isn’t that what you said on every occasion we met? Fat? He said I needed to lose weight, so I guess something good came out of me being sick, right, Brandon?”
Her voice was very mild, so soft Savage could barely make it out, but just hearing that Campbell called his woman fat made him want to hunt the little bastard down and beat the crap out of him. Seychelle was gorgeous. Perfect. Ass and tits. A woman with real flesh on her. What the fuck did the man want, anyway?
Doris gasped and turned on Brandon, her hand going to her throat. “What a terrible thing to say.”
“She misunderstood, Doris. Seychelle. Seriously, honey, you misunderstood what I was saying to you. You’re a beautiful woman. You are. Right now, you’re pale and you need someone looking after you. I haven’t seen your boyfriend around.”
“He’s her fiancé,” Doris corrected.
Savage liked that distinction being made, and he was very glad that Seychelle didn’t deny it in front of Brandon.
“He’s here at night. He’s been away on business mostly, but Alena brought me soup, and his brothers from the club check in on me now and then,” Seychelle said. Her voice didn’t sound assuring. She sounded monotone. Tired.
Doris reached over and put her hand over Seychelle’s. “Honey, why don’t you come home with me and let me take care of you? You’re always taking care of everyone else.”
“I’ve been sick, but I’m getting better, Doris. I’ve always had a problem getting over things. Poor immune system. It’s genetic. I’m getting stronger, going for walks now. Thank you for the offer, though.” Seychelle sent her another faint smile.
It was a little too vague for Savage’s liking. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. She looked far too pale, as if she was fading away.