Annihilation Road (18 page)

She ate the eggs because they were protein and they tasted so good she couldn’t help herself. She debated about the potatoes. Carbs. Calories. She had hips. A butt. Breasts. She wasn’t buying into his compliments. He might like her figure now, but a few more pounds and he’d be looking elsewhere. Who was she kidding? He might come to her every other night and crawl into her bed, but he wasn’t interested in having sex with her. What did that tell a woman?

He wasn’t attracted. He might have a permanent erection, because she could see it, but it wasn’t for her. It wasn’t about her. She hadn’t put it there in spite of the fact that she thought she had at first. He came to her because she did what no other woman could do—she took away the rage in him. She soothed him enough that he could sleep when nothing else could get him there. This was about something other than physical attraction, and she knew if she fell for this man, he would need someone else besides her—other women. There would always be other women.

“I know,” he said. “I’m always at war with myself. You’re so damn honest, Seychelle, and you don’t pull your punches. You tell the truth, and you make me face up to mine as well. That truth being, if I wasn’t trying to save you, I’d just move in.”

She laughed. “The house isn’t big enough, and I swear, Savage, I’d gain so much weight I’d have to take up running, and I’m just too lazy for that.”

“We’re not talking about your weight again. Eat the potatoes and we’ll go for a walk. You don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive and you walk all over town.”

That was true. She liked walking, and Sea Haven wasn’t that big, although it was sloped, so she always felt like she was walking uphill when she was visiting her ladies.

“When are you going to come to a Thursday-night jam with the brothers?”

He hadn’t asked her in a while. She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m thinking about it. I thought they might have found another singer by now.”

“They have their hearts set on you. You sing like a fuckin’ angel.”

“I don’t think you can say
angel
and
fuck
in the same sentence without some kind of repercussions, Savage.”

“Babe. Really? I’m going to hell, if that’s what you’re implying, so I can say or do any damn thing I want here on earth.”

“You could try not to go to hell,” she suggested, and took a cautious bite of the potatoes. It was a major mistake. She knew it would be. They tasted so good. Perfect. Of course they were perfect. He was leading her down a path she knew better than to take, and he was even getting her to eat food she knew better than to eat. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be going straight to hell with him.

He was giving her too much of himself—the real man, not the one that was steeped in violence. She had the one no one else knew. He was her best friend. They shared laughter and silly things. They shared truth, no matter how embarrassing or painful. They took care of the elderly and enjoyed their stories. Simple things mattered, like eating eggs and then walking together on the headlands with the wind blowing in their faces.

“You know I have no choice.”

There was so much sadness in his voice, she wanted to go to him and put her arms around him. It was all she could do to stay in the chair. It was definitely getting harder to keep herself from being all in with him. That deep well of self-loathing in him disturbed her. She knew he fought every day with himself just to stay alive. She tried to give him as much
of herself as she could without compromising her heart, but she knew it wasn’t enough. On some level, he knew it too.

“You finished?” Savage stood up abruptly and took her plate, not even commenting on the fact that she hadn’t really eaten all the hash browns. Normally, he never would have let her get away with that. He put both plates in the sink, something else he never did, and he took her hand. “Let’s go. I need to get some fresh air.”

He didn’t say another word, just handed her a jacket, pulled on his own and shoved open the door before taking her hand again. She let him. She saw inside him now. It wasn’t a surprise to her that sex, violence and pain were all wrapped together in one terrible knot that was tight and bright red with blood dripping down flesh from stripes etched into skin. She absorbed it calmly, not shrinking away like she knew he expected her to do.

She’d never come across anyone like Savage before. He was the epitome of the kind of man a woman like Seychelle should never go near. He was like the flame and she was the moth, drawing ever nearer and nearer. She walked with him, easily falling into step, and he pulled her closer to his warmth, right under his shoulder, until her body was tight against his.

He moved smoothly, no jarring steps in spite of the uneven ground. He was protective, making certain she didn’t step off the narrow trail, so that if necessary, he was the one smashing a plant with his heavy motorcycle boots.

They walked in silence and let the wind coming off the ocean tug at their clothes and hair. She was grateful for the continuous assault of the cool breeze that bit at her face and whipped at her eyes so that when tears leaked out, there was another reason other than the slashing pain of the need for whips tearing into skin.

Just as abruptly as Savage had gathered their plates, he swung Seychelle around and all but dragged her back to her house. At the door, he caught her face in his hand, nearly
squeezing her jaw between his thumb and forefinger while his eyes blazed down at her like two living flames.

“Can’t stay tonight, babe. It’s not safe for you.”

He leaned down and took her mouth. He wasn’t the least bit gentle. His mouth was hard and hot. It was a takeover. An invasion. It was pure hell, flames and wicked heat pouring into her. Rough. He bit her lower lip, a sting his tongue soothed, and she felt an answering fire raging through her veins and pooling low. He stepped back, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.

“Where are you going?” The query came out a whisper because it was all she could manage.

“San Francisco. Fight club. A couple of the brothers will go with me.” He shrugged. “They’ll make sure I keep it under control.”

He didn’t look like it was going to be under control. He looked . . . destroyed.

She shook her head. “Don’t go, Savage. I’ve got a really bad feeling. Stay with me. I can find a way to make it better for you.”

He shook his head. “When I’m like this, it’s bad. I can’t be around you. I want you to promise me you’ll stay close to home. Be alert and remember to lock your door.”

“Savage, don’t go. I really do have a bad feeling.” She did. She wanted to hang on to him. Hold him close. She knew something terrible was going to happen if he left her.

“I’ll be back in a day or two. You’ve got that worried look on your face.” He bent his head again, and this time he brushed light kisses over her eyes and along the corners of her mouth. One over the little mark on her lip. “Be good.”

She stood there, watching him swing his leg over his Harley, listening to the now-familiar roar of the pipes, and he was gone, heading south toward the city. She hoped he remembered to text a couple of his brothers, because he was going to need them. The chaos in his mind told her that.

She did the dishes and tried not to think what he would
be doing all night, but she knew. He would fight one competitor after another. She’d caught glimpses of those brutal battles in his mind. She knew he needed them to calm those ferocious demons that rode him so hard at times.

Lying in bed, she let herself cry for him. She should have tried harder with him, instead of protecting herself. She knew he’d lost hope a long time before he met her, and then, when he was with her, he had renewed optimism, an idea that maybe she could actually bring him peace. She didn’t know how it was possible to do so and remain intact. She hadn’t figured that out yet, but she wanted to.

By morning she was exhausted, and she spent most of the following day wandering along the headlands and the beaches at Little River, avoiding people. She walked aimlessly, and the entire time she had this odd sensation that someone was watching her. It gave her an eerie feeling, but she was too distraught over losing Savage to care about trying to figure out why she had such a strange, creepy vibe. She put it down to being so emotional when she stopped several times to take a good, long look around her and didn’t spot a single soul out on the headlands watching anything but the relentless sea.

By evening she was back in her little house. The moment she entered, her home felt strange, as if someone had been inside. She checked every corner, the closets, the shower—nothing seemed out of place, but the strange jangling of her nerves continued far into the night as she sat alone on her bed. She felt more alone than she ever had now that Savage didn’t come. She found herself just staring at the four walls, wishing she knew what to do. For him. For herself. Because when he wasn’t with her, she felt like she was living a half life.

Doris Fendris had been a widow for six years. She had three children, none of whom lived in Sea Haven and only one of whom visited her on what could be considered a regular basis, which meant her daughter came
approximately every six weeks on a Sunday. She called every other Sunday and talked to her mother for about fifteen minutes. Doris always looked forward to her calls and chatted with Seychelle about everything her daughter had to say.

Doris called Seychelle late Monday night in tears, saying she’d taken a fall and needed help. She didn’t want an ambulance, but could Seychelle come over? There was a part of Seychelle that knew better. She really did, but she went over anyway because she never could stop herself even when she knew the consequences. She had enough sense to park her car right in front of Doris’s house and hurry up the walkway to the retro pink door she found obnoxious but strangely Doris loved. It was unlocked, which was also all Doris.

The moment Seychelle walked in, pain hit her hard. Her head felt as if it had exploded, the pain vicious, swamping her. The pain was so severe, wholly encompassing, and it drove her to her knees. Her ankle buckled completely, and she went down to the floor. Seychelle pressed both fists to her chest over her wildly beating heart, took a deep breath and then dragged herself out the door. It was a full minute before she was able to stand on the porch and take several deep breaths before calling out to Doris.

“I’m here on the front porch. Doris, do you need an ambulance?”

The sound of sobbing greeted her query. It was loud and keening, tearing at Seychelle’s heartstrings. She took another deep breath and forced herself to step inside again. Seychelle had to fight to keep from vomiting. The pain in her head was that severe, her eyesight suddenly blurring.

She found Doris lying half in and half out of the living room, with the phone beside her on the floor. Tears poured down her face. She sat with her back to the couch, sobbing, pressing her hands to her temples as if trying to keep her head from coming apart. One leg was stretched out and the other tucked up under her.

“Migraine. Vicious. One of the worst I’ve had yet,” Doris managed to get out.

Seychelle didn’t need to be told. She felt the pain pounding through her head. There was no doubt it was going to take her down very soon. She ran her hands gently over Doris’s leg to search for damage. There was bruising on her calf and swelling on her ankle.

“You have to calm down and let me help you, Doris,” she said softly, trying to find composure herself in the midst of the storm. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s my daughter,” Doris said, when she finally managed to speak after Seychelle had gotten her water and tissues. “She called and said her husband doesn’t like her coming so much, and she wants me to sell my house and move closer to her. Maybe into a home where someone caretakes me. She loves to visit and so do the kids, but he can’t be bothered, and it annoys him if she comes here alone, because she isn’t there to fix his dinners. She only comes once every six weeks, but she still chooses him over me.”

Another fresh flood of tears. “I won’t move there. I love it here. She knows that, and he won’t let her come see me anyway. How can she decide to stay with him?”

Doris began to cry again like her heart was breaking, and Seychelle knew that it was. Her sons lived several states away from their mother. She didn’t expect them to visit very often, but her daughter had always been her best friend, and she adored her grandchildren. She knew she wouldn’t see them anymore unless her daughter chose to leave her selfish husband.

The stress of the call had brought on the terrible migraine she had been subjected to on and off throughout her life. The vicious headaches came on fast, very severe, taking her vision and making her sick; the migraine had made her disoriented. Crying, she had twisted her ankle and fallen.

It took effort to get Doris off the floor, into her nightclothes and into bed. Seychelle made certain Doris took her
migraine medication and drank plenty of water. All the while as she did so, Seychelle began to take on more of her pain. She drew it slowly from the older woman, afraid Doris would have a heart attack and die in the night from the stress of the choice her daughter had made.