FOURTEEN

“I don’t really understand what a run is,” Seychelle said to Lana. “Would you explain it to me? Savage is so sweet, and he’s kind of spoiled me rotten the last two weeks. Some things he explains very succinctly, and for other things I think he expects I can just read his mind. He brought up the run and said we’d be going in a few weeks, that it was important, but he didn’t really say what it was.”

She looked around the clubhouse curiously. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but not this very neat, comfortable, large space. This was the common room they all shared and mostly congregated in. The chairs were the most relaxing furniture she’d ever sat in. She wouldn’t mind trying to fit a couple of them in her Mini Cooper and making a getaway for her cottage.

“That’s our boy. Well, I don’t know about the sweet part.” Lana gave her a smile, but her vivid green eyes examined Seychelle’s face carefully. “You do make him happy.” She turned her head to look at Savage, who was behind the bar, no expression on his hard features, talking to his birth brother, Reaper, and club brother Destroyer.

Seychelle didn’t think he looked happy. She thought he looked as if he was discussing murder. If that was what the three men were doing, they were keeping their heads down and doing so in low tones. Everyone seemed to be talking about the “run,” but no one really seemed to be excited about going on it.

“Seychelle, he’s really in love with you.”

Instantly, Lana had her full attention. Lana didn’t sound ecstatic. If anything, she sounded leery. In fact, the look Seychelle caught being exchanged between Alena and Lana was worrisome.

She sighed. “What’s wrong with that? Isn’t he supposed to fall in love? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Of course,” Alena said hastily, all the while watching Savage. “Don’t get upset. He’ll know, and believe me, honey, he won’t be happy with us for getting his chicklet upset. It’s just that Savage doesn’t just love you. He’s mad, crazy, all-in, you’re-his-world in love with you.”

“That’s the way I feel about him.”

“It’s all right if you feel that way about him, Seychelle,” Lana said. “You really are sweet. Savage didn’t get that name because he’s a nice guy. Someone looks at you wrong and he could end up in prison.”

“At this run? That’s what you’re mostly worried about, isn’t it?” Seychelle guessed shrewdly. She tapped her fingers on her thigh. “He did mention several times that a lot of different clubs would be there, and he wanted me to stick very close to him and to the other members of Torpedo Ink.”

Lana nodded. “Runs can be fun, but they can be dangerous. You’re a beautiful woman, and you’ve got the kind of body men are going to be looking at. You have a voice that draws men in. Also . . .” She glanced at Alena.

Alena shrugged. “It’s no big deal. She’s Savage’s old lady—that makes her Torpedo Ink. She can hear. I hooked up with one of the Diamondbacks. Pierce. It was stupid of me. I was lonely and he was intriguing. And hot. I kept missing our dates when I was opening the restaurant. Standing him up. He came around one night and was really upset. He talked me into making a sex video for him. I knew better, but I felt guilty and I did it. He shared it with his club, and he hooked up with a woman who used to party with all the boys here and in various other clubs. He did that while he was with me. Apparently, that’s his thing, and, you know, lesson learned. It hurt, but I’m getting over it. My brothers, not so much. They’re pretending they’re over it, but they aren’t. It’s like a powder keg ready to blow up in our faces. The least little provocation between the two clubs, and we could be on the run for the rest of our lives.”

Seychelle heard the very real worry in her voice. It was easy to see the uneasiness on their faces. She had felt the heightened tension since she’d come with Savage to the clubhouse. She thought it was because he’d brought a newcomer there.

She glanced at her watch. She was supposed to be at the bar at ten o’clock to sing with the band. She’d promised Keys and Master. Savage had been adamant that she signal to him if anyone in the crowd was really ill. He said it was important she sing tonight, and if anyone in the crowd was sick, they needed to practice their signals, and he would remove the person. There was still a little time left before she had to go.

“Savage mentioned that several of the Diamondbacks would be showing up tonight, that they had a meeting with Czar.”

Alena nodded. “That’s true. They’ll be meeting with him in the back room. Everyone else will carry on as usual. As if nothing is happening. A normal crowd will be there, just dancing and having a good time, listening to the music.”

Seychelle was suddenly very uneasy. “What would be happening? Maybe you should just tell me what’s going on tonight. Am I some kind of distraction?” She didn’t know if she was upset by the idea or if it excited her. Seychelle, the wild girl, providing the diversion while her man and his club carried out some nefarious deed. Except she had no idea what the wicked, reprehensible deed was, and what was the fun in that?

“No one knows exactly,” Lana said. “We went to a meet recently and it didn’t pan out so well. Pierce’s new girlfriend attacked Alena.”

“We can change the subject,” Alena suggested. “What do you think of Savage’s house?”

Seychelle tried to control the color rushing up her neck to cover her face. “I haven’t seen it yet.” They’d started out the door several times, but they’d never made it. She blamed Savage. He was insatiable. Totally.

They had run out of food, though, and desperately needed groceries. Savage told her they could have them delivered, and they had, several times. Now, she knew time was getting away from them and they had to get back to the real world. He had a big meeting he had to attend. She could sing with the band, and she hadn’t visited her older friends and made certain they had all the things they needed. She felt a little guilty about that. Some of them counted on her.

“You haven’t seen his house yet?” Lana repeated, a small grin on her face.

“No.” Seychelle looked at her watch again, a little desperate for time to keep marching forward now that they were discussing things she didn’t want to get into. “I’m sure it’s quite nice.”

“I’m sure it is,” Alena said and burst out laughing. “Don’t look so apprehensive. They all have nice houses. They like ocean views, forest and privacy. That adds up to nice. You’re going to have to come to my restaurant.”

“I didn’t thank you for all the times you brought me meals when I wasn’t doing so well,” Seychelle said. “I really appreciated it. It made me feel that someone cared. For a good part of my life I felt very alone. Even when my parents were alive, and they were very loving, they just didn’t have the energy to put out toward a child.”

“You gave your energy to them,” Lana guessed.

Seychelle shrugged. “They were my parents. I wanted them to live forever. It was hard to let them go. I didn’t have anyone else in my life. It was the three of us. Mom was so worn out, though, sometimes she couldn’t talk, so I’d just sit on the bed with her and sing to her for hours. Dad would come into the room and climb on her bed on the other side of her and snuggle too. It was a strange childhood by normal standards.”

“What’s normal?” Alena shrugged. “None of us know. We all just get by, I suppose. Here comes your man. You’ll do fine tonight, Seychelle. Just do whatever Savage tells you to do, and if anything goes wrong, stick with the band until he gets to you.”

Seychelle nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. She’d been happy, feeling like she had it all, maybe a little nervous to come to the exalted clubhouse, but still, Savage made her feel like she was extraordinary. She felt as long as they were together, they could face anything. With the dire warnings the two women had passed on to her, she suddenly felt as if she shouldn’t go on the run with Savage after all—and she’d been looking forward to it. And now, after wanting to sing with the club’s band again, she wanted to go back home and be safe in her cottage.

Savage wrapped his arm around her, pulling her under his shoulder and up tight against his side, his all-too-seeing gaze sweeping over her face. “What’s wrong, babe?” He glanced at Alena and Lana as they walked away, heading toward the back rooms. “They say something to upset you?”

His tone was low, even, but there was a small underlying note that warned Seychelle Alena and Lana were right: Savage wasn’t going to tolerate anyone—not even his brothers and sisters in the club—making his woman uncomfortable. She tried a tentative smile but kept her eyes veiled with her lashes, knowing the man could read her like a book.

“I don’t exactly know what’s going on tonight, and the atmosphere is pretty tense. This is definitely a club thing. None of the women are here other than Alena and Lana. Are they going to be in the bar?”

“Some will be. I didn’t want to bring you, babe.” Savage walked her to the door and caught up the jacket hanging there to hand to her. “We need your voice tonight. This is important, Seychelle. I can’t stress it enough. When you first go in and look around, I want you to signal to me if there is anyone in the bar who is extremely ill or has something that is going to distract you in any way. If so, I need to know. We’ll take care of it. The club will politely get them to leave. After that, I need you to focus on the Diamondbacks. Just on them, especially the ones who will be in the back room with Czar and a few Torpedo Ink members. You can do that, right? You can feel everyone in the building, even at that distance?”

Savage held out the jacket, so she turned and put her arms into it. He always had her turn her back to him so he could slide his arms around her and zip it up. He nuzzled her neck, first with his chin, and then he trailed kisses from her neck to her ear. He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth until she had goose bumps.

There was no doubt in her mind he was as worried as Alena and Lana had been. “Did it occur to you that you should have discussed this with me before you brought me into the situation, Savage?” She turned around and tilted her chin at him, her gaze meeting his directly.

Savage didn’t look away from her. She knew he wouldn’t. His piercing blue eyes were back to glacier cold—that dense blue that was icy and could chill to the bone. She refused to back down.

“Yeah, baby, I thought about it for a long time, but I thought it would just make you more nervous. And I don’t know what this meet with the Diamondbacks is about. Not even Czar knows. We don’t have any idea what to expect. They called a meet recently in the middle of the night, so no witnesses. That didn’t go well. This time they wanted it in the full bar, with civilians, and on a night when the band was playing.” Savage stroked caresses in her hair. “We gotta get there, Seychelle.”

“Maybe we do, honey, but I need to know what you’re going to be doing while I’m singing, and where you are, so I’m not terrified something’s going to happen to you.” She refused to budge in spite of the hand he put on her back, urging her to move out the door.

His eyes went flat. They were already cold. “Baby, you worry about the other guy, not me. Now get your ass on my bike—we’ve got to go now. I want to know you can feel us in the back room. We have to set up.”

Seychelle went with him, her stomach churning. Their “honeymoon” period was coming to an abrupt end. She didn’t say a word as she took her place behind him on the bike. The night was foggy, as it often was on the coast, but just barely. She thought of it as a gray cloud enveloping them as they made their way to the bar. What had been something she’d been looking forward to was now a little frightening—and her temper was stirring.

The bar was up the road, just below Highway 1. Above the bar were the two apartments the club owned and rented out to Bannister and Delia. There was a large parking lot in front of the terraced landscaping that wrapped around the building. A narrow path led up to the highway through overgrown grass to one side of the property. The other side was by parts parking and landscaped.

Savage had known he was taking her into a dicey situation, and he had waited until the last minute to tell her. She was someone who had to process information. He knew that about her. Lana and Alena had cast doubts on her going on the run; in fact, she’d decided she’d just stay home while he went on it. She wasn’t going to take any chances of being the cause of Savage going to prison. And now this . . . Yeah, her temper was quite close to the surface.

By the time Savage parked the bike, Seychelle was seething. She smacked him in the back of the head as she got off, all but tossed the helmet to him and started walking toward the bar without him.

“Woman. You wait for me.”

That was a direct order. There was no doubt about it. That was Savage being the enforcer. She stopped in her tracks but didn’t turn around. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to smack the back of his head, but if she was going to be in trouble for it, she wished she’d put a little more effort into it.

She felt the heat of his body before he reached her. He was always so silent in the way he moved, like some great jungle cat stalking his prey. Her body gave a little shiver all on its own, responding to his aggression in spite of her own anger at him. He slung his arm possessively around her neck and pulled her in to the shelter of his body. He was solid muscle, a wall of sheer strength. When he locked her against him, she wasn’t going anywhere. She stood very still, waiting, trembling, but not with fear, more with a mixture of anger and anticipation.

“You have every right to have your nasty temper exploding right now, Seychelle. I fucked up. I should have listened to my instincts regarding you. I know your personality. You like to hear about things, even a little bit at a time, and then think it over. I was happy in that cottage with you and I didn’t want to leave. We were laughing every day. All night. The last thing I wanted to do was bring this mess up, especially when I didn’t know what we were walking into, but I should have.”

She turned to face him and he pulled her in close again, sliding one hand down her back to the curve of her bottom. “You’ve gotten so you like my hand or even occasionally the leather decorating your ass. And you’ve let me clamp your nipples a couple of times, and you enjoyed it. I was so wrapped up in you and me that I didn’t want anything else to interfere. I didn’t want to bring the outside into our world. What I did was wrong, and I’m fully aware of it.”

Seychelle pressed her forehead against his chest. When he did that, just simply and succinctly owned his mistakes, it turned her heart over. Savage never beat around the bush, he just simply told her outright what he thought was his part in what went wrong.

“Not the leather. I’m not sure about that leather strap thing yet. Clamps I love. Your hand too. Leather, um . . . not so much.”

“Your body always tells me something else.”

“I know, but I think I’m going to have a serious talk with my body. Okay. I’m not angry anymore, but please, when something big is up, let me know ahead of time. I really do have to think things through. I’m not good at this caught-off-guard thing.”

He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. His eyes had gone from ice-cold blue to flames, ones that licked over her body and turned her to pure fire. “You’re good at everything, Seychelle. I love you. Just remember that and you’ll be fine. Stay with the band. Don’t step into the crowd for any reason. When we go in, you search that crowd for anyone with illnesses who could distract you or force you to help them. That’s the first thing.”

He framed her face with his hands and brushed kisses over her lips. “You can do this, baby. More than anything, you stay safe for me. Tell me you understand that’s the most important thing. You’ll sweep that room, and we’ll clear it of anyone with an illness.”

She nodded. “I can do that.”

That earned her a kiss. His kisses robbed her of all ability to think. If he wanted a thinking person in the bar, he couldn’t kiss her. Not only did her brain turn to mush, but her body went into meltdown. One hand slipped into her hair, crushing it into his fist at the nape of her neck, holding her head in place while fire flared between them.

He lifted his head when she gripped his jacket hard and fought for control. “We’ve got this, baby. You and me. We can do this. You’ll be safe as long as you do just what I tell you.”

Seychelle realized he really didn’t want her there. Whatever this was, for some reason, the club felt they needed her. That settled her when nothing else could have. She wanted to be important to him—a partner, not a burden. She wasn’t just a distraction. The club was counting on her.

“What do you want me to do when I’m singing, Savage?” She searched his eyes. The blue flames had quickly faded back to that flat, cold, deadly look he sometimes got that made her shiver. His features had settled into his expressionless mask.

“I’ll go into the back room. Czar and some of the others will already be in there. I want you to sit at the bar and talk to Anya right before you take the stage. I’ll step out of the room, and you give me a sign whether or not you can read us and how tense we are, the mood in the room. I think you’ll be able to. If you can’t, we’ll try to find a way to make it work so you will. When the Diamondbacks come in, zero in on the ones coming into the back. Keep tuned to them. This is very important, Seychelle. If they start to get upset, try to counter it. Signal the band and let them know. Work out something to play ahead of time, various songs to counter whatever emotions you might meet.”

She nodded.

“There will be Diamondbacks scattered around the bar as well. You’ll have to keep a read on them. I know it’s a lot to ask, baby, but it’s damned important.”

“I can do it. I do it all the time,” she assured him.

He brushed her lips with his again and wrapped his arm around her waist possessively, walking her across the parking lot. Savage stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the bar to introduce her to a club member.

“Seychelle, this is Fatei. He’s a good man, a good brother. If there’s trouble, he’ll get to you. He’ll be inside the bar as well, looking out for you.”

Seychelle smiled at him. “Good to know. I’ll be the one singing with the band.”

Fatei sent her a faint answering grin that didn’t quite light up his face. He didn’t seem quite as intimidating to her as the other club members, but he looked like a man who could handle himself.

Music poured out of the building, as if it were impossible for the walls to contain the sound. Already, Seychelle was caught by the rhythm and perfect notes as the instruments welded together into a musical phenomenon that sent her spirits soaring. She loved this band and the way they played. Fatei opened the door and Savage walked her in, keeping her body clamped to his side. Fatei took her other side, so that when they moved through the crowd—and there was a huge, packed crowd—no one so much as brushed up against her.

Anya worked one side of the bar and Preacher worked the other. Seychelle did her best to block out everything but the crowd and the way each person felt to her. It was difficult with the way her body responded to the music and the level of excitement emanating from the various occupants who had come to have a good time.

There were several parties of women. She recognized the two women fixated on Savage. Clearly, they hadn’t given up. They were with three other women, one of whom looked a little older, and the moment Savage had entered the room, all of them had riveted their attention on him. Shari’s eyes were hot with greed and her emotions were by turns lustful, filled with hatred toward Seychelle, and needy and determined. She danced and swayed seductively on the edge of the dance floor, making a path to intercept Savage so she could brush against his body.

“How the fuck did she get in here? I had her banned,” Savage snarled in a low voice to Fatei.

“I’ll look into it, Savage,” Fatei promised. “Do you want me to throw her out?”

“Don’t,” Seychelle said. “Just let it go tonight, Savage.” She knew there were too many other things riding on her singing tonight. Savage couldn’t be distracted because of past issues she’d had. She didn’t have them so much anymore.

“You sure, baby?”

“Absolutely.”

Seychelle did her best to ignore Shari while sliding her healing gift over the other women with her, trying to find any actual illnesses that would suddenly pull her attention from her assignment. The women were emotionally fixated on Savage or the bikers, but other than one of them having a UTI, they seemed fine.

“Your harem is back, and it keeps expanding.” She tried to tease him to get him to smile. When he didn’t, she turned her attention to the rest of the crowd.

Savage bit her earlobe and then licked at it to take away the sting. “You’re going to pay for that.” He whispered it against her ear, his lips brushing against her skin with every word so that little goose bumps rose all over her body.

“Don’t distract me.” She pushed at him with one hand, although half-heartedly, as they neared the band and the end of the bar, where Bannister, one of the regulars, had been sitting, holding the bar stool for her.

Shari slid her body up against Savage’s, or tried to, but at the last second, as she tried to make contact, he suddenly stepped sideways, taking Seychelle with him, his mouth on her neck, moving her back into the crowd and swinging them around so Fatei was between the woman and them. Shari glared at Seychelle as if she were to blame.

The band swung into another song and immediately the crowd was dancing to the beat. That made it easier for Seychelle to get a clearer take on those in the room. Most everyone was healthy. There were a few with unhealthy livers who insisted on drinking, but she knew she couldn’t help them.

“Nothing big in here. We’re good so far, Savage. You can head to the back room.”

He escorted her to the bar stool. “Don’t forget to give Fatei or the band the signal if you’re in trouble. You need to be clear with them what that is ahead of time.” He pushed her hair out of her face and tipped up her chin. “You understand? It gets too much and you have to bail, that’s all right.”

She cupped the side of his face. “I’m going to be fine. Go to your meeting. I’ve got this.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door to the club open and, to her dismay, Brandon Campbell sauntered in. He didn’t have his girlfriend with him, the one now living in the house Sahara had vacated, but that didn’t surprise Seychelle. The girl was underage.

Why in the world would Brandon come to a biker bar? It wasn’t his scene. That was a definite red flag. With everything going on, she hoped that Savage wouldn’t notice, but she should have known better. He leaned down and kissed her. “Stay close to the band and Fatei at all times. You need me, text or send Fatei. If that fails, look straight at the camera and say my name.”

“I’m going to be fine. Go, so we can test the distance.” She already knew she could read those in the back room. She knew Reaper was back there with Code, Czar, Ice, Storm and Mechanic. This meeting was big. Really big. Savage was joining them in the back room. Transporter was on the monitors, watching everything happening via cameras.

Savage leaned over and spoke in Fatei’s ear. Her bodyguard for the night nodded once and glanced across the crowd at Brandon. It was just a quick sweep of his eyes, but Seychelle shivered. Why she thought Fatei seemed so much sweeter and less lethal than the others was anyone’s guess. In that moment, he seemed just as likely as Savage to take Brandon outside and cut his throat.

Joseph Arnold slipped in so fast, not approaching the bar or her, but Seychelle’s radar went off, so she caught sight of him before he managed to disappear into the crowd. She caught Fatei looking at her face and then doing another slow sweep of the bar as if looking for what or who had caught her attention.

“Hey, girl.” Anya handed her a water bottle. “Big night tonight with you singing. The band’s excited. Maestro’s been bragging for days. He was annoyed when Savage was keeping you all to himself.” She deftly served drinks to three customers leaning against the bar in between the stools.

Seychelle was grateful for the distraction. “I thought none of the other women were coming tonight, but I was wrong. Quite a few are here besides the two of us. I haven’t met everyone, but I recognize them from Savage’s descriptions. At least I think I do. The woman sitting at the table up close to the band with Alena—that’s Scarlet, Absinthe’s wife, right? She’s got that red, red hair. And the table just inside the door, that’s Lana, but is that Lissa? The famous glassblower? She’s married to Casimir, Czar’s birth brother, right? I’ve seen pictures of her. She’s gorgeous. It’s funny that she’s got red hair as well, although not that same red as Scarlet’s,” Seychelle continued.

She knew she was chattering because she was nervous. It was silly. Now that the others were in place, the tension had eased in them. In fact, it was so low, she wouldn’t have realized they expected trouble at all. She spotted Ink moving through the crowd, asking a girl to dance, taking her to the dance floor, but his attention wasn’t really on her, no matter how hard the woman tried to rub her body all over his.

The number ended, and Seychelle slid from the bar stool to make her way to the platform where the band was. It was really only a couple of feet from where she’d been sitting, but Shari and her friend Melinda were obviously waiting to ambush her. Fatei stepped easily between them, and somehow, that smoothly, Alena and Scarlet were there as well, creating a wall, blocking the two women before they could reach her.

Seychelle expected to feel Shari’s emotion at her loss of Savage, but instead, it was an intense hatred for Seychelle. The emotion was raw and passionate. Seychelle glanced down to see the woman’s hands curled into claws, her long nails like talons, ready to rip at her eyes. That was how visceral her feelings were against Seychelle.

No one had ever hated Seychelle before, and it shook her to think this woman, a total stranger, did so now. She kept her head up, ignoring the woman, smiling at Alena and Scarlet, murmuring hello to Scarlet as Alena introduced her.

“You okay?” Alena whispered. “I don’t know why she won’t leave him alone. I can throw her out.”

“She’s no threat to me. I actually feel sorry for her,” Seychelle said. “I’m good.” She was. Savage loved her, and she was secure in that knowledge. She nodded to Fatei, not wanting him to think she hadn’t noticed that he’d put his face on the line. Shari was capable of ripping his eyes out if she got angry enough. Seychelle did think the anger at her was strange. Especially as it was so strong. It didn’t make sense. Seychelle was all about puzzles, and she wanted a little time to figure out why Shari was so focused on her, even more so than she was on Savage.

Maestro and Player greeted her. Keys and Master flashed grins at her. She took the microphone and faced them for a brief moment. Maestro indicated she had better signal them if anything went wrong. She nodded and they immediately swung into a fast, upbeat song that had the crowd going instantly.

She poured her magic into it, sending golden notes climbing up the walls and building webs across the ceiling. She spread those golden notes throughout the bar, beyond Preacher and Anya, so they moved along the ceiling down the long hallway behind the bar as well as the one beside it. It didn’t matter that the door was closed; the notes found their way inside, climbing the walls and moving up the ceiling, an invisible golden net that was everywhere throughout the entire building by the time the last note of the song faded away.

The second song was slower, dreamier, but still with a dance beat, one that allowed her to sync with the crowd. It was so much easier to get a feeling for the emotions of individuals in the bar when she sang. If someone was very ill, that interfered, and then her ability to feel emotions would fade, but she’d already gone through the crowd, and no one had come in with an overwhelming disease that called to the healer in her. As she sang, she could touch on an individual and subtly change their mood.

Arnold had come to the bar, eyes on her, a mixture of feelings, possession, lust, arrogance, depression, determination. He signaled to Anya and was instantly annoyed when she didn’t immediately serve him. Brandon was on the dance floor, close to Shari and the women, dancing with them, a smug smirk on his handsome face each time he looked at Seychelle.

Seychelle had a pulse on everyone in the building and was aware when the Diamondbacks arrived. There was the continual sound of Harleys, trucks or cars in the parking lot or on the road, but the heightened awareness of the members of Torpedo Ink tipped her off that the Diamondback club had arrived.

Steele, the vice president of Torpedo Ink, escorted several men inside, all wearing Diamondback colors. Destroyer was with them. The moment they entered the bar, Seychelle felt a new strain introduced. Pain. Emotional pain. It was sharp and raw. Visceral. The pain of betrayal. That pain emanated from Alena.

Another thread twisted into Seychelle’s golden web. Regret. Guilt. Determination. Sadness. That came from the man that had to be Pierce. He walked beside the one in the vest with a patch declaring he was the president. That man too felt guilt, but also worry. He had a heavy burden resting on him.

With Pierce and the president of the chapter of Diamondbacks were five others Steele escorted down the hall toward the back room. Those men were leery. Destroyer took up the rear. Five other Diamondback club members stayed behind in the bar. Three sat at a table close to Lana and Lissa and the exit.

The other two Diamondbacks moved through the crowd to get to the front where the tables were. The one beside Alena and Scarlet was occupied by a couple, but they rose immediately, allowing the two Diamondbacks to sit down. One took out his phone and brought up a video, turning up the sound and leaning in to show his companion what he was playing. His companion glanced at Alena, his gaze moving over her body in an open leer.

Alena and Scarlet ignored the two men, but Seychelle could feel that pain of betrayal coming off Alena in waves. With it mixed anger. Seychelle’s expression didn’t change, but her level of pain increased until it was difficult for her to sing. The golden threads vibrated with a wealth of silver, sliding along the string straight to the small table, swirling like tiny crystals of shiny glitter.

The music changed to another upbeat rock song, clearly meant for pulling the crowd to their feet for dancing. Her voice joined those notes, wrapping around them, pushing a gentle urge, a need to rise up and have fun, to be happy, to want to dance. All the while as the music did so, she watched the silver glitter swirl around Alena, absorbing the twisted pain and anger, each little crystal filling up, draining off some of the pain, little by little, until the crystals were full.

Seychelle was fascinated. Shocked. While she was singing with an entire crowd around her, she was seeing how Savage’s gift worked. The silver crystals moved along her golden threads, finding their way back to him. The terrible emotional pain Alena had felt, that betrayal that went so deep, was still there, but Savage had siphoned the worst of it from her, taking the old pain and rage that mixed with the new, twisting it together until Alena didn’t know the difference. Until she felt she couldn’t bear the weight of one more betrayal. He’d lifted most of that from her and left her burden so much lighter.

Savage’s gift was such a thing of beauty, Seychelle couldn’t help but react to him with pride and respect, with joy at his abilities and sacrifice. The others didn’t know. They hadn’t seen. Alena still hurt, and the cut was deep, but she didn’t know Savage had saved her, allowing her to present her cool, aloof demeanor.

Seychelle loved Savage all the more for his sacrifice. He would take on Alena’s emotional pain. Shoulder it for her. Feel the deep wound cut right to his soul and allow it to build the rage in him until he had to find a way to rid himself of it. That was what he did for his brothers and sisters. For his club.

Because she had followed that chord back to him, she was even more aware of what he was doing than he was. He wasn’t giving his complete attention to Alena; he was giving it to the meeting taking place in the back room between the two clubs. He was doing his job, and she needed to keep her mind on doing hers.

As the band swung from one song to the next, she kept her focus tuned to the men in the back room with Czar and the others. Twice, the tension seemed to rise sharply, and both times she sent notes of peace and harmony drifting along the main radial threads leading to the back room. She directed the golden notes to those in the back room with the most anxiety and the building anger suddenly coiling deep.

At the same time, she monitored those in the bar. Shari danced with her group of women and Brandon, at times grinding against Brandon while he whispered in her ear. Other times she nearly threw herself in a frenzied simulated sexual dance at the members of Torpedo Ink playing music. Sometimes Shari would try to get Fatei’s attention or Ink’s. Several times she nearly sat in the laps of the two Diamondbacks seated at the table close to Alena and Scarlet. Her desperation was difficult for Seychelle to take, but no matter what she tried, Shari didn’t respond to any kind of persuasion by Seychelle’s voice.

Brandon watched Seychelle so intently, she had to work to keep her attention focused on her job. She knew he was evaluating her voice. Her pitch. He had a talent similar to hers, and it was dangerous to give him any opening that might allow him to find his way into her mind. He clearly was trying to decide if she was influencing those in the audience as a whole intentionally, or simply singing and her voice was that persuasive.

The two Diamondbacks had switched their attention from Alena and Scarlet to Seychelle, and she realized her voice had enthralled them, just as it had several other men in the room. Arnold continued to sit at the bar, drinking and brooding. The bar was so crowded now with bikers, she could barely stay focused on those in the back room, and she was thirsty. Usually, she sang in sets. By now, she would have had a break, and she needed one desperately.

There was one member of the Diamondbacks in the back room who seemed as if he was so weighed down with his burden, he felt as if he was being pressed to the wall and had no way out but to fight. The man Seychelle had identified as Pierce had become more and more morose and miserable, as well as determined. In contrast, the members of Torpedo Ink seemed calm on the surface, but like Alena, their anger and pain ran deep. Something about this meeting brought back too many memories. She couldn’t read their memories, but she could feel the terrible emotional toll the meeting was taking on each of the members.

She did her best to send peace and harmony to them, and when she felt Savage taking more and more of his brothers’ and sisters’ pain and anger onto his shoulders, she finally turned her head slightly and signaled to Maestro to play a ballad. She could control that rising tide of emotion and bring the level of despair down, but she couldn’t absorb the pain the way her man was doing.

She sang about love. The power of it. The importance of it. The incredible journey. The way one sacrificed. She knew the road would be rough at times. That they would falter and sometimes even be angry and fail, but if they kept trying together, they would forge something so strong, nothing—no one—could ever break them apart. She poured her heart and soul into the lyrics. The pitch was perfection, going out onto the frame and those radial lines and sending the notes dancing up the walls and across the ceiling, down the hall and under the door to the meeting room.

In the bar, the notes found each spiral thread running to the crowd of various people and found specific ones, those needing solace or needing to simply relax into the music. She spun her golden net, ensnaring the crowd with her voice and lyrics, blending and weaving her notes with the incredible music the band played. The web vibrated with the power of her gift, resonating with each person individually, becoming what they needed, in that moment giving them the incentive and determination to get through every crisis with grace and strength and fairness.

When the last notes of the song faded, the band picked up the beat, swinging into a dance number, one the crowd would recognize instantly and not only dance to but sing along to. Maestro took up the vocals to give her a much-needed break. She felt as if her throat had been torn out. Nodding to him, she stepped off the stage, mindful of Savage’s decree not to go too far from the band. There was no third chair to join Alena and Scarlet at their table, and Brandon was at the bar with Joseph Arnold. She didn’t want to talk to either of them. Mostly, she wanted fresh air.

She signaled to Fatei, and he came right away as she stepped off the platform. “Is there a way I can go outside and still be close to the back room? They feel as if they’re leaving, but just in case.”

“Yeah, they’re all going,” Fatei agreed. “Czar sent the message just now.”

Relief swept over Seychelle. “Is Savage coming to get me?”

“Not yet. He’s got a little more club business. You’ll have to stick with me for a little bit longer.”

“Can you signal Anya for a water and we’ll head outside? I saw Preacher use another door leading out. We could maybe go that way?” She made it a question and all but crossed her fingers, trying not to be upset that Savage had texted Fatei with his plans but not her. She’d glanced at her phone and there was nothing from him.

“Babe, Savage would prefer that you stay inside.”

“I just want to step outside for a minute. I can’t breathe. I’ve never sung that long without a break.” Seychelle made it a statement. “I really have to go outside and get some fresh air.”

Fatei took a long time to scan the bar, and then he nodded. “We’ll head toward the bar. I’ll grab your water and we’ll head out. Just give me a minute to make sure it’s clear. I’m texting Anya and Preacher that I’m bringing you out.” He stood directly in front of her while he did so.

Seychelle took a deep breath and allowed herself to listen to the music and relax a little now that the Diamondbacks in the back room were leaving. The five in the bar were still seated, although the two near Alena’s table had pushed back their chairs and drained their beers as if they were about to go. She felt eyes on her and saw Shari and her friend Melinda watching. Deliberately, she turned her back. In another minute, Fatei gestured toward the hallway that led to the exit she could take.

It was a huge relief to get out of the crowded bar and into the fresh air. Seychelle felt as if the night air enfolded her like a dark cloak as she went down the three cement stairs leading to the area behind the bar. The grounds opened up wide in several places, allowing for a few scattered picnic tables, but she walked to the narrow section, where she could sit in the deeper shadows along a cement railing where flowers and shrubs were planted.

“Ow. That hurts.” The female voice came out of the darkness to her left.

Seychelle recognized a young woman named Sabelia, who worked in Sea Haven at a shop called the Floating Hat where she bought her lotions and teas.

“Stop being a baby. If you hadn’t come out here with the scum of the earth, you wouldn’t have a black eye already swelling closed. Hold still.” Preacher’s usual easygoing tone shook with repressed anger and frustration. “This is the last time you come to my place and do this, Sabelia. I mean it. I’ve had it with you getting drunk, going off with the worst asshole in the bar and getting beat up. Find another bar.”

“You can’t kick me out of the bar.”

“I can. Sit still. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you. You have more talent in your little finger than most people, and more chances handed to you, but you throw them all away. You’re like some little child constantly throwing tantrums, and it’s getting damn old. If you were my sister, I’d do something about it, but you’re not, so the only thing I can do is kick your ass out.”

“You don’t know anything about me or my life. You don’t have a clue what my life has been like.”

“No, I don’t, Sabelia, and it doesn’t matter, does it? We can’t change what anyone did to us in the past, but we are responsible for what we choose to do with our lives in the future. I would give anything to have your talent.”

“Oh, right, that’s why you already know so much more than I do, and I’ve been working with Hannah longer than you have,” Sabelia said. She sounded sulky.

“Hannah Drake Harrington took you under her wing because she saw your talent,” Preacher snapped, his voice low, furious.

Seychelle wished she could gracefully exit, but it was too late. She just had to sit there and hope neither of them noticed her.

Preacher didn’t stop there. “I study hard. You don’t. You drink. You do anything but work at learning. I even offered to study with you, but you were too good to do anything like that. I was too far beneath you. The truth is, talent-wise, I am. Discipline-wise, you don’t stand a chance. You want to feel sorry for yourself and blame everyone but you. You might have a shit past, baby, but I guarantee you I can match that past any day of the week. The difference is no one is going to fuck with my future. So you want to get drunk and get beat up, do it in someone else’s bar. I’m taking your ass home tonight. My advice: sober up and take what Hannah’s offering you. You’re not going to find a better woman to follow. I’ve got a few things to do before I can leave, so come inside, stay in the back and drink coffee and don’t piss me off any more than you already have.”

Seychelle expected Sabelia to protest, to say something back, but she didn’t say anything at all. She kept her head down as Preacher escorted her back into the bar. He towered over the woman. He still looked furious, and Sabelia looked very subdued. Seychelle caught a glimpse of her face as they walked past her. She definitely had bruises and swelling. Seychelle could see why Preacher was so angry.

That part of her that needed to heal others had her on her feet and trailing slowly after them. She knew Savage wouldn’t be happy if she followed Preacher and Sabelia back into the bar and took on some of Sabelia’s injuries, but it was difficult to resist.

“There you are.” Shari’s strident voice jarred her nerves.

Seychelle turned to face her, aware of Fatei gliding close to her. Shari wasn’t alone. Seychelle hadn’t expected her to be. Melinda was with her, but also the two Diamondbacks who had been seated close at the table. At least, they rounded the corner of the building a few feet behind them. Behind the two Diamondbacks came Brandon, but he stayed right at the corner.

Seychelle glanced toward the bar, but Preacher and Sabelia had already disappeared inside the building. Seychelle wondered if Brandon had anything to do with Shari’s hatred of her.

“Shit,” Fatei hissed under his breath. “Come on, Seychelle. Let’s go.”

“Were you looking for me?” Seychelle asked, trying to get a feel for Shari’s voice.

“Yes,” Shari snapped. “You don’t stand a chance in hell of keeping him. You know that, don’t you? A prissy little thing like you can’t begin to know what he likes.”

“Do I know you?” Seychelle asked, her gaze moving over Shari’s expression. Her eyes looked glassy. Drunk? Was she hypnotized? Did she really hate Seychelle that much? And what was she saying about Savage?

“Seychelle.” Fatei indicated the back door. “You need to get inside.”

“Run away,” Shari sneered.

“What exactly do you want?” Seychelle challenged, ignoring Fatei. He put a restraining hand on her arm, and she shook it off, her chin up, her eyes cool as she regarded Shari.