Annihilation Road (17 page)

Seychelle moistened her lips and pushed back her hair. “I saw Brandon come out of her house. Sahara’s house. Well, I don’t know who owns it. According to Sahara, he has the right to come and go whenever he wants. Of course that means he has the right to fuck her whenever he wants as well. No matter that he lives with that young girl. And he compares Sahara to her the entire time. Tells her that she’s let herself go. That she’s fat and no one would ever want her. That she’s so lucky he bothers with her.”

“He sounds wonderful.”

“That’s the problem. She believes every word he says because he uses his voice to persuade her. If he leaves her alone long enough, she begins to do things for herself. She starts to remember the woman she was, but he always comes back, and he takes everything away again. I’m afraid for her.”

The weariness in her voice made Savage afraid for Seychelle. She seemed like she had slid down a bit in the bed. He pulled off his boots and climbed onto the bed beside her, lifting her and then placing her between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt cold to him.

“Did he hurt her? Physically? Clearly, he did emotionally. Did he hurt her physically?”

A little shudder went through Seychelle’s body. “Yes. When he insists on having sex with her. But no, he never hits her. He threatens her and she cowers down. But then he tells her she isn’t worth even hitting. She isn’t worth what he would do to a dog. She told me she apologizes for all the trouble she gives him. She told him she would leave, but then he gets mad and says she’s ungrateful to him for all he’s done for her. When he leaves, if he’s been really mean, she hurts herself.” She whispered the last like a confession.

Savage rocked her to try to comfort her. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m sorry you had to see her like that. No one deserves that. What can we do for her? Does she have a family? Can we call them and bring them here?”

“She wants to go home, but she’s afraid to. He separated her from all her friends. From her family.”

“That’s a typical abuser. Once he’s got her separated, he can do whatever he wants with her. She has nowhere to go. No one to talk to.”

“In this case, he’s poisoned everyone against her. Even Doris is conditioned to think Sahara’s the one abusing poor Brandon. He has the ability to turn everyone against her, making them believe she’s mentally ill. She believes him, Savage. He’s so evil. He takes pleasure in making her believe that she’s ugly and unworthy, that her own family doesn’t love or want her. He doesn’t have to physically hurt her. She hurts herself.”

There was a little sob in her voice that broke his heart. He didn’t even know he had a heart that could break. “Baby, don’t.” He whispered it against her ear. “We’ll fix it. We’ll find a way to help her.”

“I think it’s too late. Even if we can get her out of there, if he finds her, she’ll go back to him if she hears his voice. He’s programmed her. She can’t break away. I couldn’t get her away.” This time there was guilt, even shame, in her voice.

Savage tightened his arms. “Seychelle. This woman has been with him for years. One visit isn’t going to undo everything he’s done. You know that. You aren’t thinking clearly. You just panicked because she’s in a bad way and you always want to help. We’ll take care of it. Did you manage to get her parents’ names and number?”

She shook her head. “Almost. At the last minute she wouldn’t give it to me. I had her at the phone, ready to call her mother, and then she was sobbing, and she wouldn’t do it.”

“What about a name? Her parents’ names. First and last. Are they together?”

“Yes, her parents are still together. She talked about them very lovingly. Valerie and Harry Higgens. They live somewhere in Oregon, but I have no idea where. It’s a big state.”

“But, baby, I told you about Code. He’s our ace in the
hole. How do you think I know where you are all the time?” He pulled out his phone and held it out in front of them both, texting fast, one-handed. He used their encryption that told Code it was a priority. He gave the data he had on the couple, which wasn’t much. “Tell me anything else you have. What kind of work, anything at all she might have talked about?”

“Valerie was a teacher. Sixth grade, I think. She won awards. She’s retired now, although she does substitute. And she will tutor. Harry owned a feed store, but he sold it and retired as well. They bought a little property and he keeps bees. He’s very passionate about being a beekeeper, and they have lavender fields on their property. He sells lavender honey.”

Savage quickly relayed the information.

“How did you learn to text that fast?”

He nuzzled her neck. She always smelled delicious. He didn’t need to be a beekeeper to have honey. Her hair was honey colored, and she smelled like a mixture of wild strawberries and honey. “When we were kids, we used to tap on our thighs or arms or shoulders, whatever was handy. We had to be fast so no one would see. We used our own code. We still use it.”

“You really were raised in a prison? All of you? Every member of Torpedo Ink? Is that why you’re all so close? I can see it when you’re together.”

“It was a kind of prison. It was supposed to be a school. At the time, there was a man by the name of Sorbacov who backed a certain candidate for the presidency. Each of us had parents or grandparents, someone raising us, who were opposed to that man. Sorbacov was very powerful and he had access to a branch of the military that was secretive. He commanded those soldiers to murder the parents of his opponents and take the children to be trained as assets for the country.”

He felt her shock. It was like a terrible wave that raced through her body, nearly buckling her. She turned in his
arms to look at him. Her blue eyes went dark with sorrow for him.

“That’s the most horrific thing I’ve ever heard, Savage. They
murdered
your parents?”

“They did. They took my older sisters, Reaper and me to their school to be trained. My sisters died there.”

He didn’t tell her they were raped and beaten to death. Or that they had been thrown down the stairs into the basement to die slowly in front of their traumatized baby brothers, who had also been raped and beaten. She didn’t need to hear that shit. She was too compassionate as it was. She felt every damn thing anyone told her.

“We were all in the same boat, so to speak. Czar was our savior. He was determined we were going to learn to stay human beings. We didn’t have adults to teach us all the rules of polite society, but we made up our code of honor and we stick to it.”

Savage distanced himself from the story, telling it as if it had happened to someone else. He wasn’t going to open that door, not when Seychelle was around him. He couldn’t take a chance that she would hear the screams and see blood trickling like little intriguing beacons. Rivulets, tiny streaks of red on perfect canvas. Or how those screams were quieted. How the red streaks were tamed over time and the patterns turned into something else, something beautiful and pleasurable but equally as monstrous.

If he asked her to stay with him, to love him and be a partner to him, he would have to disclose everything to her. She would have to know the worst of him. It wouldn’t be a play dungeon for her. Her life would be the same horrific cycle as his. She was shivering in his arms right now. He was rocking her and holding her tight, comforting her because she had seen evil, but the one doing the comforting was the devil.

He wanted her so bad, the taste of wild strawberry and honey mixed with the salt of her tears was in his mouth. On
his tongue. Down his throat. The memory of his handprints on the perfection of her sweet ass was burned into his mind. That shade of dark purplish red he’d brought out on her skin. She colored so easily. His cock was a fuckin’ steel rod, the monster roaring with demands just having the image in his head. Lust pounded through his bloodstream, a violent, hot wave, the red ribbon banding strong and brutal. She was the one. The only. She was
his
. He was hers. Soul to soul. He knew it. What did a monster have in common with an angel?

“You were all children.”

“Most of us were toddlers when we were taken. We learned our lessons fast.” His phone was already vibrating. Going crazy with Code’s information. “Look at this man. He’s so damn good. All of what? Five minutes max? Under five? He’s got their location in Oregon, address and phone number. We can call them, baby. Talk to them. Sound them out, see if they really are good people. Absinthe, one of my brothers, he can hear the truth. No one can get past him.”

“Sahara sounded as if they were very loving parents. She was very close to them at one time, but little by little that went away. She moved here to be with Brandon, but then he took her phone away and gave her a different cell. He could see her text messages, and anyone she called. He didn’t want her calling unless he was there. He timed her calls. Eventually, when her mother started asking too many questions, mostly because Sahara would say alarming things now and then, Brandon persuaded her to block her parents. They can’t get through to her by phone or email or any type of social media. They sent the cops to do a wellness checkup, and she told them she’d had a fight with her parents and didn’t want to talk to them.”

“You believe if you call them yourself, they’ll be receptive to the call?”

“I do. But I don’t know what I’d say. Sahara would
probably lie to them if they tried to talk to her. She’s so brainwashed at this point.”

“What if they just drove straight here from Oregon and our club guarded her house? You go in with the parents, pack her bag and get her to come out, get in the car and go. You’d have to take the phone away from her. Her parents would have to know she’d need a place with no way for him to get in touch with her until she was strong enough to resist him.”

Seychelle thought it over, frowning, her teeth biting down over and over on her lower lip. “I think, if her parents cooperated, we could make it work, but honestly, Savage, we’re running out of time. He’s got her to the point where she might really harm herself. She’s very confused.”

“Then let’s not waste any time. You make the call. I’ll just sit here, hold you and listen. If they aren’t receptive, I’ll call Czar and we’ll move her somewhere she’ll be safe. I promise, baby, we’ll get her out of the situation.”

“Thanks for believing me when there’s no proof.”

“I don’t need any proof other than your word. You went into the house. You saw her. Take the phone and make the call. See what they have to say.”

She took his phone, glancing over her shoulder at him with a look he didn’t deserve but wished he could see for the rest of his life. Her knight in shining armor. More than that. She looked at him like the sun rose and set with him. He didn’t deserve it, but he wanted to see it every damn day—for the rest of his life.

The call to Sahara’s parents was met with joyful tears that turned to worry once they heard everything Seychelle had to tell them. They indicated they would drive out as soon as they could get someone to watch over their farm. Savage took the phone and quietly made arrangements to have them come to the Caspar Inn, where Brandon would have no inkling that Sahara’s parents were anywhere close.

Nearly two weeks later, when Sahara’s parents were in Caspar, Seychelle visited Doris and casually found out when Brandon had last been by the house to see Sahara and if Doris had noticed any kind of a pattern to his visits. Doris was very chatty. She said Brandon wouldn’t be around for another couple of days, but he would be checking on Sahara soon enough. Immediately, Seychelle texted Savage, who let his club know. They contacted Sahara’s parents to come immediately. Members of the club escorted them to Sahara’s home.

Seychelle went to visit Sahara while Savage sat with Doris, ensuring that she didn’t contact Brandon, just in case he had programmed her to let him know if Sahara had any
visitors. Sahara hadn’t seen Brandon for almost two weeks, and she was much more amenable to packing a small bag.

When her parents came to the door, Sahara had a total breakdown and Czar carried her to the car and put her in it. She was surrounded by the club members, so it was difficult for anyone driving by on the road to see what was going on. Savage had asked Doris for a cup of coffee, and she was in the house when Seychelle emerged with Sahara. By the time Doris returned, the car was gone, escorted out of town by the club members, and Seychelle was seated once more on Doris’s porch.

They could only hope that Brandon didn’t find a way to contact Sahara or that she didn’t try to go back to him. Later, Doris told her Brandon was worried that Sahara had run off. Her phone had been left behind and he had no way to contact her. He asked Doris if she’d seen anything. She mentioned that Seychelle had visited with Sahara. Seychelle knew Savage was concerned that Brandon might come to the cottage, using her visit as an excuse.

Still, as worried as Savage seemed, Seychelle knew she’d lost him. It wasn’t like Savage didn’t come every night. He did. She’d wake up to him stretching out on her bed, his arm slung around her waist, and everything in her would settle, but they were back to being just friends. There were no more sinful, dirty lessons. He was very, very careful with her.

She knew he cared for her, but he had backed off, making it clear she gave him peace, just like when they’d first met. He liked spending time with her. He even needed it. She knew better than to let him stay with her, but he was so tempting. It wasn’t just his body, and he was rock hard—all of him—just apparently not for her.

She wasn’t going to live a long life. That was the bottom line. She didn’t have that advantage. There wasn’t a rosy future for her. When Savage had asked the question about whether or not she would rather be in a comfortable relationship and have children or have a man love her wildly, she
knew she wanted to be loved. She needed to be loved. She wanted to love someone with insane, crazy intensity. She’d found that man. She knew she had.

Savage deserved to be loved. He didn’t think he did. She could see into him, into a place where he was vulnerable, a place he didn’t even see because he kept it locked up so tight. Somehow, when she’d saved his life, they’d made some kind of connection she couldn’t explain, and she didn’t even care to, but she knew he was a good man and that he could have been the right man for her.

In spite of not having had relationships, she wanted to try everything with her partner. She wanted to live life large. She wanted to die with no regrets. After her parents had died, she’d been so ill. So exhausted. She’d been barely able to walk across the floor, and she’d gone to a doctor. After running a multitude of tests on her, he’d given her the bad news—she had the internal organs of an old woman. Her heart was worn out. She didn’t have heart disease like her father, but she might as well have. Her body wasn’t going to last long.

She took vitamins. She ate right. She walked. She did the best she could to prolong her life. She noticed that when she sang in bars with bands, that feeling of being drained often came over her, just the way it did when she had tried to help Sahara recently. She chose crappy bands so she wouldn’t want to sing with them for very long.

She knew Savage thought he was the only reason she hadn’t gone to the bar in Caspar and auditioned with the band there, but she had a feeling the musicians were very good. She knew if she heard them, it would be difficult to resist joining them. She’d never really had the opportunity to be with a good band, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to people in the audience if they were really ill.

She’d admitted to Savage that she had no control. She just hadn’t told him what exactly she had no control over. It was a terrible compulsion she couldn’t overcome, to try to relieve suffering when people were sick. She suspected that was what
was shortening her life, but she just couldn’t stop herself, so she limited her singing gigs and the amount of time she spent with people she didn’t know, especially crowds.

She wanted to date. She wanted to have crazy, wild sexual experiences, but when she met men, they weren’t in any way exciting to her. She found she didn’t respond physically to the men she encountered. Everything was so different with Savage. Every nerve ending in her body went on high alert when he was in the same room with her. If he touched her, just a whisper of a touch, it was like a small splash of hot wax on her skin. When he spanked her . . . that was pure fire.

Savage felt as if he needed her. The pain he caused was heartfelt, emotional, but he didn’t deplete her body. He filled her up. He gave her energy. Exhilarated her in ways she didn’t yet understand.

The nights with him were always fun. He wanted to play that silly game of honest questions. Sometimes he asked her what she’d had for dinner, and if she hadn’t eaten more than a piece of fruit, which was pretty much her standard dinner, he would smack her on the butt, get up and go to her fridge to find eggs, cheese and mushrooms. He always complained that she didn’t eat meat, but he was teasing her. He brought meat for himself and he always cooked his food separately. He was thoughtful in ways she didn’t expect.

Seychelle found herself looking at Savage the way she did most times he came, so happy inside she didn’t know if she should allow their strange friendship to continue. He never told her when he was going to show up, he just did. Right now, he was scrambling eggs with cheese, and this time he had added hash browns to the mix. She knew he was always worried that she wasn’t eating enough, which was silly.

“You know I’m going to gain weight if you keep insisting I eat in the evening,” she pointed out. “I make it a practice never to eat after six o’clock.”

He didn’t turn around. “That’s bullshit.”

“It isn’t. In case you haven’t bothered to notice, I’m
already carrying a few extra pounds.” She might as well point it out. He had sharp eyes. She couldn’t imagine that he hadn’t catalogued that fact. “If I eat at night, I’m going to just pack on more weight, Savage.”

“You have a perfect figure, Seychelle, and you have to know it. No man wants a fuckin’ stick in his bed. You’ve got great tits and an ass most men would kill for their woman to have. You need to eat. You want to go for a walk after we eat, just say so, I’m up for that. We can walk on the headlands. We do most nights anyway.”

Savage always threw out compliments so casually, as if they were facts and he was just stating them. He almost sounded annoyed, and he was getting more irritable as each day passed. He definitely wasn’t trying to flatter her.

“Nice of you to think so, Savage. I never thought about it that way. I guess I’ll eat the eggs and go for the walk with you.” She kept the challenge out of her voice. The last few nights he’d come, he’d just wanted to lie on the bed with her. The entire last week he’d gotten edgier.

She felt the difference in him when he got close to her. He felt more dangerous. His skin was hotter. His rage closer to the surface. His blue eyes actually had gone from being flat and cold to holding flames that burned with a fire she found she dreaded. That well of rage in him was growing, and it wasn’t good. No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop it. She slowed it down. She soothed him. She sometimes made those flames fall back to smaller embers, but they flared right back up, burning hotter than ever the moment her hands were off him.

Seychelle was just a little nervous around him when before she hadn’t been at all. She felt the house was too small for him and he was a bit like a tiger in a cage, pacing restlessly, and she was his meal. The need for violence rode him hard. She could see it in him. Feel it on him. It was like a vicious animal alive in him, ripping at his insides, shredding his intestines with cruel, spiteful claws, demanding its pound of flesh.

The Whip Master. The Master of Pain. She didn’t dare
touch him when he was like this, and yet everything she was demanded that she do so to ease that terrible need for violence. For hurting another human being. He looked at her with his blue eyes as if only she was right for him, and she not only wanted to be that woman for him, she needed to be.

“Honey, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” She held her breath, afraid he would. Afraid he wouldn’t. In spite of his abruptness, he treated her gently as a rule, but she didn’t know how he would be when he was like this, and there was a part of her that was afraid of finding out. She didn’t want to lose him, and yet she knew she didn’t dare grow any closer.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers, and those blue flames leapt and burned, scorching her before he turned back to the eggs.

“Sometimes I can go through some pretty bad patches, baby, nothing I haven’t been through before. Just gets a little rough. That’s why I’m hanging around so much. Does it bother you, having me staying so long?”

He had been—not just nights, he’d been there mornings and even, a few times, into the afternoon. He didn’t talk much, just watched her play the guitar or walked with her on the headlands or into Sea Haven. She spent time visiting several elderly couples and two widows, bringing them groceries, and he went with her on her visits. Again, he didn’t say much, but he carried the groceries in and put them away.

At the home of Rebecca Jetspun, a widow, he’d gotten under the sink and repaired a leak while she’d visited. At the home of one of the couples, Dirk and Harriet Meadows, he did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen until it was sparkling while she sat and visited. Dirk had a hip replacement and was going through his therapy and not the best of company for his wife. Harriet was very glad to see Seychelle. Savage just shook his head when Harriet tried to pay him.

Penelope and Forest Potts needed extensive weeding done in their greenhouse. The couple had gotten sick and hadn’t been able to keep up with their vegetable garden. It
was their food source. They canned for the winter. Savage took care of it while Seychelle visited with them and took down what they might need on her next visit.

Eden Ravard was a favorite, and one neither of them minded visiting. She loved to play cards and was always upbeat, even when her entire kitchen flooded and Savage waded through two inches of water to shut down the main, pump out the water and then fix the pipe. That had been a total disaster, and two of his brothers from Torpedo Ink had come to help.

“You’re taking too long to answer me, baby.” Savage looked at her over his shoulder. “Are you getting sick of having me around?”

“Of course not. I like having you here with me. You’re so good to all my friends.”

He waved her toward the kitchen table. She had already set out two dinner plates. He pushed eggs and potatoes onto her plate and then his. The bacon and cheese were already scrambled into his eggs. Now that the aroma of actual food wafted throughout her house, she found she was really hungry.

“I like how you call them all your friends. You haven’t even been in Sea Haven that long and you already know all the elderly people who need extra assistance. I went back to the club and told Czar we should have been on that. He was already happy with us helping Doris with her porch. Give us a better rep.”

“That’s not why you helped them.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Others don’t know, Savage,” she said. “I do.” She forked the eggs into her mouth and savored the flavor. The man could cook. Really. Anything. “You didn’t think twice about helping them, and it wasn’t because you were looking for goodwill in return.”

“You have to stop thinking I’m a good man. I’m not.”

“You have to stop thinking you’re all bad. You’re not,” she countered.

“Damn it, Seychelle, has it occurred to you that maybe I’m trying to save your ass?”

Her eyebrow shot up. “Just how are you doing that? By coming here all the time and crawling into my bed? By showing me how sweet you are? How are you saving me? You’re seducing me, Savage, little by little. You know you are, so just own it.”