Hank turned toward them. “You don’t scare me, fucker . . .”
Savage hit him in the stomach so hard Hank collapsed in on himself. His knee caught the guitarist under the chin, straightening him back up. He proceeded to beat him viciously until Keys stepped in. Savage turned and hit Joseph. When he staggered back and went down, a hairbrush slid from his pocket onto the ground. Both men looked at it. Joseph made a grab for it, but Savage’s hand got there first.
“What were you doing with this?”
“She wanted me to have it.”
Savage looked up at Maestro and then Destroyer, shaking his head. The brush had belonged to Seychelle’s mother. Seychelle kept it on her nightstand, but she didn’t use it. He handed it to Maestro, and as he did, Joseph let out an animalistic growl and swung his fist at Savage’s jaw. Savage slipped the punch easily and proceeded to beat the man nearly unconscious. Again, it was Keys who stopped him before he went too far.
“Take them to their car. Get them away from here. This is their only chance. And get their phones to Code.”
“You know Arnold is never going to stop,” Maestro said. “That was pure bullshit with the brush. Fantasy stalker mentality. He was fixated on her long before he approached her as a scout. They have to have some kind of history.”
Savage nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks for the help tonight.”
He watched Destroyer heft Joseph Arnold to his shoulder, and Maestro followed suit with Hank Waitright. They disappeared into the fog and he went inside the cottage, flexing his fingers before locking the door. Seychelle was in bed. He put the hairbrush back on her nightstand.
“Arnold stole it. Had it in his pocket,” he said, his voice gruff. She looked so horrified he couldn’t scold her for leaving her place so easily broken into. He just stripped and padded barefoot and naked into the bathroom. “Tell me about you and Joseph. How did you meet?” He turned the shower on.
“He was at a bar in San Francisco where I was singing. It was a little dive, really, but I liked it.”
Of course. Savage suppressed a groan. Anyone hearing her voice would be enthralled. She had magic. She could cast a spell.
“He bought me a drink.”
“Tell me you didn’t drink it.” Knowing Joseph Arnold, the man would have put a drug in her drink. No question, he would have.
“No, I’m not that fond of alcohol. I did sit and talk with him. He appeared charming at first, but the longer I sat and talked with him, the less I wanted to go out with him. That’s always the way. I’m attracted on the surface, but then I’m with a man for a few minutes and that attraction just disappears.”
“He asked you out.” He made it a statement.
He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, snagging a towel and drying himself off. Normally, he would have put on a pair of jeans, but it was a little too late for that. He just walked to the bed and slid under the sheet. She wasn’t under the covers. She sat in her usual position at the headboard. He reached up and caught her hips, tugging until she sprawled out, lying on her back.
Savage rolled over and pillowed his head on her belly, wrapping his arms around her hips. It was fast becoming his favorite place to sleep. “You told him no, and he didn’t like that, did he?”
Seychelle’s fingers went to his scalp, immediately beginning to massage his head. “No, he definitely didn’t like it. He asked me out numerous times. He got . . . pushy. I quit singing with the band to get away from him. It wasn’t a big deal. They weren’t a great band, and I never stuck around for very long. I hadn’t moved up here at that time. I was . . . tired.”
He tipped his head up to look at her. “What do you mean, ‘tired’?”
Her fingers never stopped moving in that circular motion that felt like caring to him. He found himself tracing those same patterns into her hip and then down her thigh.
“After my father passed away, I was worn out. Sometimes I’d join a band because I needed the company, but it took a long time to get back on my feet, and singing was draining.”
“Arnold always found you?”
“He did. Eventually, he came up with the scout gig. If he really is one, he can’t be very good at it. He just needs to hear the word no. He doesn’t seem to know what it means.”
Savage knew Joseph Arnold wasn’t going to ever hear it where Seychelle was concerned.
“You locked the windows and back door, but you deliberately didn’t remind me to lock the front door, didn’t you, Savage? You knew they were going to come to my house.” Seychelle continued to massage his scalp, her fingers magic.