Savage Road (Torpedo Ink 7) - Page 16

He sat up, swearing under his breath, his bare feet hitting the floor. She was absolutely right. They had been expecting trouble, or at least ready for it.

“I was the only one not informed, yet you were using me. They all were.”

“Seychelle.” He turned to look at her. “Baby, it wasn’t like that, and you know it.”

“It was exactly like that. You needed my voice and you didn’t want to include me in knowing whatever it was that was happening, so you just didn’t bother to give me the information. Isn’t that right? Club business. I don’t need to know. I can serve you. Serve the club. But I don’t need to know.”

“Damn it, Seychelle. I’m your man. Why the fuck do I have to explain myself and what I’m doing to you? Why would I have to spell anything out? I say it, you should trust me enough to just fuckin’ do what I say because I say it.” Adrenaline poured through his veins, and he caught up his jeans and yanked them up.

“I did exactly that, didn’t I, Savage?” she said. “I did what you said. If I go on the stupid run with you, I’ll most likely do what you say, even though I’ll be the only one that doesn’t know what’s going on.”

He spun around to face her as he dragged his T-shirt over his head. “You’re going on the run with me, Seychelle.” It was a command, nothing less. He was so done with the argument because, damn it to hell, she was right about that too. She wouldn’t know what was going on because he wasn’t about to tell her he was going to kill a couple of people after he got information out of them first. And yeah, the club knew all about that shit. He stomped into his boots and pulled on his jacket and was gone, slamming the door like a fucking child.

What was wrong with him? If she’d walked out on him, he’d be after her, throw her over his shoulder and smack her ass so hard she wouldn’t be able to sit down for a month. She was right, and he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He didn’t have a way to combat what she was saying, so he walked out instead of having the courage to just admit it.

He wanted to hit something. Anything. Head down to San Francisco to the fight club and get a few matches. He sucked at relationships. Five minutes in, and he blew it already because she spoke the truth and he had no answer for it.

He settled his ass on the familiar leather seat of his matte-black Night Rod Special with its dull gunmetal-gray trim, blacked out chrome and the image of a dripping skull. He found he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to go anywhere, not without her. Not leaving her like this. She had all the courage in the world to answer him honestly, and he’d run like a coward because he knew he couldn’t give her the truth. He’d promised her to be all in, and yet he was the one holding back. He expected everything from her, and she knew it. She’d called him on his shit, and instead of taking it like a man he’d thrown a tantrum.

“Fuck.” He was off the bike and stomping back to the cottage.

Seychelle sat in the same place, but she had a T-shirt on and her knees pulled up, arms wrapped tight around them. Her head was down, and she didn’t look up at him when he walked in and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Shouldn’t have stormed out like a fuckin’ kid, baby. I didn’t know how to make this right and took the coward’s way out. I don’t know how couples do this. You have one of those books you’re always reading?” He ran his hand over the back of her head. Down that long fall of silky hair.

“I wish I did, honey.” Her voice was muffled. She didn’t look up.

His stomach dropped. Flipped. His heart clenched. “Oh hell, Seychelle. You’re not crying, are you? Baby, don’t do that. I mean it. You can’t cry.”

“You like me to cry.”

Oh Bog. She was crying. The real deal. He felt a little panicky. “No, it isn’t the same. Stop it. We’ll figure this out. Maybe not right away, but it will get done. We’re new at this shit.”

When she continued to cry, he picked her up and carried her to the chair so he could hold her on his lap. Cradling her to his chest, he just held her, cupping the back of her head, trying to soothe her with his body. Clearly, he wasn’t good with words.

After a few minutes she seemed to quiet, but he continued to hold her, rocking her gently, liking her in his arms. “This is my fault, baby. I don’t know what I’m doing yet. I’ll figure it out, Seychelle. You just have to hang in there with me. I know it isn’t easy, but I swear, if you do, in the end, I’ll be worth it.”

Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance
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