Seychelle nodded. “Czar was very clear on the rules.”
“If things go south and I’m arrested, or you are, or we both are, and you’re offered a deal of some kind, there are no deals. Do you understand? Not to save me. Trust Absinthe to do his job.” Savage issued the command as they walked together toward the living room.
“Why would either of us be arrested, Savage?”
“I honestly have no idea, baby, but it could happen. Pierce was going to manufacture evidence against Alena. He could have just as easily manufactured evidence against me—or you. Although that seems rather ludicrous. Just stay quiet as much as possible and let them talk. We want to stall, appear cooperative, and let Absinthe get here.” He looked her over quickly as the doorbell chimed. “You good with this? Can you handle this?”
Seychelle lifted her chin at him, her blue gaze steady. “I’m with you.”
He went to the front door, taking his time, Seychelle one step behind, her fingers in his back pocket. Those fingers were as steady as her eyes had been. Savage nodded to the two men standing on his front porch. “Gentlemen. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“Savage.” Jonas Harrington, the local sheriff, and Jackson Deveau, the sheriff’s deputy, greeted him. Jonas’s gaze shifted to Seychelle. He smiled at her. “Seychelle. Nice to see you. It’s been a while.”
“It has. How’s everything going?”
“Good. We need to talk to Savage about a matter that’s come up.”
Savage raised an eyebrow. “You need to speak to me?” He sighed and glanced back at Seychelle as if to say he’d told her so. “Since I haven’t done a damn thing lately, I can’t imagine why, but you may as well come in.” He stepped back and allowed the two men into his home.
Jonas took in the high ceilings and walls of glass with the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. “Nice place, Savage.”
Savage waved the two men toward the sofas. “Thanks. It suits us.” He threaded his fingers through Seychelle’s and took the sofa opposite Jonas. “May as well sit instead of slinking around, Jackson. You’re not going to find any contraband.”
Jackson lifted an eyebrow, remaining silent, but he stopped moving around the room and looking through the glass at the views from every direction. He came back to drop into one of the chairs at an angle where he could easily see their faces and cover the door at the same time. Jackson was known for not taking any chances.
“It might be best if we talk to you alone, Savage,” Jonas suggested. He did look uneasy, as if whatever he needed to speak with Savage about, he might not want Seychelle to hear.
“That isn’t necessary. My woman can stay. I don’t have secrets from her.”
Jonas sighed and shook his head. He looked at Seychelle apologetically. “I’m just going to get right to it, then, Savage. I have to read you your rights before we go any further.” He proceeded to do so. There was a small silence after he did. Jonas asked the standard question. “Did you understand your rights, and do you wish to have an attorney present during questioning?”
“What’s this about?” Seychelle asked before Savage could answer. “Jonas? Are you arresting Savage for something? What do you think he’s done?”
Savage remained silent. He brought her knuckles to the warmth of his mouth, his mind quickly running through the possibilities. Had the bodies been found in the RV they’d used to interrogate the hit men? If so, had they left any evidence behind that any member of Torpedo Ink had been involved? Had anyone recognized the burned-out RV or the incinerated bodies? They’d burned them down to ash before the RV had gone over a steep ravine. They’d chosen that specific ravine ahead of time because it was difficult to see from any direction and the likelihood of discovery for a few years would be extremely low.
Thankfully, he heard the roar of pipes, two bikes coming fast. He sat back on the sofa. “I believe that would be Absinthe now. We can just wait for him, as I have no idea where the hell you’re going with this.”
Absinthe and Czar entered without knocking. They sauntered in, nodding to the two men. Absinthe had a briefcase with him. He immediately sat down facing Jonas. “What can we do for you, Sheriff?”
“I’ve read Savage his rights,” Jonas explained. “Are you willing to answer questions, Savage?”
“As long as Absinthe is agreeable.”
“How well did you know Tawny Farmer?” Jonas asked. He purposely avoided Seychelle’s gaze, uncomfortable with her in the room.
Savage’s thumb slid across the back of Seychelle’s hand very gently. “Tawny was a patch chaser, hung around the club for a while. I fucked her mouth a couple of times, but we didn’t exactly hang out or talk. I’m not the kind of man who had a lot of conversation with women I used that way, as a rule. So I knew her, but not very well.”
“Were you seeing her recently?”
“Seeing her? Seeing her how?” Savage sounded genuinely puzzled. He looked at Absinthe as if for guidance. “I don’t know what you mean, Jonas. Seeing her how? You’ll have to be more specific. And recently as in how recently?”
“Were you having sex with her recently?” Jonas asked bluntly.
“Hell no. I’m engaged. I’m with Seychelle.”
“You were on a run recently. Did you have sex with her then? Sex is covering oral as well as penetrating her.”
Savage was starting to get pissed. “Did you not hear what I said? I never penetrated her. I fucked her mouth a hell of a long time ago. Certainly not on the run. I had no interest in having sex with her. Or having her blow me, if that’s your next fucking question. I’m in love with my fiancée and don’t want any other fucking woman to touch me.”
“Savage,” Absinthe said quietly. “Jonas is just doing his job.”
“Seychelle was with me on the run,” Savage bit out between clenched teeth. “She was with me Saturday night when we fucked liked rabbits. She was with me when we drove home in the truck Sunday morning, leaving the campground around three A.M. because she was so damn sick, she couldn’t stop puking. And she’s been with me this entire time, right here in this house, ever since.”
“You drove home in the truck Sunday at three o’clock in the morning because she was sick?” Jonas echoed. “Why was she sick?”
“I don’t know, Jonas, why do people get sick?” Savage snapped.
“I can’t drink alcohol or take most kinds of pain relievers; I’m allergic,” Seychelle supplied. “I was pretty sick.”
Jonas flicked his gaze toward Jackson, and Savage wanted to tear his head off his shoulders. He knew Jonas was confirming that Seychelle told the truth. The club would have done the same thing, asking Absinthe, but it still angered him that Jonas didn’t believe Seychelle. Jackson was Jonas’s lie detector, just as Absinthe was Torpedo Ink’s.
“How did you get your bike home?” Jonas asked.
“Mechanic or Transporter drove it home.” Savage turned to Seychelle just to give himself a little breathing room. “Which reminds me, babe, I still haven’t picked up my bike. I’ll have to get on that.”