Seychelle sent her a vapid smile. “You have no idea. I lay awake at night and plot how best to get Savage riled up against the president of his club just to cause trouble. It gives me such a rush.”
“Lana,” Alena cautioned. She waved a dismissing hand, as if that would clear the air between all of them. “Stop acting silly. She doesn’t mean anything, Seychelle. What are they fighting about?”
“I wouldn’t know. Savage told me to stay put and he’d only be a minute. That was a little while ago. I could tell the exchange was getting heated, but I have no idea why.” She turned her gaze back on Lana. “You know, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t pretend to be my friend when we’re in Sea Haven, around all the ladies having tea. You told me you thought I was so good for Savage, and now you act like I’m poison for him. I don’t mind someone despising me without reason, but being two-faced is difficult to take.” Seychelle thought she might as well throw down the gauntlet. What did she have to lose?
Lana’s face flushed under Maestro’s sudden, penetrating scrutiny. “It’s hardly like that.”
Seychelle’s eyebrow shot up. “Really? Because it feels exactly like that. An attack on me every time you get anywhere near me. You didn’t want me here. You still don’t.”
“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Seychelle looked at all three of their faces. “None of you do. So what exactly do you think Savage should do when he needs to get rid of his rage? Beat someone to death? Or are you all three advocates of him cheating on me?” She thought she might as well put that out there and find out just who was supporting Savage and her as a couple and who wasn’t.
Maestro and Lana both frowned at her and then looked at each other. Alena looked at her boots. She understood what it felt like to have someone she thought was with her exclusively betray her.
Lana shrugged. “Cheating isn’t the same as making sure Savage is taken care of properly in a bad situation.”
“You clearly don’t think I’m capable of doing what perfect strangers do.” Seychelle tried not to think about the amusement in Savage’s voice or the smirk on his face the night before when she’d asked him questions about giving blow jobs.
Lana shrugged again, her face a mask of indifference, showing she didn’t believe Seychelle capable of meeting Savage’s needs.
Alena’s breath hissed out. “Lana.” That was a clear reprimand.
Seychelle flicked her gaze to Maestro’s face. Like Savage, he wore a mask, but his eyes held compassion and also an emotion that told her he didn’t think she should be there either. She turned away from them without speaking again. She’d known she really didn’t have friends or allies in Savage’s club in spite of him telling her she did.
Torpedo Ink remained their biggest problem, and she knew it probably always would. She would have to find a way to come to terms with it if she was going to remain with him, and that meant she would have to convince him to allow her to stay separate from them as much as she could. She ignored the pang of hurt. She’d wanted to be part of his family, but truthfully, she was used to being alone. She had a good life without the club. She liked her older friends, and they kept her busy. She didn’t want to be used for her talent and have the members of the club support her partner cheating on her.
“Seychelle.” Maestro’s voice was gentle.
She didn’t turn around but kept up her pacing, eyes on Savage. He was, thankfully, heading her way. “What is it?”
“No one meant to hurt you.”
“I told Lana I preferred honesty, and I do. It isn’t always easy to hear what people think of you, especially the family of the man you love, but better it be honesty than lies.”
“You’re misinterpreting what we’re saying.”
She shook her head. “No, Maestro, I don’t think I am. You want Savage to be with another woman, not me. I’m not good enough to get him through a bad time. I think that’s clear. Torpedo Ink is a closed club unless the woman is a fighter like Scarlet or Lissa. There’s no respect for someone like me. I think that’s obvious. I feel a little sorry for you. You’re going to find a woman and you’re going to blow it so bad with her. Your lovely little family isn’t going to help you either, because she isn’t going to fit into their image of what she should be.”
Before he could answer her, Savage was there, his strong fingers wrapping around the nape of her neck. “You ready to go, baby?”
Seychelle shrugged, her heart sinking. She had been hoping the argument with Czar had been about the two of them turning around and going home.
Savage turned them toward the line of Harleys. Already, the others were on their bikes. “Thanks for looking out for her, Maestro,” Savage said.
Maestro didn’t answer, and Seychelle didn’t look at him. Maybe Maestro really thought getting rid of her was the best thing for Savage after all. Was it? She had never considered that. All along, she thought she was good for him. What if she wasn’t? What if his club knew better than she did? Better than Savage?
Ordinarily, Savage would have read her silence and immediately asked her what was wrong, but he didn’t. He simply walked her to the Harley, handed her the helmet and waited almost impatiently for her to put it on. He seemed upset.
“Honey.” She needed to clear the air between them.
“Not here, Seychelle. We can’t get separated. We can talk at the campground.” His gaze avoided hers.
“More club business?”
“If you want to put it like that.” He slid onto the bike with his casual grace, and the Harley roared to life.
Seychelle took a deep breath, got on behind him, wrapped her arms around him and pressed close, closing her eyes against the burn of tears. Why did it feel as if every time they made any progress, the world found ways to tear them apart?
Seychelle had to be somewhat intimidated by the number of clubs represented, so many bikers together, a sea of them. Just the sheer volume of laughter and conversation as they made their way through the campgrounds. Music blared, the parties already starting. They parked their Harleys in long rows in the area they’d claimed and then, as was their usual routine, took a walk around to orient themselves so they would know which clubs were camping where. Torpedo Ink members had learned from the time they were young to keep maps in their heads. Even in crowds or in the dark, they didn’t get lost.
Savage knew he’d been too abrupt with Seychelle at the gas station when she’d asked him about his conversation with Czar. She hadn’t even asked him. Just as if everything was okay. He should have taken the time to reassure her, but he was so angry with Czar insisting she had to be on the run when there was unspecified danger to all of them. Czar wasn’t willing to risk Blythe, but he sure as hell was willing to risk Seychelle.
Seychelle stayed one step behind him, moving in unison with him, staying in the center of their club members, but that was only because they surrounded her. Not because she wanted to be there. She held herself away from them. Savage was tuned to her, and she was very stiff, avoiding looking at any of them.
Her fingers tightened in his belt loop. “You do realize that the only women from Torpedo Ink here are Scarlet, Lissa, Lana, Alena and me.”