Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Savage smiled at her. “Thank you, baby, but I still need the pack. Give it to me.”
She watched him crush the cigarette and put it in the trash can. He tossed the pack after it and then he walked her to her car. “It’s good you didn’t litter,” she said solemnly, because really, littering was so wrong. “And I’ve been contemplating the corpse thing. That’s just really eeww. I might have nightmares.” She waved at Bill.
Savage shook his head as he opened the passenger-side door and snapped her seat belt in place. “You’re going to be all right. I’ll take care of you.”
“You’re kind of dreamy, Savage. Like dreamy gorgeous.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear, a faint smile on his face. “Glad you think so, baby.” He closed the door and rounded the hood. She watched him every step of the way as he got behind the wheel. He really was beautiful. As he drove the car from the parking lot, he signaled to someone behind them. She heard the familiar and now comforting roar of Harley pipes, and then they were on the highway, heading back to Sea Haven.
Savage knew he wasn’t getting drunk sex, as intriguing as his body thought it was. His woman was a very sick drunk. She wasn’t sloppy. Or clingy. Or even weepy. She was just plain sick. Savage had no idea why he found that so fuckin’ amusing, but he did. She couldn’t drink worth shit and he was going to put his foot down when it came to her drinking alone, without his club—or him—protecting her.
He spent some time with her in the bathroom, although she protested, embarrassed, not wanting him to see her like that. He had news for her: he was the kind of man to want to see his woman in every type of circumstance. He didn’t leave her alone when she needed him. And she needed him. He’d never seen anyone so sick. He had the feeling it was less about how much she’d drunk and more about her being allergic.
“Do you think it’s her first time drinking?” Ink asked, concerned. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital. She could have alcohol poisoning.”
“I think she’s allergic,” Savage said. He glanced at his watch. He had club business tonight, but he couldn’t leave her, not when she was so sick. There was nothing left for her to throw up, but she still hugged the toilet bowl, miserable and retching. He had gathered her hair, bunched it in his hand and held it out of the way. Finally, he loosely braided it to keep it away from her face. The moment she stopped vomiting, he was putting her in the shower, and then hoping she’d go to sleep.
Ink sat in an armchair. Preacher perched on the end of the bed. His two fellow Torpedo Ink brothers regarded him solemnly.
“You have to get out of here soon,” Preacher reminded him. “Transporter said to tell you the same man who’s been coming around the place, just walking by, did again tonight. This time he had a girl with him. He walked slow and kept his eyes on the cottage. Had his arm around the girl but not his attention on the girl.”
Savage wrapped his arm around Seychelle’s waist and lifted her off the floor. She groaned and turned her face away from him, or tried to. He had her braid bunched in his fist, and he didn’t let up on her scalp, forcing her head toward the sink so he could rinse out her mouth and brush her teeth before taking her ass into the shower.
“What kind of shape was the girl in that he was with? Did Transporter say? I need to get Seychelle into the shower. In the top drawer she has some tanks. Can you get one out for me?”
“Savage?” Seychelle looked up at him, misery on her face. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay. I think I’m done throwing up.”
“Just brush your teeth, baby. I’m getting you cleaned up and then into bed. We’ll talk about this later. When I’m not so pissed and you’re not so screwed up.”
“Guy with the chick wasn’t the only one, Savage. Transporter said Seychelle went into town to help some older couple, and that wormy asshole Arnold was creeping around her house. He tried her doors, both front and back and even the garage. He even tried the windows. At one point he picked up a rock like he might throw it through a window, but Transporter started walking toward the cottage and the asshole jumped in his car and took off,” Preacher said.
“Why the hell wasn’t I told immediately?” Savage demanded.
Ink shrugged. “I went to the hotel. He’d already checked out and left for the Bay Area. Figured there was no real hurry and it could wait until this evening.”