“Why is someone trying to kill you, Savage?”
She kept her gaze on the whip marks, not looking over her shoulder to see his face. It wouldn’t tell her anything anyway. His silence was much more telling. That and the way he stepped back when he’d been crowding her before. She’d felt his heat against her back. His breath on her neck. Now there was the cool ocean air … and emptiness in the pit of her stomach.
“Don’t worry about that, Seychelle. No one is going to kill me.”
His voice was matter-of-fact. Dismissive. Definitely a warning to drop the subject. She did turn then and look at him, trying to keep the hurt from her face and voice. What was the use? She knew he was trying, doing the best he knew how. She was as well. It was just that neither knew what they were doing.
“I am worried about it, Savage. If I hadn’t overheard the phone call, you wouldn’t have told me, would you?”
“No.”
His lack of remorse made her feel as if all hope was really gone, but she still tried. She loved Savage with every breath she took, and he was worth fighting for. “We agreed to talk about everything. Communication, you said.”
“Not about club business.”
There it was again. His club. It all came back to his club. No matter how much she tried to be okay with Torpedo Ink, she wasn’t. The idea that he would share what she considered their personal business with the club and not with her was heartbreaking. How were they supposed to build a relationship together? It was impossible. They would have sex and little else.
“What you’re saying is, if someone wants to kill me, I don’t have to tell you.”
Savage sighed. “Don’t be a smart-ass, Seychelle. You tell me. I take care of it.”
She turned and walked back up to the verandah, where her coffee was. She needed coffee. She needed something. She wasn’t going to cry with disappointment when she’d already known Savage would choose his club every time. She had held out hope, certainly over something this big, that he would share with her. The idea that he could act so dismissive was probably the worst of it, as if she were a small child and he needed to be patient with her.
She reached down and picked up the mug of coffee, wrapping her fingers around the ceramic. “Having someone threaten the man who is supposed to be my partner isn’t club business, Savage. It’s my business. Our business.”
They stared at each other for what seemed to Seychelle an eternity. Savage’s expression was closed off to her. Completely. She forced air through her lungs. They were new, she reminded herself. They were finding their way. He’d only had her a few months. He’d been with the others since he’d been a toddler. It was only natural that he turned to them first. It would take time for him to let her in. She had to be patient.
“Babe.”
She waited. That was it. His one-word answer, as if invoking that pet name for her said it all. “Savage, you said you were going to try. How is that trying? I just heard that someone put out a hit on you. I think that’s something any couple would discuss.”
“You think wrong. We’re not discussing it. I told you from the beginning, when it’s club business, you stay out of it, Seychelle.” His voice had turned hard. Implacable.
She took a sip of coffee in order to stay calm. It wouldn’t do any good to get angry or to show him how hurt she was. “Savage, you don’t get to claim club business just because you don’t want to discuss something with me. Someone wanting to murder you is something you share with me, not Czar.”
His eyes went flat and ice-cold, his expression hard and unyielding. “You don’t get to say what’s club business, Seychelle. You know that.”
What was the use? If he couldn’t see that something this important needed to be discussed between the two of them, they weren’t ever going to have anything more than a superficial relationship, and she needed to come to terms with what that would mean for her future with him.
“Fine, Savage. You don’t get to say what relationship business is. We’re just going to have to disagree on this very important subject. That will bring us to a standstill, won’t it?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
She waved her hand at him. “I suggest you call your all-knowing head of the club and ask him, since he seems to know everything.” She really was beginning to dislike the president of his club, even knowing that wasn’t fair to the man. “I’m running late. I’m supposed to meet Doris Fendris and some others she wants to introduce me to at high tea, but why I’m sharing that information with you, I have no idea.”