If he was asking that of her, to choose him over any other life, knowing what she was getting into—and it was only fair to warn her, to show her—then he had to give her something equal in return. Her life would be a sacrifice, most likely a continuous one. So what the hell was he going to give her back that was of equal value?
What did a man so fucked up, a man who actually lived up to his name of Savage, give to a woman whose life he planned to take over completely? Whatever it was, it had to be worth it to her. What would she value? What would make sacrificing her life for his worthwhile? Once she committed to him, there would be no going back. His fucked-up personality, as well as the lifestyle he would teach her, would never allow that. He needed her to want to stay—to choose him in spite of knowing just what she was getting herself into.
Loving someone, caring on any level, made a man—or a woman—vulnerable. Every member of Torpedo Ink knew that, knew what it was like to suffer, to do despicable things in order to save the life of a loved one. Even worse, you could allow yourself to be shaped into a monster in order to save those you loved.
He groaned aloud as he hurtled through the bends in the road, mostly straightening them out. He could outrun almost anything, and he knew every back road there was between Boonville and the coast. All of them did. They left nothing to chance. That was Czar’s training. The president of Torpedo Ink had drilled it into them that every detail counted. From the moment they had arrived and chosen Caspar as their home, they had begun to study every escape route possible. He could outrun the cops, but he couldn’t outrun Seychelle Dubois.
He was so in love with her, he could barely think straight. She had to know that. She had to know that he was giving her all of him. He’d sworn to himself, on the lives of his parents, his sisters, on Reaper’s life, that he would never love another person so deeply that he would do anything to save them, no matter how vile. He did love her that much. More. She’d slipped inside him when he wasn’t looking and was wrapped there so tight, and she had to know. He had to tell her what that meant. It was the only thing he had to offer her—himself.
Seychelle had to know his life. It didn’t matter that no one else would ever have him or see that one tiny place inside him he had tried to hold sacred. She had to know that he took on the pain for his brothers and sisters and couldn’t stop even now, and what that meant for her. For them. What and why he needed her the way he did. Libby Drake was right. He had to risk everything and give Seychelle the absolute truth.
His Harley was fast, but Transporter and Mechanic had worked their magic and it was even more of a road rocket, with a wealth of hidden compartments allowing him to carry the tools he needed when he was sent on a job. He kept the weight light enough to keep the speed he needed if he was forced to outrun an enemy—or the cops. They never engaged with law enforcement. That was part of the code they all abided by. Unless, of course, a particular individual was corrupt. Then all bets were off.
The members of his club were waiting, and they weren’t happy. He was only a few minutes late, but those minutes counted. Those minutes were used to set up their escape routes and lay out their plan of action and the protection of their president. Savage had cut down their available time by being late.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, because he was. Not for the reason that he was late, but because he was Torpedo Ink and his club always came first. He’d screwed up, but this was his screwup, not Seychelle’s. “Had to retrieve Seychelle tonight. She came to the clubhouse and auditioned with the band, then got herself in a little trouble. Drank too much. Preacher and Ink are looking out for her.”
Czar looked him over carefully, as did his birth brother, Reaper. “You got your head in the game tonight? Because I need you here with us. If you’re worried about her, that could be a problem,” Czar said.
“Wouldn’t be here if my head wasn’t straight, Czar,” Savage assured him.
Czar looked him over a second time and then nodded. “Let’s get this done. I have a bad feeling about this meeting. Something’s going down. Alena, you and Lana go in first. Get a feel for what’s going on. Reaper is with me. Savage, you’re our eyes on this one. You’re in the shadows. Remember, if we have to kill one Diamondback, we may as well kill them all. That club will hunt us to the end of our days. They will never forget. Having said that, you can fuck one up royally if you have to. Let’s try to get along, but if we have no choice, take them down hard but keep them alive. If you have to make a kill, that’s a signal to take all of them. No one gets away to warn the others. That gives us time to get out and get our families away.”