“Thanks for this, Seychelle,” Tony said. “I’m sorry to put you on the spot like this.”
“I completely understand. It’s a little scary to think Brandon—or someone else, for that matter—may have managed to plant a suggestion in you and your brother.” She smiled at Leonardo. It was clear, to her, they were Eden’s sons, not Shark and Lion from the Diamondbacks. She didn’t see them any other way.
“I’m getting you a chair, Seychelle,” Savage declared. “Don’t start anything without me.” He stalked away, indicating to Mechanic and Keys that they needed camp chairs as he approached the others. “Your men are talking with her now,” he assured Plank. “Once they determine if she can help you, they’ll ask her to come meet your old lady.” He didn’t look at the woman. He caught up the four chairs Mechanic handed him, along with a bottle of water for Seychelle, and hurried back to her.
He could hear her soft laughter. That was like his woman. She managed to put everyone at ease when she wanted to. Even Leonardo was giving her a faint, rusty smile. Once they were seated, she had Tony start talking to her. She asked him questions about his mother, about his childhood and home.
Leonardo became impatient and snarled at her. Savage nearly exploded out of his chair, but Seychelle held up her hand imperiously. “Leonardo, if you want help, you have to let me work. That means staying quiet while I work on your brother. You’re next. A suggestion was definitely planted, but it wasn’t by Brandon. Had it been by him, I could have gotten to it much faster.” She sounded sweet, but there was a firmness to her voice. She didn’t look at him, her focus remaining on Tony.
Savage was shocked. Someone other than Brandon had planted the suggestion in Tony? What the hell? That wasn’t possible. How widespread was this conspiracy? He kept his gaze fixed on Seychelle’s face. She frowned in concentration. He could see the exact moment when she cast her golden net as Tony was talking. She was very precise, focusing not on what he said but on the actual notes in his voice. When Savage looked closely, Tony’s notes were maroon and gray, but the one single note she swept into her net and circled with her golden ones was a very, very faint pinkish purple.
A look of triumph slid across her face and then was gone instantly, and she was concentrating again. Leonardo seemed to realize she was onto something. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching her closely. Within a matter of minutes, Seychelle frowned again, then she began to hum a few notes, shook her head, changed the notes and then nodded.
“Tony, do you remember when I told you about leaving numbers for me by your mother’s phone? Did you?”
“Yes. In the kitchen. I listed my brothers and me and put our cell numbers beside our names and then pinned that memo to the corkboard she has up.”
Savage watched as the golden loop slowly pulled those pinkish-purple notes away from the maroon and gray ones. She kept them safely in the net until they slowly faded away. Her eyes met Tony’s, and she smiled.
“I believe you are just you again. Let me see to your brother, and I’ll tell you what I found.”
Instead of looking at Leonardo, she turned her gaze fully on Savage as she accepted the bottle of water. He could see she was extremely disturbed by something. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to tell Tony and his brother. She was waiting to tell her man. Savage found satisfaction in that. He reached for her hand.
“Do you need a break?”
She shook her head. “Let’s just do this. I’m getting tired, and I want to go to bed. Once they leave, I can do that.”
She began again, getting Leonardo to talk about his mother. That seemed a safe enough subject. She avoided the club he was in and his stint in the SEALs. She watched him closely as he spoke. His tone was lower than his brother’s. She focused on his notes, careful to catch his exact rhythm until she was certain she had a direct connection and followed that faint pinkish purple back to the source, just as she’d done with Tony.
Savage couldn’t help but admire her, watching that curious little frown, the determination. Worry flitted across her face, and once, her lashes lifted, and she looked across the dark grass toward the picnic table where Czar sat with Plank and the others. That made Savage uneasy. She cast her golden net and drew the pinkish-purple notes away from Leonardo.
He sighed with relief. “I feel much lighter. You’re the real thing. Thanks, Seychelle. You can’t say one word of this to anyone.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re Eden’s sons. That makes you practically family. It wasn’t Brandon. It was a woman. The same woman. You met her at a club you both frequent in San Francisco. She’s of Russian descent. Really pretty. Between twenty-five and twenty-eight. Her accent is nearly perfect American. She has dark hair and eyes. You weren’t together when you met her. Leonardo, you met her first. The suggestion in you has been there longer.”