“My talent isn’t the same as yours, Seychelle, although I can use my voice to persuade others, and I can hear thoughts, which can drive me insane. I touch you, wrap my hand around your wrist where I can feel your pulse. When you lie, I can send impulses to your heart that impact your brain in very painful ways.”
“I see.”
Seychelle’s palm slid down Savage’s arm to find his hand. She curled her fingers in his. She moved her body under his shoulder, unconsciously seeking protection. He could feel the slight tremors, although he wasn’t certain if she was aware of them.
“How would you know if I was lying?”
“In this case, I’m looking for details, not lies. I would ask a few questions about what your impressions of this woman were when you were talking with the two Diamondbacks.”
“Let’s just do it, then,” Seychelle said. She looked up at Savage. “I just want this night to be over.”
He hesitated. He just wanted to be alone with her, to work everything out with her. He wanted to know they were back in sync. He brought her knuckles to his lips. “You absolutely certain you want to do this, baby?”
“I don’t want anything to happen to Czar. Blythe and those children don’t need the trauma. Quite frankly, neither do any of you.” She turned her head back to face Absinthe. “Let’s do this. I hope you get something.”
In the end, Absinthe didn’t get anything Seychelle hadn’t already told them. He confirmed there was danger to Czar. It was immediate, the threat was hostile and the woman had focused her anger and need for revenge on Czar. She wasn’t connecting Czar to the Demons or the Diamondbacks in terms of the two clubs getting their wives back through Torpedo Ink. One of the Demons told her that Czar introduced them to the Diamondbacks, and she connected the dots over time when she learned he was Russian. But how?
“You’re going to have to speak with each member, Seychelle,” Czar said. “I’m sorry. I know you’re tired.”
She nodded and sank down onto the top of the picnic table, avoiding Savage’s outstretched hand. He didn’t like that. She’d been relying on him; now she was avoiding him. That pit of anger was coming close to overflowing.
“You may as well start with me.” He stood in front of her.
She shook her head. “I’d rather not at all if I can help it, but if I have to, I’ll check you last, Savage.” She refused to look into his eyes.
“Babe. Anything you find with me and that club came before you.”
“It will still hurt. Talking about it, knowing about it and even thinking about it isn’t the same thing as sharing it, Savage,” she replied very quietly, but firmly. “I’ll check you last so I can get this done.”
Great. She would not only see what a first-class bastard he was, she might see other things he definitely didn’t want her seeing—like him taking a human being apart. He hoped she was only going to see whatever went on in that club, nothing more, because that would be bad enough.
One by one, the members of Torpedo Ink came up and had a brief conversation with Seychelle. Czar sat on the other side of the picnic table, watching the proceedings. Savage sat on the table but apart from Seychelle. Absinthe sat on the very edge, just in case she needed him. It was clear using her psychic energy to entice a hidden memory out was tiring her out. Twice she suddenly stopped and frowned once at Storm and flat-out told him not to drink so much, that it was affecting his liver.
The moment she said anything, Savage interrupted. “Seychelle, did he have interaction with the Russian woman?”
She blinked several times to bring him into focus. Steele moved between her and Storm. Master stepped up as well.
Savage caught her shoulder in a tight hold, his fingers digging deep. “Is Storm clear?”
“Yes, but his liver …”
“You’re not taking on his liver. We’ll make sure he stops drinking so much, but Steele can work with him, not you,” Savage said decisively.
Since Master was right there, Seychelle checked him next. He definitely had interacted with the woman but had turned her away when she sidled up to him, wanting him to take her into one of the private rooms. Seychelle kept him talking, trying to get to his memories of the woman, what she looked like, her age. She had managed to blur them, just as she had with Tony and Leonardo. She sent him to Absinthe.
Destroyer was the second club member she frowned over. Her hand went to her throat. She cleared it twice and then coughed.
“Seychelle.” Savage was off the picnic table to stand between her and Destroyer. “Look at me. Only me. Stop what you’re doing right now.”