Seychelle helped him, but her movements were jerky. More automatic than as if she knew what she was doing. “This can’t be glued back together. It has to be in a million pieces, Savage. Some of them are so small I can’t even tell which rose they went to.”
“Just keep picking up the pieces, baby,” he said gently.
“They could have taken every single thing in this house and I wouldn’t have cared if they just left me this.” She pushed her hands through her hair. “I should have taken it over to your house. I almost did. It has better security. Why was I so resistant? I just should have moved all the way in.”
“This is our house, Seychelle,” he corrected. “We have both houses. This isn’t either of our faults. Who knew a crazy person would do this? Do you have a small handheld vacuum?”
“In the garage, hanging up. If they didn’t smash that too.”
“Go get it for me,” Savage said. He took out his phone and texted Casimir as he watched Seychelle pick her way carefully back through the mess toward the front door.
Casimir was married to Lissa, who was a famous glassblower. He had no idea if she could do anything at all with what was left of the glass that had the ashes of Seychelle’s parents embedded in it, but he couldn’t think of any other solution. He took several pictures of the shattered glass and sent them to Casimir’s phone to show Lissa.
While he waited for Casimir to confer with his wife, he went into the bathroom to see what damage had been done there. Like every other room, this one had been destroyed as well—the mirrors, the toilet, even the bathtub and shower had been cracked.
Savage pulled up the security cameras. At the back door was a clear shot of Shari using a crowbar to pry open the door. She systematically used a sledgehammer and drill to destroy every room. She came as soon as they had left for the run and returned Saturday and Sunday. She was lucky no one had thought to check on Seychelle’s home. He didn’t want Seychelle to see the feed, although he sent copies to the other Torpedo Ink members. He didn’t want her to call the cops either. Torpedo Ink would handle this on their own.
He proceeded to take as many pictures of the kitchen as he could before Seychelle returned with a small vacuum. He cleaned the basket thoroughly, making certain there wasn’t a speck of dirt in it before he used the vacuum to get the last little pieces of glass up from the floor. He put them in with the larger ones in the bag to take to Lissa.
“Did they destroy the garage too?”
“No, it was fine. I don’t think they even went into it. But I looked in the closets and drawers, Savage. All my clothes are cut up. Everything.”
“We can replace clothes, Seychelle,” he said gently and took more pictures of the rooms, showing the state in which Shari had left Seychelle’s home. Finally, when he was certain he had enough photos, he picked up the bag containing the remains of Seychelle’s parents’ ashes and urged her toward the door.
“Come on, angel, let’s go. You don’t need to be here. I’ll get cleaners to come in and take care of this.”
“I should do something, Savage.” She looked up at him again, but she wasn’t really seeing him.
He swept his arm around her and walked her to the truck. “There isn’t anything for you to do, Seychelle. We have what’s most important to you. The boys are here, and they’ll seal everything up tight.”
“I don’t think that’s really necessary. There isn’t much left for anyone to destroy.”
He opened the door to the truck. “Get in, baby. You’re in shock. I think we need some of Hannah’s special tea.”
“I just want to go home and lay down.”
“One stop, then, I promise.” He shut the door and walked around the bed of the truck, where Reaper and Maestro waited.
“Where the fuck is that bitch?” Reaper demanded in a low voice. “You can’t go near her, Savage. I’ll take care of it.”
“This one’s mine,” Maestro declared. “You have Anya to worry about.”
Savage glanced down at his phone. “Code said she checked out of her hotel.”
The sound of motorcycles had them turning their heads. Czar and Keys stopped beside them. Czar raised an eyebrow when he saw Reaper and Maestro huddled next to Savage.
“We do this the way we’ve always done things. It’s a job. We do the job,” Czar said. “Code is already getting us information. No one is going off half-cocked. You understand? We’ll bring this to the table.”
As much as Savage didn’t want him to be, Czar was right. This was a relatively easy job. They couldn’t come at it from an emotional standpoint. This had to be impersonal, like every other job they did. That was what had kept them from ever getting caught. They were meticulous about getting information and carrying out an assignment. They let time go by.