Savage Road (Torpedo Ink 7) - Page 177

He took a deep breath and reached for Seychelle’s hand as he stood up. “It’s beautiful,” he managed, looking around at all the eager faces.

Inez and Doris nodded. “You’re an honorary member, Savage, of the Red Hat Society. Both chapters, Sea Haven and Caspar. We thought it was going to be too small, but it looks perfect on your bike, doesn’t it?” Doris said, pride in her voice.

Mama Anat nodded as did all the other women. Savage found the anger that anyone had dared to touch his bike fading. He looked at the hat again. The brothers had welded it in the least conspicuous place possible. Maybe he could live with it just for a little while to make the ladies happy. They were beaming. Glowing. Bog. He’d never seen them all so happy. He transferred his arm to circle around Seychelle’s shoulders.

“Never thought I’d wear a hat covered in gems on my bike.”

At least his brothers hadn’t welded it onto the top of the skull. They had to have thought of it and laughed their damned heads off. He sent Mechanic and Transporter a look over his shoulder. He wanted them to worry about a visit from him in the middle of the night. Both their smirks faded, and they looked a little uncomfortable. There was no use giving Ice that look. All he would do was laugh. It wasn’t like he was expendable, and he knew it. He had Soleil.

“Don’t know what to say, this is pretty huge. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.” He tightened his hold on Seychelle, unexpectedly feeling a lump in his throat.

It wasn’t really about that silly red hat, it was the intent behind it. These women had taken him in just the way he was. All of them. They’d just accepted him. Not just for Seychelle. For himself. He had no idea why. He was rough and, for the most part, stayed out of sight if he could help it, but they didn’t seem to mind his foul mouth or his coarse ways.

The ladies beamed even brighter.

“Shall we go inside and eat that delicious-looking cake Alena made?” Rebecca asked. “We wanted to have the party at her restaurant, but you would have known something was up immediately.”

“After cake and ice cream, we can take your bike home for you,” Mechanic offered.

Savage lifted an eyebrow. “I’m fairly certain you have the ability, Mechanic,” he said. “But whether or not you can be trusted is another story altogether. I think I’ll swap trucks with you and drive her home myself.”

Mechanic turned away, but not before Savage caught his grin. He wasn’t nearly as sorry as he should have been. It was a sacrilege to touch a man’s bike. Let him worry about Savage showing up in the middle of the night. That was always a possibility. He flicked a glance at Transporter as he moved past him into the clubhouse, letting him know he held him just as accountable.

That little red hat just might grow on him. If it didn’t, he’d leave it for a couple of days and then take it off his bike and keep it where the ladies could see it at the cottage. He’d just have to find the perfect spot for it.

“You’re amazing,” Seychelle whispered. “You made them very happy. Thank you for being so gracious about the hat. It couldn’t have been easy.”

He thought about letting that go, but it wasn’t right. “Maybe not at first. Never wanted anyone touching my bike. Never had anything that belonged to me until I got the bike. And that bike is part of me. It represents so many things to me. No one ever lays a hand on it, other than Mechanic or Transporter, and that’s because they’re turning it into a rocket.”

“I hardly think you need to make it faster, honey.” Seychelle cuddled into him as they made their way around the room, greeting each of the women.

One by one they hugged him, pressing kisses onto his cheek. He never thought that would happen either. He kept his hand on Seychelle, not allowing her to abandon him. He wasn’t altogether certain he would be able to handle all the attention. Around them, his brothers and Alena and Lana grinned like idiots. Seychelle was his anchor, allowing him to be gracious when he was on unfamiliar ground.

“The point,” he whispered, in between the hugs, “is that maybe I don’t mind quite as much as I thought I did. I’m thinking about it.”

The door opened, and Jackson Deveau sauntered in, carrying several brightly wrapped packages. His gaze swept the room, missing nothing, settling for a moment on Savage, a hint of satisfaction showing just for a moment. He wasn’t in uniform, but there was no doubt he was armed.

Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance
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