Annihilation Road by Christine Feehan Page B

Doris believed in making her visitors feel special.
    “You really don’t have to fix my stairs, Seychelle,” she said as she rocked gently and looked out over her small garden of roses. “You know I just love your company.”
    “I’ve really had fun learning all about it,” Seychelle admitted, pouring genuine enthusiasm into her voice. “I don’t think I’m ever going to be a master carpenter, but I like learning new things. This has been a challenge. I just hope I don’t find dry rot or whatever they call it when I take off the top boards. The man at the mill told me I should have checked.”
    The tea was excellent as usual, a black currant, one Seychelle had never had before and probably wouldn’t have thought of trying. She had learned Doris was very adventurous with her tea choices. When she’d asked her about it, Doris had laughed and said she had few ways left at her age to be adventurous.
    “Well then, dear, I suppose I’ll find my old pair of overalls and help you, although once I get down on my knees, you might need to call the fire department to get me back up again.” Doris burst out laughing.
    Seychelle laughed with her, feeling lighter than she had in a long while. Doris was genuine in her moments of sheer joy. “I don’t think I’ll need help. You can sit in the rocking chair and advise me.”
    “But there might be some cute single firemen,” Doris objected. “I’ll sacrifice the knees to find you a man.”
    As if on cue, Seychelle heard the unmistakable rumble of a Harley as it approached. She took a sip of the black current tea, her pulse kicking into high speed. Immediately, every nerve ending in her body went on alert. Her gaze jumped to the street. He was there on the bike, looking every inch the dangerous biker. He didn’t so much as glance up to check if she was on the porch; he just drove right up as if he owned the place and was there every day, parked his Harley behind her Mini Cooper and got off with that hot fluid grace that took her breath every time.
    “Oh my,” Doris said, fanning herself. “It looks like we have company. I wore my watch with the heart monitor, and it’s a good thing. That man would give any woman a heart attack.”
    “I agree one hundred percent, but let’s not tell him. He’s already arrogant enough,” Seychelle whispered, taking a bite out of an oatmeal cookie and trying not to wish it was Savage.
    She watched him stalk up the walkway like some jungle cat, setting her heart pounding. Muscles rippled visibly beneath the tight black tee he wore under his open vest with his Torpedo Ink colors. He didn’t stop coming, taking the steps, his weight making them sag and creak, blocking out the view until he was the only thing she saw. His large frame. That broad chest. The intimidating muscles that went on forever. Eyes so blue they could be a glacier but burning so intense they were like a flame moving over her. Lines carved deep in his face. Strong jaw.
    “Scared the crap out of me, woman. Don’t fuckin’ disappear on me like that again. Next time, I’ll have the cops lookin’ for you, and you know how I feel about them.”
    He bent and brushed a kiss on top of her head. Just that gesture, coupled with the intensity in his blue eyes, set her heart pounding.
    “Would you care to introduce me to your friend, Seychelle?” Doris said, her voice a little faint. She fanned herself with her hand. “I can get a chair from the kitchen so he can join us.”
    “I’m Savage, ma’am.”
    He introduced himself because Seychelle couldn’t find her voice. She pressed her fingers to her lips and stared at him, shocked that he could do that to her, just short-circuit her brain with that look on his face.
    “Doris Fendris.”
    Savage threaded his fingers through Seychelle’s left hand. “I’m her fiancé.” There was a trace of amusement in his voice, although his expression didn’t change. He looked as scary as ever. “Been missing her, and she forgot