Hiding in Plain Sight (21 page)

I felt him rise and take me in his arms, pressing his mouth to my neck, my chin, my jaw.  Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him, stroking his back and shoulders.

"Did you enjoy that, my bride?" His voice was rough as his lips found the sensitive skin underneath my ear.

"Oh, yeah…" There was no denying that I enjoyed the hell out of what he'd done.  "But Bay, you didn't get yours."

"I will.  Let us dry off and go to the bed," he suggested, reaching quickly for the knobs as if to shut off the water.

"Uh, Brand?  Hold up," I instructed, pulling him back to me.  "Can I try?"

"Try?" His eyebrows were furled together over his glowing eyes framed by the wet spikes of his eyelashes.

I stood on tiptoe and tried to put my mouth close to his ear as I reached between us to palm his hard-on.  "Can I put my mouth on you to make you feel that good?"

*.*.*.*.*

Brand didn't think his cock could get any harder but at Reese's whisper, he felt himself stiffen and throb even more.  He pulled back and searched her eyes to check if she was being truthful about wanting to put her full lips on his aching shaft.

At the sincerity he saw there, he felt his balls pull tightly up against his body.  The soft, hesitant movement of her hands on his turgid length and the honest yearning he saw in her face, shredded his control.

"I've never done this before, so you'll have to teach me how," she whispered as she bent her knees, her eyes glued to his.  He leaned his back on the glass bricks and lifted a hand to snag one of the towels he'd draped over the top earlier.  She looked at him quizzically when he handed it to her.

"For your knees," he tried to explain, although he wasn't even sure if he was speaking English since his mind was short-circuited by her evident eagerness to provide him pleasure. 

As she folded and got the towel in place, he couldn't help stroking himself as his gaze roamed over her wet skin.  His eyes followed the rivulets of water that cascaded down her shoulders and dripped off her hard nipples, making her skin glimmer in the low lights of the bathroom.

Her hands covered his with a soft, "here, let me."  Using both hands, she copied what he'd been doing, sliding from root to tip.  He watched as she adjusted her stance on her knees and brought her mouth to hover just over his glans.  Her eyes moved back up to his face.

"Tell me how, baby." He heard her words but couldn't speak at the feel of the innocent, tentative swipe of her tongue over his crown. 

Dropping his head back, Brand heard himself drawl a long slow, "Fuck."

She may not have done it before, but everything she did was sheer perfection as she followed his groaned instructions.  Her hands gripped and massaged his prick at the just the right speed, with the exact amount of pressure.  The hot wetness of her mouth encased him with just the correct amount of heat and the swirling of her tongue unerringly found his cock's most sensitive areas, returning to them again and again. 

His body seemed to have a mind of its own, and he felt his knees bend as his hips churned.  His fingers buried themselves in her hair.

"So good," he heard himself grunt and chanced a glance down.  The view of her sweet mouth and what she was doing, completely unraveled the carefully crafted hold he had on his orgasm.  And he managed to shout a warning before he felt the piercing pleasure of his jets begin. 

"Reese!"  He couldn't prevent his roar in the delicious agony of his release. 

As soon as he had control, he pulled her up to press against his still shuddering body.  He needed to hold her against his pounding heart and would've pulled her completely inside himself if he'd been able. The sex they'd shared hit him at a deep, deep level, and he didn't have the words to tell her how much she was beginning to mean to him.

"Did I do it right?" she whispered and he felt her breath against his chest as she spoke.

"More than right, my beauty," he murmured back before reaching to turn off the water.  He wrapped her in a towel before continuing.  "You were…exquisite."

The beaming smile she shot him over her shoulder as she stepped away almost filled his heart to overflowing.

Temporary, my ass
, Brand thought as he fought to contain the satiated smile which crept over his face.

Chapter Twenty

"After this," Brand began, shoving back his plate and wiping his hands on his napkin.  "We will go shopping for food and more clothes for you."

"More?" I mumbled, nibbling on my last piece of bacon.

We were having breakfast at a tiny bustling café a few miles up from the cabin but still on the outskirts of the big city of Missoula.  From the way the waitresses greeted him, my new husband must have been a regular customer.  A welcomed customer if their sultry smiles were any indication.

"You have what?  A couple of pairs of jeans and a few tops?" he asked, reaching for the bill with one hand and his wallet with the other.

"Yeah.  So?"

"You need more," he replied but I could tell he considered the conversation over.  I'd only known him a week, and we'd been together for the whole of it.  But I was still discovering new things about him.

Things like he didn't just have a motorcycle, but a Toyota Tundra and some kind of four wheeled, all-terrain vehicle that were kept in the large garage tucked behind the house that I still had trouble thinking of as simply a 'cabin'. 

Or that he liked things clean and tidy as evidenced by the way he made sure the towels were picked up off the bathroom floor and the saddlebags emptied before we actually went to sleep.  None of which I minded in the least, but it was still fresh information on my new husband.

And he left big tips, which gained him another sultry smile from the bosomy server.  A smile which faded when she got caught the circle of silver on my left hand, which just happen to flash in front of her face as I pulled myself out of the booth.  "He's taken, honey," I advised as I stepped past her.

As he escorted me out of the café and helped me into the truck, I couldn't contain my curiosity.  "Then what?"

"I have things to do this afternoon," he mumbled after settling himself and turning the ignition.  He didn't explain and the tone in his voice didn't invite further questions.

"Is there anything you want me to do while you are gone?" I couldn't see myself just sitting around while he was off gallivanting.  I got a quick glance with a dimpled smile.

"Explore your new house," he said simply and my heart did a double thump at not only his words but the look he'd given me.  

*.*.*.*.*

I was still putting away the groceries when Brand came downstairs holding what looked like a leather vest with patches on it.  He threw it over one of the dining room chairs before coming to press up against my back.

"I want you, my little wife, to do whatever it takes for you to feel at home here."  He was doing that thing where he was starting our conversation in the middle of whatever he had going on in his head.

"Okay," I drawled and twisted to look up at him.

"Your new cellphone should be done charging in another couple of hours.  When it is done, I want you to call your mother and tell her you are safe," he continued.  "I also want you to tell her of our marriage."

"What?  Why?"  I didn't want Mama to know I'd married Brand since we weren't planning on staying married.  Especially since I was convinced that Louie was gonna be asking for his money back; the money he'd paid my family in order to have me.  And I didn't want Louie to know anything about me and my temporary new life, which was bound to be relayed to him if any of my brothers or my dad found out.

"Jovanovics do not live in fear, Reese," Brand said solemnly. 

Yeah, well.  This short-term Jovanovic does
, I thought worriedly. "Do you know when you will be home?"

"It might be late.  Do not wait to have dinner with me," he said after a quick glance at the clock on the microwave.  "You have your new e-reader and the TV if you get bored.  The code for the security system is 871009 in case you want to explore the property but do not cross the road or go outside the fences."

"Hold on, let me write that down," I said, pushing away from his body, but his arms pulled me back and turned me so I was facing him.

"No, you do not write down special codes," he instructed but the softness of his face took the sting out of his abrupt words.  "It is my birth date backwards.  I was born September tenth in 1987.  So what is the code?"

"871009," I replied without having to think about it.  All it took to remember was him admitting it was his birthday, something I hadn't known, and it stuck in my head.

"Good," he replied before ducking his head for a kiss.  "I want you to keep the system engaged at all times.  Whether you are inside or out, yes?"

I nodded and he stepped to the table and put the vest on with his back to me.  Across the back and in gold and white lettering I read 'Hellions Motorcycle Club'.  There was a picture of a white skull surrounded by red and gold flames stitched into the leather just underneath the lettering.

"You're a biker?" The question just slipped out without me thinking about it.  I heard him sigh before he turned around to face me.

"Yes," he said finally.

"A badass biker or a recreational biker?" I asked, my heart starting to speed up.

He blinked a couple of times before he lifted an eyebrow and dropped his chin.  Aw, shit.  I was married to a badass biker.  Who was in a motorcycle club.

"I guess I really am a biker's old lady, huh?" I mumbled before turning back to the groceries, but my heart sank to my knees.  He was back over my shoulder before I'd even realized he'd moved.

"Is this a problem, my Reese?" he asked, shifting my hair over my shoulder and pressing his lips to my neck.

I shook my head to signal 'no', but I was lying. 

"We will discuss it later but for now, I need to leave."  Although he announced his intention, he made no move to step away.  "Will you kiss me good-bye, little wife?"

Turning within the circle of his arms, I lifted my chin.

It was a good five minutes before the front door actually closed behind him, and I saw him adjusting his jeans as he walked away.

*.*.*.*.*

Brand backed the bike out of the garage gazing at the house before roaring down the driveway.  He could tell she was not happy to know that he was a part of the Hellion's and he probably should have told her before springing it on her like that.  He ached to tell her the truth— that his real job was as a special agent for the ATF, and that he was deeply undercover as a member of HMC.  However, that would place her in even more danger than just having the Milosevics after her for escaping the Texan piss-ant.

He shot a glance at the cellphone in its holder and saw he was still on track for meeting with his ATF contact, Harvey Becker.  Brand had thought he could use Reese's little burner cellphone to provide this week's update but decided a face- to- face meet would be better since the mission was coming into the home stretch.  With the delivery and distribution of the Milosevic guns next Sunday, Brand's part in this operation would officially be over.

And he had every intention of submitting his resignation as soon as the last signature on his report was scribbled.

Just as Harvey had advised, Brand saw the red tin can on a stick 30 feet before the dirt turn off.  Another half mile down the track, he saw Harvey's white compact and the chubby man exiting the car.  Brand gave his report, watching as the older balding man wrote everything in a small notebook.  After closing and stowing the spiral edged pad in his suits inside pocket, Brand told him of Reese.

"And we were married by a judge in Billings yesterday morning," he finished.

Harvey eyed the larger man, squinting up at him.  "Wha'?  You want congratulations or somethin'?"

"Not necessary.  But I did want you to know of the change in circumstances," Brand replied, keeping the exasperation out of his voice.  He neither liked nor disliked the older man but like a lot of shorter males, the other agent's smart-ass attitude got on his nerves.  Neither one of them could help their height or body composition, so why did Harvey always try to provoke Brand with his posturing?

"Wha'evah.  We'll meet here same place, same time next week." Harvey instructed, shoving his rotund shape into the smaller car.  "If anything changes with the plan, call me."

Brand's last contact, Paul Bronson, had been the complete opposite of Harvey.  Asking questions, offering advice and behaving more like a partner than a scribe who simply documented what would eventually be in Brand's emailed reports to the field office.  Paul had been transferred to Oregon and for some reason, Brand had gotten stuck with someone who's last assignment had been behind a desk. Well, no one had come right out and said it, but he was sure Harvey had no experience in the field at all.

Not a good contact to have should things go south on this, Brand's last mission.

*.*.*.*.*

After he left, I spent time exploring the house from top to bottom, opening and rummaging through cabinets and closets, drawers and shelves just to see what was where.  The only room that was locked was one of the upstairs bedrooms, but I was pretty sure it was just his computer room, and I really didn't have any need to explore it. 

But my investigation gave me more clues into Brandimir Jovanovic. 

I learned he liked to buy things in bulk, although I wondered why a bachelor who seemed to eat his meals out, needed a gallon jug of olive oil.  Or an eighteen pack of paper towels.

The walk-in closet, which was the third door of our bedroom, showed that my man liked to wear black.  A lot.  Like, call him Johnny Cash because it was all black apparel which was, of course, hung neatly on the rails of the huge space.  He had four pairs of the exact same boots which had me stumped until I figured he just must like the style or fit or something.

And one of the lowest drawers in one of the nightstands confirmed my new husband liked dirty movies, magazines and weird little silicone devices that I hadn't any idea how he used.  And I wasn't sure that I really wanted to know either.

After my search, I finished the last of the laundry and scrounged up some hangers for my clothes.  I made room in one of the dressers, appropriating a couple of drawers for the small amount of stuff I had.   I placed my toothbrush in the holder next to his and cleaned out one of the bathroom drawers in the vanity after shoving my deodorant and face cream in the medicine chest.

I just left my lotion and spray cologne on the countertop.

Letting my eyes roam around the spaces as I made my way back downstairs, it occurred to me that he had no knick-knacks.  No pictures.  No plants.  Sure he had great furniture that was new and clean, but there wasn't anything personal in the whole of his house.  If I'd just walked in the front door, I couldn't have told you who lived there or what they were like.

At first, I thought it must've been a cultural thing, but then I remembered the warmth of Atin and Vana's house.  The patterned throw pillows and hand-crocheted afghan, the pictures of people in the beautiful frames.  A candle here, a small vase of flowers there that helped define the farmhouse as 'theirs' unlike the stark, though beautiful showplace of Brand's.

I found a pen and some paper to begin making a list.  First, I needed to rearrange the kitchen. The cabinets, except for the ones above the countertops, were packed willy-nilly without rhyme or reason and the pantry needed to be sorted.  Then I needed to do something with the upstairs linen closet, because in order to find a sheet set that matched, you had to dig. 

Then I'd work out how to turn this place into a home.  Maybe a couple of plants for the sideboard and a couple of watercolors in frames for the wall by the front door.  A rocking chair would look good by the fireplace…

I stopped myself cold.