Hiding in Plain Sight (22 page)

What the fuck are you doing?
  I questioned myself on a mental shriek. 
You won't be staying here long enough to make this place a home, much less enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Sitting down on the armrest of one of the couches, I tried to figure out why I'd had no trouble buying into the little dream my heart had begun to spin.  I was doing what I used to do back home, imagining what it would have taken to turn our squalid existence into a welcoming, cozy place to live.  Looking around though, I was a hell of a long way from where I grew up. 

In fact, during my exploration and silly daydreams, I hadn't thought of Louie or Texas or Mama for hours.

Mama!  I was supposed to call her.  I ran to where my new phone was charging on the breakfast bar and saw the little battery icon indicated it was ready to go.  The clock showed it was 4.30pm our time, which Brand said was Mountain Time.  He'd told me Texas, my part of Texas, was either one hour a head or one hour behind us.  I couldn't remember which.  And because I couldn't, I set the timer on the stove for an hour, just to make sure she'd be home from work when I called.

I needed to think, to come up with exactly what I needed to tell my mother and what could and couldn't be said.  She may not have had her high school diploma, but Mama was a lot smarter than she acted.  Make that, how she'd been
forced
to act being with my dad and brothers.  Sitting at the table, I turned my paper over and began a list of the things I wanted to talk with her about.  While gathering my thoughts, my chin sunk in my hand, my elbow braced on the gleaming wood, I doodled, letting my mind roam.  Fearful of giving away too much information, I kept the list short.

When the timer went off announcing an hour had passed, I unplugged my phone and brought it to the table with me.

I admit, I was more than a little nervous.  No, not to talk to my mother.  But to be real with her.  After Daddy had announced that I was going to marry Louie, she and I never spoke about it.  It was almost like if we didn't talk about it, then it wouldn't happen.  But a couple of weeks later, Daddy gleefully told me to pack my bags that Louie's car was on its way.  My last memory was of her face, tears streaming off her chin as she stood in the ramshackle carport, her hands tucked tight around her waist.

"Mama?  It's Reese Ann," I said quietly when I heard her hello.

"Oh, baby girl," she said with a hitch.  "We ain't got long.  Your Daddy just went down the road for another bottle.  Where you at?"

"Up north.  I can't tell you where," I said, watching every word that came out of my mouth.  "Are you okay?"

"As well as can be expected.  How about you?"

"I'm go-good, Mama.  Really good." I couldn't seem to steady my voice.  "I've got news."

"What kind of news?  The kind that says you’re comin' home and doin' what your Daddy wants?  The kind that keeps that old man's men out of the yard and off our property?" Her voice may have been quiet but her tone made it clear she was stressed over this whole situation.

"They came to the house?" I asked, my heart going a million miles an hour. 

"Yes, baby girl, and they've been comin' ever couple of days or so lookin' for you," she said with a nervous cough.  "I told them and told them we ain't heard from you, but I don't reckon they believe me.  Your Daddy don't either."

"Louie's got some men after me," I admitted.  "But they haven't caught me yet."

"I figured as much."  Her sigh, as it came down the phone, was long and deep.  "But you're safe right now, right?"

"Yeah, Mama.  My husband is keeping me safe," I said, forgetting to watch my words and my tone.  A certain note in my voice exposed even more than I was willing to admit when I uttered the word 'husband'.

"Oh, Lord.  Don't tell me you married someone else, Reese Ann.  Please don't tell me you married another man," her voice was trembling now, and I could hear how scared she was.  "He's gonna kill me when he finds out!"

"Who's gonna kill you?  Louie?" I asked frantically.  "Has Louie threatened your life over this, Mama?  Has Daddy?"

There was silence on the line but when I listened, concentrating hard on the background noise, I could hear her muffled sniffles.  I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head to figure out how to get my mother away from all this.

"Okay.  Here's what I need you to do," I began.  And I laid it out for her telling her exactly where to look and what to look for, exactly where to go and how to get there.  I didn't know if it all was going to work out as smoothly as I saw it in my head.  But it was still better than having Mama scared out of her mind.

After disconnecting, I grabbed the piece of paper and my eyes caught on my doodles.

Reese Ann Jovanovic had been written over and over again, sometimes with the 'Mrs.' in front of it, sometimes without.

I balled that paper up and threw it away so fast you'd have thought it had caught on fire or something.

Chapter Twenty One

He stood at the back of the big room designated as the 'saloon' in the large garage on the HMC compound.  He was casually leaning against the long bar, listening to the different items of business as he pretended to sip from his now warm bottle of beer.

He needed to keep his wits about him. 

Yeah, the time he'd spent away had not helped him gain acceptance from the club at all and in any other circumstances, he would be kicking himself for his foolishness.  That is, until the flash of the overhead lights caught on the silver of his wedding ring. 

He knew he was going to have to pay the price for leaving without prior approval to meet with Niko on what was supposed to have been a quick turn-around trip.  But in his mind, the price he'd have to pay for the delay in returning was worth it as long as he was able to go home to Reese, his bride.

He raised the bottle and plugged the opening with his tongue as he pretended to swallow.  He allowed his eyes to roam over the different men scattered throughout the large space, estimating about twenty to thirty members, including officers were present at the required Sunday meeting. Which would be about right with the missing five spread out between Wyoming and Colorado.

As Brand's eyes swept the officer's table, he caught a look from Zip, the club's sergeant at arms and technically his immediate boss.  He felt his stomach clench.  Yeah.  There would be repercussions for not being available, even if they'd had nothing for him to do in that week.  In his role as an enforcer, he and Dare were supposed to be available to the club twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week unless they received prior approval.

He dragged his gaze to Brisk who acted as both the secretary and treasurer for the club and was droning through last month's facts and figures.  Brand couldn't be bothered to listen.  Though he didn't let his mind drift or lose his focus.  He just anxious to get whatever punishment over and done with so he could go home.

When the meeting was officially over and the ceiling hung speakers were blaring a banging beat of Southern Rock, Brand saw Zip summon him over along with Dare.  "Need you two to round up Huff, Mile, So Cal and Patch.  Meet me on the far side of the forecourt."

Brand kept his sigh inside but felt his muscles tense as he nodded and turned to scan the room to locate men in question.  Since each and every one Zip had listed were either the biggest or the meanest of their group, he figured he was in for a beat-down as discipline for acting on his own.  This was not out of the ordinary, although it was a better resolution to a member's flare of independence that could see a brother dead due to a bullet through the brain for crossing too far over the line.

All Brand could hope is that they left enough of him intact to be able to climb on his bike and ride back to the cabin…to his woman.

*.*.*.*.*

I'd puttered around, finally convincing myself that getting the kitchen in order was no crime, even if I would be leaving soon since it was such a disheveled mess to begin with.  Organizing wasn't decorating.  Besides, if I was gonna be doin' the cooking, I didn't want to have to dig for what I needed to use. Discovering the 'free' section of downloadable books, I'd used my e-reader for a while before turning on the huge downstairs TV but keeping the volume low. 

It was well after midnight when I turned off all but the elegant lights over the pool table and made my way upstairs.  I took a solitary shower that somehow seemed lonely in the tiled cavern and only managed to get two of the three showerheads working.  But even with extending my nightly routine, the clock only read one a.m. when I finally turned off the light and laid down in the huge expanse of our bed.

I tossed and I turned, fluffing covers and pillows.  Bunching and stacking them to try and discover just the right configuration which would help me find enough peace to sleep.  But if it was around, I sure couldn't locate it.

"Argh," I cried at one point and stormed my way to one of the front windows, telling myself that the room was too stuffy as I raised the sash to let in the cool night air.  But I knew it was because I was aching to hear the low thrum of the bike, announcing he was home.

It was just after three that I heard it.  A throbbing deep in the still night air coming closer, heralding his arrival.  I ran to the window but couldn't see a headlight yet.  Quickly, I stepped into the bathroom and ran a brush over my hair and applied a thin layer of lip gloss.

Brand was coming.

My feet flew on the stairs, and I dropped to my bottom to sit on the last tread.  I didn't want to seem too eager to see him.  But I was.

The sound of the bike was much, much louder now, and I was shivering like one of those tiny dogs waiting for their owner to open the front door.

But it never did.  I heard the engine cut out just on the other side of the porch and gave him more than a few minutes to make his way inside, but the door never opened.  Curious, I turned on the outside light and peeked through the peephole in the front door, only reachable by standing to the very edge of my tiptoes.  The little spyglass showed me the chrome of the bike and a dark figure straddling it, but the form seemed to be draped over the gas tank.

What the…

I twisted the inside knobs and released all three door locks before poking my head outside.  "Brand?" I called, my voice the only noise in the night.  The figure on the bike stirred but didn't move.

This was not good.

Opening the heavy wooden door fully, I pushed through to the screen clad only in his t-shirt I'd dug out of the bathroom trash in North Platte.  I wrapped my arms around my waist and stepped gently onto the chilly boards of our porch.  "Baby?"

"Gaw en da hawse, Reesh," I heard a thick voice say from the bike.

I stepped lively down the stairs, knowing in my heart of hearts something was wrong.  Terribly, terribly wrong.  The prickles of the gravel stung the soles of my bare feet as I picked my way to where he was parked.

"Bay?" I said coming up next to him and levering a hand on his back, leaning to try and see him.

"Shed gaw en da hawse," I heard him repeat louder this time.

"I'm not gonna do that, baby," I whispered rubbing my hand across the wide expanse of his shoulders.  I felt the stitches of the club name beneath my fingers as I stroked him.  "Talk to me, Brand.  What's wrong?"

A sudden thought occurred to me.  "Are you drunk?"

His head twisted as he tried to find me in the gloom just beyond the edge of the steps and I got an eyeful of his face.

I couldn't help but gasp at what I saw.

He'd been beaten.  Beaten badly.

"Nawt drunk.  Nevah drunk," his broken mouth tried to explain and my eyes kept glancing from it to the one citrine orb visible in the swelling of his face.

"Oh, baby," I blurted without thinking.  "Who did this to you?"

"Desherved.  Pucked ob," he said, though his voice sounded like a moan.  "Hell me enshide?"

I braced my tender feet on the sharp points of the gravel and bent to hold his armpit against my shoulder.  It took a few tries but he was finally able to swing one of his legs over the massive bike and get on his feet, although he swayed something fierce.  The porch assisted us as he used me for a crutch when he pulled himself by the banister even though we had to stop at the top step for him to get his breath back.

It was a snail's pace that we used to get to the screen door and into the house.  I could feel him struggling as we took the four steps in, and he dropped to the closest couch with a loud groan. 

"Shorry," I heard him mumble as I helped him remove that stupid leather vest before moving to his boots and socks. 

"Lay back, Brand," I said into the quiet.

"Cahn't," he groaned and I saw him hug his ribs with one arm.

Shit, shit,
shit
!

"Should we go to the hospital, baby?"

"No!" he shouted and gripped his stomach tightly as his voice filled the room.  He planted his heels and raised his hips.  "Phun."

"Sorry?"

"Gab I phun. Bahk pocked," I heard him murmur through his swollen, achingly mangled mouth.

I searched my mind, trying to make sense of what he was saying.  The gesture of him raising his hips was familiar.  He only lifted like that when he reached for his wallet or his phone.  Phun.  Phone.  I reached behind and slid his cell out of his jeans.

"Caw Ahten," he mumbled.

I had no idea what he was saying.  His voice was so soft, and my heartbeat so loud that I was unsure I was even hearing him speak.  He took the phone in the hand not wrapped around himself and I saw his knuckles were bloody and swollen.  He pressed a couple of buttons, did a thumb scroll before handing me the phone.

"Brandimir!" I heard as I pressed the cell unit to my ear.

"No, Atin.  It's Reese," I said quickly.  "Brand is hurt.  Looks like he's been beaten.  He doesn't want to go to the hospital, and I don't know what to do." I spewed it all out quickly barely taking a breath, hoping and praying my man's brother could help us some way, somehow.

I heard Atin sigh deeply and then he gave me a slew of instructions that had me scurrying from downstairs to up, from cabinet to cabinet and drawer to drawer.

He had me poking and prodding Brand's skin in different places as well as using ice on others.  Finally, his voice wound down as he asked, "How is he doing, our Reese?"

My man was stretched full length on the couch, naked but for the towel I'd draped over his hips, his ribs wrapped in three of the stretchy brown bandages, and his face free of blood splatters.

"Better, I think." My voice gave proof of my exhaustion.  "He's no longer moaning and his legs are still."

"Good," I heard the other man sigh.  "He will feel badly tomorrow but should sleep as much as he is able.  I must warn you, though.  Our Brand is not a good patient."

I couldn't help but smile at the words.  "I can see that.  Thank you, Atin.  I don't know what I would've done without you."

"I am always here for you, the light of my brother's life.  Be well and call us if you need us," Atin called down the line.

"I will," I said, lowering the now hot screen from my ear.  Atin's words echoed inside me. 

The light of my brother's life
.

I went to the counter and grabbed my new phone, adding Atin and Vana's number to my contact list.