Hiding in Plain Sight (29 page)

"Turn, my beauty," he breathed, his hands already gripping my hips to move me so my belly and breasts remained under the waterline.  "Rest your hands here," he murmured against my ear as he showed me the position he wanted me in, behind me.  He spread my knees as far as they could go in the width of the tub and moved between them.  His hands were hot on the back of my thighs as he shifted behind me, and I felt his helmet graze my sensitive slit as he spread me open.  One finger slid through my wetness that had nothing to do with our bath.

"You are always soaking wet for me," I heard him murmur before the finger circled and dipped into my passage.  "And, so fucking tight."  He pulled out only to slide it upward to tease my clit.  I had to bite my lips to keep my cries to simple whimpers at what his finger, that one damn digit, was making me feel.  My hips had a life of their own as I rode it, needing more pressure to bring me to the orgasm that was building.

We were half in, half out the water and the wake of our movements made little waves that teased my nipples, adding another layer of sensation and taking me closer.

"Hold, Reese," he whispered, pressing himself again to my back and stilling his finger before pulling away.  "Don't come yet."

Mewling in protest, I stayed in position, quivering as I waited.  Anticipating.

I glanced over my shoulder and the sight of his chiseled body wetly gleaming in the flickering candles, each and every muscle displayed, clenched as he guided himself towards my channel, scored itself across my heart.

You may never have this beauty again
, my mind yelled, feeling him begin to explore my depths as his eyes met mine.  He inched in, so slow watching me closely.  His thickness seemed to grow even bigger, stretching my core as he entered me completely.

I knew the next song. 

Sweet Child of Mine, Guns and Roses.

"Give yourself to me, my love.  Please," he whispered from over my shoulder, and I found a lump in my throat with tears prickling behind my eyes.  At last, he began to move, pressing and pulling out in shallow slow strokes, only moving more when I rocked myself against him hesitantly.

"Yes, that way.  Love me, my sweet wife," he murmured with light kisses on my back, slewing himself in and out of me, going deeper with each stroke.  That long thickness creating so much pleasure, building it as his hips flexed harder.   He raised up again and held onto my sides, directing my thrusts.  

And I loved him, oh god how I did.  At letting myself acknowledge my feelings, my tears streamed, and my breath hitched.  I accepted every slam of his hips, knowing this might be the last time I'd be able to feel him inside me.  And it built, pressure upon pressure from him and his movements both inside my wet, slick folds and in my heart.

"Harder," I moaned, wanting him to imprint himself within me.  I knew I'd never get it this good again.  God, how I loved him and what we created together.

"Brand!" I cried, much more vocal than I'd ever been before.  "Faster, baby!"

"Yes!" I heard him hiss as he rounded over my back again, his hips beating hard as he pounded me.  His hand slid around to reach for my clit and I had to hold back my sob at the feel of his fingers.  He was gripping one of my shoulders to hold me in place, although there was no need.  I wasn't going anywhere.

You're willing to leave this
?

All the pressure exploded and I dropped my forehead to the tub rim as I spasmed around him, treasuring my own clenches, knowing this was the last of what I might ever have in my life.

He was seconds behind me, bellowing my name and with a lot of words in the old language, which only told me of his delight.

I'll never love anyone more than you, my Brand
.  I bit my lips to keep the sobs within me, but I wanted to throw myself at him and beg him not to let me go.

We stayed glued together for more than a few moments before he pulled out and turned me which gave me enough time to get my feelings under control.

Then, I discovered the best part about tub sex.

No clean up.

That is, unless I considered the pieces of my heart that swirled and twisted down the drain along with the water.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Brand had known something was wrong with Reese as soon as he'd viewed her face when drying her off, but she wouldn't admit to anything and refused to discuss it.  He'd thought their water play would've relaxed them both in light of what may or may not happen in the coming hours.  For him, it had been a wonderful distraction, giving him a chance to reconnect with her in a way he knew they'd both enjoyed.

But she'd been tense and standoffish afterwards.  Even more so when he instructed her to sleep in her t-shirt and panties and to place her jeans, jacket and boots along with her backpack on the couch at the end of their bed.  He wanted her ready to run at a moment's notice, and he could see the prospect of doing so was a problem for her.

But he could only offer her partial comfort, his mind full of the different strategies their enemies might use in the coming hours. He would be foolish to think there would be no retribution extracted for taking Reese from Deschames.  And he knew Laza, one of the more emotional of the Milosevic brothers, would've taken great offense to the fact he'd done it practically under his men's noses.

So the end result of any assault was to see him dead.  Something he was confident would not happen, but an injury was not out of the question.  He could only hope that if he did get hurt, he could still get Reese to safety.

Sitting with his back against the headboard, he glanced down at her, seeing she'd finally found sleep, though her face was still creased into a frown.  He raised his eyes to the clock and found it was after midnight. 

Two weeks. 

He'd only known his love for two short weeks, but it felt much, much longer. 

Would they have felt the same if they had met a different way, if their path of discovering one another had been a smooth one?  Brand wasn't sure even though he'd like to think so.

His phone, set to vibrate, purred on the nightstand next to him.

'Car @ ur gate,'
Brand read.  Trey had obviously sent a couple Hellions to keep an eye on Brand's place.  Something which surprised him in light of how they'd left it when Trey had come by.

Brand slipped off the bed and grabbed his phone, jeans and boots before stepping down the hall to the computer.  Yes, two older stocky men were moving up the driveway.   Two boldly walking in the middle of the graveled road.  The other two, in the black and white of the camera feed were simply moving shadows.

He ran down the hall and got Reese on her feet and dressed.  Carrying her backpack and boots, he shepherded her downstairs, quickly moving to the laundry room.  "Get to the road as quickly as possible.  Trey has men there who will take you back to the clubhouse.  I will meet you there as soon as I am able."

She nodded her eyes wide and uncertain.

"No, Reese.  I need you to repeat it back to me so I know you will do as I ask," Brand commanded, realizing these were almost the exact words he'd used when he'd first instructed her.

"Get to road, ride with Hellions back to the clubhouse.  You'll meet me there."  Her voice was a harsh whisper as he turned the fake spigot to open the secret door.  He saw her eyes move to the opening before they came back to his face.  Grabbing the back of her neck, he planted his lips on hers for a short but firm kiss. 

"Do not delay and do not return until I come for you," he continued before pushing her towards the opening.  As soon as she crawled through, dragging her backpack behind her, he grabbed her arm.  "I love you."

"I love you, Brand."  And her quiet fervent words helped give him the strength to let her leave him in order to get to safety.  He heard soft noises coming from the behind the front door.  Reaching for the fake faucet, he turned it slowly plunging the laundry room into complete darkness.

He pulled the Glock from behind his back and opened the laundry room door as quietly as possible.

It was time to put this shit to rest so he and his bride could start the rest of their lives.

*.*.*.*.*

I stepped down the treads of the spiraled staircase onto the dirt floor of the cave.  It was only a tunnel, nothing fancy and was not as well lit as the stairs.  It snaked and only had LED lights every ten or so feet, with darkness in between each pool of light.  It wasn't long and I found the door to the outside, which was little more than a half door with a spring lock on one of the corners.  It took me more than a couple of yanks to get it open but when I did, I saw it led straight out to a dense crop of shrubbery.  There was a small knob on a corner of the outside of the door which allowed me to pull it closed after flipping off the lights. 

I didn't expect my feelings of separation from Brand, to be felt so acutely or so quickly at just closing that small hidden door.  But no matter how I felt, it was time for me to get back on my plan of getting both my mother and myself away.

After only taking a large flashlight, I tried to get to the road quickly, but it was slow going with all the shrubs and thick greenery on this side of the property.  And, without a well-worn path to follow, I found myself sliding in the layer of leaves, only adding to my delay.

Once on the road, though, I saw Jilly's man, Snake, signal to me.  Four giant steps and I was once again on the back of a bike, riding away in the night.

*.*.*.*.*

If Brand were to guess, he would have to say these men were
not
the same ones they'd encountered on their journey.  The Milosevics would never employ simple thugs.  Their men had deadly skills.

These men, he was sure, didn't.

He'd gone in low, more than aware of every piece of furniture, of every bit of light, even during the full moon and how to hide within the confines of his large space.  He duck walked to take a place behind the pool table after realizing they were fiddling with the three different locks on the front door.

Good luck assholes
, he thought, holding back his chuckle.  They were not coming into the house by front door, he'd made damn sure of that when he'd done the reconstruction on his cabin.  The front door was so reinforced, it would take armor-piercing bullets to breech it.  At the time he'd purchased it, he thought he'd be only be keeping out bikers, not mafia-types from Texas.

A dining room window crashed and from the repeated thudding as the projectile hit the hardwood floor, he was sure the assailants had used a simple heavy rock to crash through it.  Since the windows were seven feet from ground level, he knew they'd struggle to actually climb in, allowing him time to shift positions to the corner where the breakfast bar met the kitchen cabinets. 

From a thud at the French doors to the back, it was good he'd moved.  He knew even though the portal was made of glass, they were thick double panes.  Something he'd hoped to have completed for the rest of the bottom floor windows before winter.

His head whipped back as he heard voices through the broken window.

"Gimme a boost," came the rough voice.

"You're too fat, Wilbur.  I'd break my fuckin' back," the reply shot back.  "You boost me."

"But you cain't shoot fer shit, stupid," Wilbur drawled.

I wonder if they could get their own reality TV show
? Brand thought with a smile.  'How Not to Be a Hit Man' or something.  'How Not to Fuck Up Before You Fuck Them Up?'  No.  Too wordy.  Brand heard the thumps of their shoes against the logs as someone helped someone else try to get through the window. 

Now was not the time to lose his focus.

He rose from his crouch and saw a pair of gloved hands gripping the bottom of the window.  It was an easy shot, but he wanted proof of the break-in especially if he was going to go after Deschames directly, which he was leaning towards doing.

Glancing at the back door, he continued to hear the thuds and clicks and could almost make out another two shadowy figures in the moonlight through the glass.

What a cluster fuck.

Brand pulled out his phone and sent a text to Trey. 
'4 fux 2 dumb 2 no what theyre doin.  1 man 2 back needed ASAP. Need 2 shut shit down.
'

'Roger that'
, came the immediate reply. 
'Man on way.  Take down or blazin?'

'Take down 4 msg to Texas'
, Brand sent.  None of the men had made it into the house and Brand was still shaking with adrenaline in spite of basically having nothing to do.

He went to the window, fully upright and stood to one side, able to see the men clearly as they tried to figure a way to enter his home.  He flipped the safety off and aimed before asking, "can I help you?"

Both men froze and dragged their eyes up even though he knew they were unable to see him in the shadows of the house.  Both brought their hands up in a surrendering position next to their ears.

"I will ask again.  Can I help you?"  Brand made sure his voice was louder and deeper this time.

The men looked at each other before looking back into the broken window of the house.

"We…uhm…we," the shorter, fatter man was trying to talk as he hitched his pants up, one hand at a time, but stopped as soon as his buddy took off running around the side of the house.  Brand watched as the man shot his eyes from his now leaving partner back to the window and stilled his hands next to his ears.

"If you wanted in, Wilbur, why did you not ring the doorbell?" Brand asked, his voice calm and steady.

"Do I know you?"  The other man stuttered, his eyes huge.  "You gonna shoot me?" 

"I have not yet decided.  I want you to go to the back of the house.  I will meet you there and we can…work this out," Brand replied slowly.  "Please remember mine are not the only eyes, or gun, on you."

By the time Brand walked to the French doors, Dare already had two on the ground trussed up with duct tape.  Wilbur was down and getting his own restraints done by the time he turned on the outside lights, showing Brand the full scene.

"Shit, where are you dim-witted fucks from, anyway?" Dare asked casually, using his teeth on the tape before ripping it.

"Texas," Wilbur replied.

The other two men, younger and in much better shape, both shook their heads at their co-hort's instant reply. 

Brand stood over the other two, gun pointed.  "Wilbur introduced himself before his friend ran off.  Who are you two?"

The men kept their silence before Wilbur offered it up. "The redhead is Stan and the other one is No Way."

Dare, after getting Wilbur situated with the tape on both his wrists and ankles, straightened.  "No Way?" he asked on a choked laugh.  "Is that the name you gave yourself, asshat?  Or is it what the bitches say when you ask to fuck them?"

Brand joined in when Wilbur and Stan laughed along with Dare.

"Shut the fuck up, man," No Way ground out, his face twisted to Stan.

"I heard Stan call him Melvin once," Wilbur offered when the laughter had died down.  Causing everyone but the man in question to laugh again.

"Hold, motherfuckers," came a voice from the dark and everything on the small patio stilled.  "Undo my men."

Dare and Brand shared a glance before allowing their eyes to roam the edges of the small space to determine which direction the voice came from.

"Fuck!  Al, don't be stupid, man," Wilbur bawled out, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I have a gun and I'll use it if I have to," came the reply.  Brand zeroed in and knew the man was in the northwest corner, just out of the range of the lights.  He had the direction but not a specific location.  From Dare's eye catch, Brand knew the other man had it as well.