Hiding in Plain Sight (35 page)

"So, this last thing?"  Trey brought a hand to his mouth, chewing on a broken nail as he seemed to think.  "You know we made you within a year of you joining, right?"

Brand, in spite of all his schooling, fuck, his life, couldn't help his jerk, nor his eyebrows hitting his hairline at the other man's disclosure.

"I was already getting us out of the other shit, so you being a part of the ATF was no big deal, Dude.  Until the guns," Trey's face darkened and Brand thought it was because of the memory of what had happened on that lonely mountain road. 

"How did it play out?" Brand asked on a swallow.  "My memory of that day has not come back."

Huff twisted and looked at Brand over his shoulder but the other three men didn’t meet his eyes. 

It was Dare who began to speak first.

"When the ATF came out of the trees, everybody stopped.  But when that short, fat fuck ordered them to fire, you moved, Brand.  So fucking fast, no one could stop you.  The ass who was screaming 'take them down', was shaking so hard, he emptied his clip, his gun trained only on you but you never stopped.  It wasn't until one of Milosevic's men shot him and you fell that we'd even known you'd been hit."

"Shit, you ended up sprawled over the stupid fuck and even punched him.  Don't want to point it out at this late date, but beatin' a dead man is a waste of time, brother," Bishop added with a head shake.

Brand grinned.  Yeah, but he'd still gotten a punch in on the agent that thought he was so much better than the men he'd been assigned to lead.  Another thought came on the heels of that one though.  "Who else was hurt?"

"Only two of the other six agents fired, but they got Zip and Patch.  We think it was one of Milosevic's guys that took out Bell."  Trey's voice was somber as he recounted the club's losses. "Mile, Dice and Silo got the drop on the other agents and the one guard."

"Duct tape is so versatile," Bishop chuckled.  "I'm sure the Sheriff is watching the sale of that shit now that it's been used so often."

"Seein' how everything went so far south," Trey continued.  "The boys put everything back where they got it and we were able to get you and Zip to the hospital."

"Zip was buried local, but we had Patch's body flown to his folks in North Dakota," Huff added his two cents, his body still pointed down the driveway.  "Bell didn't have nobody so the club paid to have him cremated."

The porch was silent in tribute to the fallen men.

"And the charges?"  Brand was wondering how that was going to play since it didn't sound like any of the Hellions had completed the transfer and hadn't done anything but secure the other two groups.

"They've been trying to come up with something, but most of it has had to do with intent," Trey admitted.   "No arrests, which I think has more to do with one of their own doing the most damage."

"Big Duke swallowed his gun the Sunday before last," Dare said slowly.  "The note said to take care of Dee and to let an old dinosaur go."

"We weren't sure if he was talking about himself, Fats or Brisk because the last two haven't been heard from since," Bishop added, his boyish face creased in a frown.  "The old ways are gone.  Trey now leads the Hellions."

Brand shot his eyes to the biker seated next to him.

"Pres was always my goal but I didn't think I'd get it this soon.  But if circumstances demand it, I'm up for the challenge," Trey said modestly bending his mouth to his cup.

Interesting news all the way around, but Brand still didn't understand why they were at his home.

"Heard you were without a job," Dare started, his eyes more on Huff's back than anywhere else. 

"Still got your electrician's license?" Bishop said before bringing the mug to his mouth.

"H&C still needs workers," Trey completed the thought the other men had started.  "And the club, a different kind of Hellions than before, still needs an enforcer and a woman who can make biscuits so big and fluffy the other members are talking about them more than a month later."

"Will he get beaten?  Will you hurt him so bad he can't walk and can barely pee?" came the soft voice from behind the screen door.  Every man's eye went to where Reese stood, tall and proud, her hands wrapped around her waist.  Her eyes were serious as she dragged her gaze through the crowd of the porch.  "I mean, I'm sorry about the other men and all, but…"

"If he fucks up, he pays," Trey hastily explained.  "But the rules will allow the accused to give a reason for their actions before discipline is carried out."

"Is that fair, baby?" she asked, coming outside and taking a place next to the far chair her husband had taken.  His palm met the back of her knee, and he began stroking her leg.

"More than, my beauty," he murmured, wondering at the scene on his porch.  Not even six months ago, he wouldn't have envisioned what was going down, but he was so glad to see it play out now.

"Cool.  Last one in always hosts the next bar-be-que," Bishop said with a smile as he stood and placed his coffee mug on the railing.

"If the biscuits were any indication, Brand's hoo-raw is gonna be the shit," Dare told Bishop, clapping him on a shoulder as they made their way to where the bikes stood, their boots loud on the floorboards.

"Is Reesie the one that taught Carly the thing with the knife?" Huff asked as the other two moved by him.  "She's cooking at home every night now, instead of demanding we go out, just so she can practice her new skill."

"You still got your cut, brother?" Trey asked low, his hands covering his face so that the other men didn't hear or see his question.

"You mean that nasty, blood-stained vest?  I threw the fucking thing out," Reese declared, her firm chin jutting with her announcement.  "There was so much blood on it, even the patches it couldn't be saved."

Trey's bourbon colored eyes did a lazy roam over her before coming back to her face and then shifted to Brand's.  "Fair enough.  We'll be dropping off another one.  And, you
will
be hosting the next bar-be-que."

Trey levered himself up from the chair and went to stand next to his boys.  "Wednesday of next week.  Six o'clock."  He turned and straddled his Harley hog.  "Make him proud, pretty girl."

"She always does, Trey," Brand called back, keeping his ass in place on the wooden chair.  He reached for his wife's small hand, bringing it to his mouth as he kept talking.  "She always does."

Chapter Thirty Four

I felt Brand’s lips on the back of my hand and everything seemed to still.  I didn’t hear the birds chirping, the wind in the trees or the roar of the motorcycles as they left the property. 

It was just him and me in that moment.

We’d had more than a few moments since he’d been released from the hospital. 

Some good and some bad. 

As Atin had warned, my husband was a terrible patient.  He resented how slow his healing took, he hated to be confined and absolutely abhorred having to wait on a doctor’s okay in order to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. 

I lifted my eyes from on my hand and saw he was smiling.  Disengaging, I moved away to pick up the cups strewn about the porch.

“So are you going to consider the offer to go back to the Hellions?”  I tried to make my voice sound casual but the tenseness brought by Trey’s offer had increased, causing my movements to become jerky and stiff.  Even the stacked tray rattled as I picked it up to take it back into house. 

Brand had stood and held the screen door open as I brushed by him.  He didn’t reply immediately as I started rinsing and loading the dishwasher.

“We need to talk,” I heard him say as he propped his good hip on one of the barstools at the breakfast bar.  I glanced at him over my shoulder, trying to get a read on what we needed to discuss. 

Was he upset by me interrupting the all-boy meeting on the porch? 

Did he expect me to remain quiet and in the background when he damn well knew I hated that he had been, or according to Trey, was still in a motorcycle club?

“What about?”  I grabbed the sponge and began scrubbing the counters as if it was the morning after a hellacious, messy party.

“Us,” he said slowly.  “Our future.”

That stopped me in my tracks.  This was going to be a new conversation; one we’d never had before.  We discussed a lot of our pasts and more than a bit of our present. 

But the future? 

Our future? 

Never.

“What about it?”  I was hedging, I knew.  My mind was racing, trying to figure out what was going to be said, how it would be said and wondering what kind of hit my heart was going to take, whatever the ‘it’ was, that was going to be discussed.  I turned to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door, hiding my face in the cold compartment.

I heard him clear his throat and glanced to see he was sliding his hands along the edge of the counter, back and forth, his eyes following his hand’s strokes.  My Brand was not one given to fidgeting, and I could only surmise he was just as uncomfortable about this as I was.

“I think it would be safe to say that neither one of us planned this,” he started and raised a hand that waved between where I was and then back to himself.  “I was not even going to stop, my Reese.  On that road.  In Kansas.”

I saw him swallow and I grabbed the first frozen package my hand came in contact with, pulling it out without looking and setting it on the counter.  Already I didn’t like the discussion, and he was only three sentences into it.

“And even then, I knew if you had been offered any other choice you would not have gotten on the back of my bike.”  The words were said low and slow, seemingly almost dragged out of his mouth.  “But you had no other choice at that time, did you?”

I waited, turned away from him, one hand on the freezer door handle and the other on my hip.

“Nothing was open, there was nowhere to leave you safely.  You were forced to come with me,” he continued, his head still down.  I turned and propped my hips against the counter, listening.  Remembering.  “So we traveled and got to know one another.”

I could feel a frown start as I thought about what he was saying. 

Yeah, the words were true. 

Kind of. 

In a skewed, fragmented way.

“Being chased by dangerous people can find one making decisions one usually would not make, would not do.  Forcing you to be with people you would not choose to be with,” he explained and I saw a blush of color begin on his cheeks. 

He was still sliding his hands and watching them as they moved.

“So what are you saying, Brand?”  I could barely hear my own voice over the hammering of my heart. 

His hands stopped and his head began to rise.

The house phone rang and my eyes shifted to the unit sitting against the wall next to him.  Neither one of us moved to answer it and let it go to the machine.

“This message is for Brandy Mar Jovowitch from Dr. Carter’s office.  The latest x-rays are in, and Dr. Carter says it is okay to for you to go back to your regular activities.  If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to call us,” the young voice advised.  “We look forward to seeing you in two months for your final appointment.”

Silence filled the big space and I saw the red ‘1’ begin to flash on the machine as the message was left.   I didn’t look at him since I’d pretty much processed what he’d said before, while the little receptionist at the doctor’s office had been speaking.

“I guess I am cleared and able to go back to work,” I heard him say.  “And since you have no need to play nursemaid or to be protected…”  His voice wound down not completing his sentence.

I took a deep breath and held it. 

He was right. 

There was no need for us to be together anymore.

And, for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why that thought hurt so goddamn much.  I hadn’t wanted to be married in the first place.  Hadn’t wanted to have a man in my life for any reason.

“Okay,” I started, my voice as weak as my knees.  “Give me thirty minutes to pack. and then if you can take me to a used-car place.  I’ll just be on my way.”

He straightened so fast on his stool I thought he was going to tip over as I forced my body to move towards the stairs.

“No,” he said.  I could feel his eyes on me, but I wasn’t going to embarrass myself by looking at him, remembering what the honeys had said about my inability to maintain a poker face.

“No, draga,” his voice was louder this time, and I felt the breeze as his hand reached for me as I passed him.  But I was able to step and curl my body so our skin didn’t touch as I walked faster, almost running up the stairs. 

I was in our closet, yanking out my backpack, shoving shoes and clothes in as fast as I could grab.  I tried to pick only the things I’d originally had when we met, the things he’d had me choose to take from my car back in Kansas.  I didn’t want, didn’t fucking
need
, any reminders of my time with him.

The burning of my eyes had me raising a hand to rub, to press against my eyelids in order to see.

Deciding I needed toiletries, I quickly moved to the bathroom and cleaned out my shelf of the medicine cabinet, swiped out my drawer and threw the contents of the bottles in the shower on top of everything else.

I ran to the safe, in the wall behind the depths of my clothes and pulled out the stacks of cash I’d brought with me.  I eyed them with disgust even as I shoved the piles down deep within the nylon sides of the bag that had sufficed to hold all my worldly goods through five states. 

Reaching back into the safe, my hand hit metal before shuffling to a thin cardboard box of shells. 

My whole body went into lock down mode at just the touch, the thought of them. 

How could I take a gun and ammo after seeing the effects that metal had on a person… on him and his beautiful body?

The bedroom door slammed loudly and brought me back to reality.

I poked my head out of the closet door.

“You will
not
leave me, Reese,” Brand yelled firmly. 

And his avowal, his affirmation, pissed me right the hell off.

“You just asked me to leave, asshole!”

“I did not!” came the bellowed response from the man now taking a firm stance of legs locked and arms crossed.

“You
so
fucking did!”  Without thinking about what I was doing, I wiped my wet face, not even realizing I was crying and stomped to him, leaning against the closed bedroom door, my pointed finger leading the way.  “You told me we didn’t need each other anymore…”

“But we
want
, wife! 
Want
!”  His face was red as he yelled louder than I’d ever heard him speak before.

Wait…what?

Want?

What was he trying to say?

“I do not need you, but I want you.  I
want
you, so very much, my beauty.”

Everything within me stilled as I allowed his words to echo through my heart. 

Want versus need.

I dropped my hand, my finger and just stared at him as my mind raced to connect the dots. 

The dots of us. 

Yeah, I’d needed him in the beginning to hide me, protect me from Louie and his men.

Then he’d needed me to help him as he’d recovered from the assault of his crazy supervisor pumping his body full of bullets.

But had the want between us been met? 

The wanting to make each other’s lives better, to make each other happy, complete?

Not by a long shot.

“You want me?”  My voice was tremulous as my mind grabbed onto these new thoughts.  “You want to stay married to me?”

“Always,” he said firmly, his arms reaching for my waist.  “But what about you?  What do you want?”

I gazed up into his greeny-gray eyes. 

Eyes that held what I could only describe as ‘love’ as I looked into them.

“You, Brand.  I want you,” I breathed. “Forever.”

And, when his forehead hit mine I realized the truth.

All I’d ever wanted, my whole fucking life even without knowing who he was or when he would come into it…I’d only wanted Brandimir Jovanovic.

My husband.

My love.

My life.