Hiding in Plain Sight (9 page)

"Okay," she said, brushing by him, providing him with another nose-full of her alluring scent.  He watched as she transferred her bits of fabric from the washer to the dryer closest to the restroom.  She was thinking better now.  He could tell she was starting to absorb what he was teaching her about the rules about remaining safe.

When she made her way back to the plastic, connected chairs, she pulled a magazine in front of her face as cover.

"I think we need to get some scissors," she said from behind the glossy, mangled, cover.  "The change of color isn't enough."  He caught her eyes when he leaned back into the seat.  "I've got to cut it."

"Are you sure?" he asked.  He knew she was proud of her hair by the way she took care of it and played with it, touched it.  At her nod, he sighed.  Sighing was starting to become a habit.  A habit that he had developed over just the last couple of days.  He let his eyes roam over the beauty of her tresses, trying to imagine it shorter. 

He couldn't. 

"Then I will cut your hair and you will cut mine."

"Yours?" she asked, incredulously.   "Why do you need to cut yours?"

"It is only fair, don't you think?" he asked slowly.  "I will change my look as well."  He took out the list he'd been making from before and added a few more items to it.

"What if I screw it up though?" she asked and he felt himself harden with how cute she looked with a scrunched up nose.

"It is just hair.  It will grow back," he replied, unworried at the thought. 

"But it's so hot…" she started and he saw the blush bloom as she realized what she'd said.  "I mean, you look good with your hair just like it is."

She found him handsome.  

She'd almost called him hot.

This was a development he hadn't foreseen.  She found him attractive, just as he did her.  He stood up and made his way to the dryer as a way to turn his back to her and adjust himself within his tight leathers.  The realization of their mutual attraction was too much for his body to ignore, too much for him to shove away.  He hadn't been with a woman in a while, and his cock was letting him know it in the basest way possible that it wanted the famine to be over.

"Your clothes should be dry by now," he called over his shoulder, wondering how he was going to be able to ignore what was growing between them as they traveled further on their journey.

Chapter Nine

In the end, neither one of us cut hair that evening. 

Bayco had started making phone calls and, since he spoke in a language I didn't know, I had no clue what he was talking about or to whom.  At one point, he'd even gone outside our motel room to complete the conversation, which I'd thought was just plain rude since I couldn't understand much of what he said anyway.

The drive-by from earlier at the laundry mat had put me on pins and needles once again.  I'd needed it though.  Needed it to remind me that I was not safe either with or without Bayco.  I needed to pay attention and keep on my toes all the time if I wanted to stay clear of the horrible man who wanted me back so badly.

I was sitting with my back to the door, on my side of the bed bent over my backpack.  I wanted to count my remaining money.  Bayco had been paying for everything from meals to our room each night, but I would be paying for my new clothes and other things tomorrow.  I needed to see how much was remaining and then keep an eye on how much I spent. 

When I'd traded in the Mercedes, I'd thought getting the beat-up car and twelve thousand had been a boon.  A nice little nest egg that would get me someplace safe where I could set up a new life.

After spending so many hours tucked up behind him with nothing to do but think as my teeth were rattled almost out of my skull, I was starting to see how naïve those plans actually were. 

I don't know how I thought I was going to support myself after I got to that magical place further up the road.  The place that would keep me hidden from Louie's long reach.  I'd barely squeaked by in high school, only getting grades good enough to get my diploma, not enough to get any kind of scholarship for college. 

Not that I'd wanted to go by any means. 

Plus, I'd only ever worked at the Dairy Queen, so my job skills were sadly lacking.  Even if I knew how expand on it, the 'previous experience' portion would only be one line on the application.  What kind of job, the kind of job that could support my day-to-day needs, could I hope to get with so little schooling and experience?

So my little nest-egg wasn't going to cut it.

I couldn't give up, though.

Giving up meant going back.  Going back and becoming Mrs. Louis Deschames of the Beaumont, Texas variety.  A twenty-one year old gal from the backwater of East Texas married to the sixty-seven year old kingpin of what some would call the Texas Mafia.

That wasn't going to happen even if I had to die to prevent it.

I finished my counting and found it matched the amount I'd started with when I'd first crawled up behind Bayco on that road way back in Kansas.  $11, 900.00 all in one hundred dollar bills.  Not enough.  Not nearly enough.

Bayco's voice got closer to the door, and he was still speaking that unknown language as he came through, although when he disconnected the call he was smiling.  He was stunning especially when he smiled. 

And that damn dimple was killer.

I turned on the TV while throwing an 'everything okay?' out into the room.

"Yes," he said, removing his leather jacket and boots.  I felt his eyes on me and turned to look at him.  "We need to talk, Reese."

God, I was beginning to hate those words.

I clicked the TV off with a huge, heartfelt sigh.  "What about, now?"

He pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed and propped his bare feet on the mattress after settling himself.  "You."

Yeah, how shocking.  He wanted to talk about me.  Again.

"What about me?" I asked as I pulled my hair over my shoulder, pulling my fingers through the long strands.  I was really beginning to like the color.

"Your name is Reese Ann Hoover.  You were born on November 8th, 1992 in Rogarville, Texas."

Oh, shit!

I forced the fingers that had stilled, while he spoke, to comb through my hair again.

"The man who is looking for you is Louis Deschames, a little, bitty crime boss out of Beaumont, Texas, who paid your father thirty-thousand dollars to have you when you turned twenty-one," he went on.

This was bad. 

This was so very, fucking bad.

Even I could hear it when I swallowed thickly.  I don't think I could've spoken even if I had the spittle to do it.

"This little, bitty crime boss once did a big favor for another man, a much more powerful man on the other side of Texas by the name of Laza Milosevic.  It seems that Louie's new, young wife-to-be just keeps getting away from him though.  Enough that he called in that favor and asked for Laza's help in getting her back," his voice had gotten quieter as he spoke, telling me things I didn't know.

Quiet settled in the room as we stared at one another.

"Do you know of the Milosevics, Reese?" he asked slowly.

I shook my head.  I'd never heard the name.

"They were born in Serbia and began to move to the U.S. in the nineties.  A huge family, but the main players are the five brothers, Goran, Drago, Nenad, Branko and Laza," he explained.  The names meant nothing to me, but the tone Bayco was using was tight and hard, letting me know they meant something to him. 

Something not good,
really
not good at all.

I tried to speak but couldn't get the words out of my dry mouth.  He waited as I polished off what was left in my water bottle.

"How does that affect me?" I asked in a shaky voice.  "Those Miloso-whatever guys?"

"Milosevics," he corrected.  "You want the good news or the bad news first?" he asked, re-crossing his feet at the ankles and settling back in his chair, resting his crossed arms on his chest.  I shrugged because I couldn't see that there
would
be any good news in whatever he was going to say next. 

At least, not for me.  

"The bad news is that you, by yourself, will never get away from them.  Never, Reese.  They are like wolverines when they set their sights on something.  They do not give up and they don't let go.  This is true even of the people who work for them," he explained and I felt my stomach drop.  Bayco was telling me I had no hope.  "The good news is that I know of these people, how they work.  How they think.  And, draga, I can hide and protect you from them."

"But you said they never give up," I countered.  I was shivering, goose bumps racing over my skin even though the room was warm.  Warm enough that I was perspiring all along my hairline.

"This is true.  But I have ways of getting around them that they have not yet discovered," he said confidently.  

A little too confidently, in my opinion.

"How?" was about all I could get out at the moment.

"I am still working on a few portions But for the moment, we will be staying with our original plan.  We still have some options open, and I will be working on setting them up.  When everything is in place, we will discuss this again," he said with a chin jut.  The tightening of his jaw line, the narrowing of his beautiful, greeny-gray eyes turned him from hot to scary in seconds.

"How did you find out about me, about my past?" I finally asked, my voice a quiet whisper in the room.

He broke our eye connection and scrubbed a hand over his face.  I was thinking the move was to give him time to come up with some sort of a lie.  That's what I would do, anyway, if asked a direct question I didn't want to answer.

But his voice was kind when it came again.  "Draga, when on the run, you do not keep your driver's license on you."

I scooted quickly off the mattress and to my purse, which was propped against the backpack on my side of the bed.  Ripping open my wallet, I saw my license in its same place, underneath the plastic shield, exactly where it should be.  I could feel my frown as I looked back at him over my shoulder.

"You sleep very deeply," he mumbled.

"What else did you find when I was sleeping?" I demanded, twisting to look at him full in the face.

"Are you asking about the gun or the money?" 

Don't you hate it when people answer a question with another question?

Shit, shit,
shit
.

I plopped down onto my butt right beside my purse.  I was so screwed.  So freaking screwed it was unbelievable.  I glanced up at him along the width of the mattress to see he was watching me, head tilted so he could see from around his feet. 

"How'd you get all that information on me just from my driver's license?" I asked but my tone made it much of a demand.

"I have a friend who can work the internet very well," he said simply, not reacting at all to either my tone or my scowl.  "He also knows of the Milosevics and had already heard that Laza's branch was working to recover a missing bride in my area."

"I ain't nobody's bride," I mumbled, pulling at my lip.  "Wait!  What'd you mean by 'your area'?"

I saw Bayco's body still and all expression was wiped from his face at my question.

"We have done enough talking for tonight and have a long day in front of us tomorrow," he said finally before he stood and moved the chair back into place at the small table.

"Bay?" I whispered, confused by his complete shutdown.  But I got it a moment later when he raised his eyes to me and saw them do a long slow roam over my body.

My brain was too full, my nerves too on edge to get upset with his ordering me around or to block my body's immediate response to the hot sex his eyes promised.

*.*.*.*.*

Atin had, with only a few clicks of a mouse that Brand could hear through the phone, been able to get Reese's information.   Just as Niko had been able to, with two short phone calls tie that information to the puffed-up piss ant in Texas who allegedly 'owned' her.  The man she was so afraid of and from whom she was running.

None of that had bothered Brand in the least.  That was, until Niko confirmed that his uncle Laza was involved in the search for her.

Brand hadn't lied when he told her that he would be able to keep her safe, that he knew the Milosevic's tactics and modes of operation.  Nor had he lied when he told her of their determination in finding people who wanted to remain hidden.  It would be tricky and perhaps complicated to keep her away from them, but Brand wasn't worried.  Concerned and on guard, but not worried.

He could tell she was, though.  She was tossing and turning on her side of the bed, re-arranging the sheet and blanket, balling up then smoothing out her pillow.  Brand reached a hand across the expanse between them until he felt skin.  Heated, soft skin.

"Be still, draga," he murmured tiredly.  "You need to sleep."

He heard her take in a deep breath and hold it before she let it out in a rush. 

"It's hard to be still when you've got the Serbian mob on your ass," she murmured back.

He couldn't help his grin at her words, imagining the look on her face as she spoke them.

"There is nothing we can do to change this and nothing we can do tonight to further our journey.  You need your rest, Reese."

There were a few moments of quiet, and he felt himself begin to drift off before the sound of her husky voice brought him back up to wakefulness.

"I'm scared, Bayco," she whispered as she turned towards him, moving to catch his hand which was still on her arm.  He entwined his fingers with hers and brought them, without thinking, to his mouth for a quick, comforting kiss.