Hiding in Plain Sight

by Hornbuckle, J. A.

  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 he
r 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.

  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.