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.
Chapter Twenty Two
The pounding was what woke me up. Not the sunshine pouring in from all the windows without curtains. It was the deep pounding on our front door that had me shoving the nest of pillows and blankets away as I quickly stepped to it, twisting the different locks and easing it open.
"Yeah," I mumbled, squinting at the figure on the porch. I was swearing long and loud in my head though. If whoever it was woke Bay, I was gonna kill them without even thinking about it. It had been a very rough night.
"Brand here?" I heard a deep voice rumble.
"Who wants to know?" I shot back, trying to smooth my hair and hold the blanket I had around me up at the same time.
"Trey," came the reply. I blinked and the man came into focus. All it took was the decorated vest to set my hackles rising.
"He's not available at this time," I mumbled, easing myself out the door and pulling it partially closed behind me. "What is this regarding?"
"Who the fuck are you, pretty girl?" the man asked and I blinked in order to get a good view of who I was speaking with.
Tall and well built. Big, soulful brown eyes fringed with lots of dark lashes. A manly face only softened by a pair of full lips framed by a thick brown goatee.
"I'm Reese. Brand's wife," I murmured as I continued to assess the man in front of me. Yeah, like that was something hard to do. If I hadn't had Bay, I would've been drooling over the hunk in front of me.
"Wife?" he questioned, turning his head while holding my eyes.
I held up my left hand, palm towards me and wiggled my fingers to allow him to capture the glints in my smooth silver band.
"As of when?" he barked.
"Uh, this is Monday, right?" I asked trying but failing to remember what day it was. Shit, after last night, I was damn well lucky to remember where I was in the whole scheme of things, much less when.
"Yeah," Trey replied shooting me a look as if I'd grown an extra head or something before his eyes went back to his bike sitting next to Bay's.
"Then, day before yesterday."
His face moved only a quarter turn back to mine before I heard him growl, "is he all right?"
There was something in his voice that let me know this wasn't an idle question, that there was more going on than what I could fathom at the moment. "It was a rough night but he's doing better," I admitted with a shrug.
I saw the dark haired man look at his boots before he asked, "can I see him?"
"Can you be quiet and not upset him?" I shot right back. If this guy was gonna undo all the work I'd put in, then I was thinking I should ask him to leave.
He glanced at me and I saw one side of his mouth tip up into a half-assed grin. "Yeah, I can do that."
I pressed against the heavy door and stepped back allowing the unknown badass into the home that Brand had asked me to 'make my own'. I only hoped I wasn't making a huge mistake.
"Can I trust you with him enough so I can go upstairs and get dressed?" I stage whispered to Trey.
He was standing by the side of Brand's sofa, and I saw his knees soften, then release until his ass hit the wood of the coffee table with a thud that echoed in the morning light.
"I'll take that as a yes," I continued in my loud breathy voice from halfway up the staircase. Seeing his nod, I raced up the remaining way and zoomed into the closet, shucking on jeans and racing to the drawers to yank a t-shirt over my head. Electric toothbrushes had nothing on me as I whizzed through my morning routine before creeping back down the stairs as if I had all the time in the world.
"Coffee?" I offered, aiming and shaking the filter basket towards him.
"Please," came his soft reply.
I didn't get it. Why was one of the club members here to check up on my Brand? As I kept on eye on the proceedings going on at the couch, my eyes caught on the first fidgets of Bay's legs. Grabbing the ibuprofen and a bottle of water, I squeezed by Trey and knelt next to my husband.
"Hey, baby," I soothed, running a hand over his head, forehead and caressing his cheek. "How you feeling?"
Atin had warned me of a fever during last night's phone conversation, but my patient didn't feel any warmer than usual. Which I took as a good thing.
I saw his tongue come out to lick his lips, and I shifted to hold his shoulders while holding the bottle to his mouth. "Steady now. Not too much," I cautioned before he pulled his lips away from the plastic rim and my arm helped lower him back down.
"You need to take some pills, Brand," I instructed and poured four of the little dark orange tablets out into my hand before I again picked up the water bottle.
"It'd be better if he took them with coffee," I heard the deep voice behind me grouse.
One of Brand's eyes, the less swollen of the two, opened slowly.
"Then get him a cup." While my voice wasn't quite a yell, it still echoed within the confines of the great room. "Black in one of the dark red mugs."
I turned my face back to my husband before continuing. "Those are his favorites." I'd noticed just in the little bit we'd been at the cabin that Brand only used the red dishes and cups.
My husband's hand reached out and captured mine that was squeezing the top of his blanket like it held my entire life's savings. At the look I saw in just that one eye, I dropped my head and pressed it to our entwined hands.
Raising myself upwards, I put my mouth next to his ear. "I need to call Atin again and get some other stuff done. Are you gonna be okay with Trey here?" I leaned back to ensure I caught his reply.
He nodded and I got a deep blink.
"I wish I could kiss you, Brand," I admitted quietly as I tucked the blanket tighter underneath his arms. He leaned his head to the side of the pillow, and I pressed my forehead to his— one of the only parts of his body not ridiculously bruised. "I'll be right back, okay?"
At his second nod, I pressed my lips on that open, unbruised expanse of skin and traded places with Trey as I snagged my own cup of coffee. I went out of the glass-fronted back doors onto the patio that stretched the width of the house while pulling my cell from my back pocket.
/> "How is he?" Atin answered without preliminaries.
"Okay, I guess. As you predicted, he threw up a couple of times last night and just woke up a couple of minutes ago. He's being fed ibuprofen and coffee as we speak."
"It is not you that is giving him this?" Came Atin's strident voice. "Reese? Get the pills away from him now. Immediately!"
I raced into the house and knocked both the coffee mug and the pills from Trey's hands in a one-two slap.
"What the fuck?" I heard Trey bellow from behind me as my toes caught on the brightly patterned rug. My body was already twisting as I landed on a hip, and I quickly crawled back up to Brand's face. I was sweating and panting while looking him square in the only eye he could open.
"Did you take any of the pills?" I asked him, my voice giving away my fear. "Atin said only I can give you them. So did you take any?"
I caught Brand's eye roll and slight head shake, a move I'd seen so frequently but usually in reaction to something I'd done or said. I could hear a tinny voice calling my name from somewhere around floor level. Oh yeah, the cellphone. I snagged it and brought back up to my ear.
"Atin? No, he didn't take any of the pills or coffee," I explained but I was panting like I'd just run a four minute mile. "I'll get him settled and give you a call back."
Standing, I assessed the damage of the spilled drink and spied a couple of the orange pills on the floor. Geesh, what a mess. Luckily, the coffee cup hadn't broken.
"What was that about?" I heard Trey ask harshly. I ignored him as I went back into the kitchen and filled another mug bringing it back to Brand. Shaking out more pills, I gently fed them to him one at a time and placed the lip of the cup to his mouth after each one. He seemed to be a bit better and had been able to lever himself up onto one elbow when he'd taken the ibuprofen.
"Are you hungry?" I asked when he sank back down to the pillow I'd brought down for him last night. He shook his head and closed his one good eye. "Okay, then I'm just going to clean this mess up."
Hiding in Plain Sight Page 18
