The Biker's Brother (Sons of Sanctuary MC Book 2)

by Victoria Danann

  “I’m surprised your father didn’t think of it.”

  “He may have. But I think, in the end, he also came to understand that Trey isn’t…” she seemed to be searching for the right word, “…stable.”

  “Do you think he’s crazy?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “Yes.”

  Brandon looked perfectly sober.

  “That explains why he wanted to steal you away and keep you someplace safe until after the divorce. But if it’s more than money with this guy, how do you know he’ll move on after the divorce?”

  She shook her head. “I guess I don’t. One step at a time. Right?”

  “Right.” Brandon regretted voicing his thoughts out loud without thinking about the effect his pessimism might have on her.

  They drove on and took turns with the radio. Brandon tried to lighten the mood by making fun of her musical taste. He made fun of the lyrics, the nasal twang, and the slide guitar. She did her best to defend her choice, but was often so overcome with laughter that she couldn’t talk.

  “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. These songs are either about drinking, cheating, or love gone bad,” he said.

  When they stopped for gas and the ladies’ room, Brandon took over driving again and commandeered the radio. At one point he got a little nervous about a pair of headlights following for twenty miles, but eventually they turned off and the lights disappeared.

  “And what do you think rock is about?” She fired her own volley of musical critique. “Sex. Sex. More sex. ‘Oh baby, I just can’t keep my dick in my pants’.”

  Brandon laughed.

  “Makes the world go round.”

  When it started getting darker in the late afternoon, she said, “You promised me a place where I can take a shower and put on dry clothes. With real food.”

  “I promised dry clothes. You made up the rest.”

  “Let’s negotiate.”

  “What do you have that I want?”

  “A turn on the radio.”

  “For what?”

  “Stopping now.”

  The point became moot before he answered because the road ahead was barricaded. There were police cars with lights on blocking the way forward.

  When Brandon pulled up, a sheriff’s deputy in full rain gear walked over. Brandon lowered the window enough to ask, “What’s going on?”

  “The river’s coming up over the bridge. You’ll have to turn around.”

  “Okay. Thanks,” Brandon said.

  He turned around and started to backtrack.

  “What now?” Cami said.

  “I guess we’ll see if we can get a room in the last town. What was the name of it?”

  “Claremoor.”

  By the time they made their way back to Claremoor it was dark, but even through the sheeting rain they could make out the bright pink neon VACANCY sign at the motel beside the road.

  They pulled in under the overhang and went inside.

  “We need two rooms. Connecting.”

  The clerk smiled like that was funny.

  “There’s a road block south of here. The bridge is out. Word’s gotten around and people are scrambling for a place to stay. We’ve got one room with a queen-sized bed.”

  “We’ll take it,” Brandon said.

  Cami was shaking her head vigorously.

  “No. No, we won’t.”

  “Yes. We will.” Brandon did his best impression of an authoritarian figure, but it didn’t faze her in the least. She continued shaking her head.

  “Just a minute.” He held up a finger to the clerk and pulled her aside. “What’s the problem?”

  She motioned between the two of them. “We can’t share a room.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it would be extremely inappropriate and, I might add, unprofessional.”

  “You’re worried that I may put moves on you.” She looked a little offended that he sounded like the idea was preposterous. “You have no worries on that score.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Oh really? And why’s that?”

  She was daring him to say she wasn’t attractive or sexually desirable and he knew he’d have a hard time selling that. So what came out of his mouth next was even more preposterous.

  “Because I’m not interested in girls.” He knew she’d believe him because he was telling the truth. He wasn’t interested in girls. He was interested in women. Like Camden Carmichael.

  She took in a sharp breath. “You’re gay!”

  It was a statement, not a question, and said loud enough that the clerk looked their way with an amused expression.

  Brandon watched her face as he neither confirmed nor denied.

  “Well, that explains a lot,” she said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re not bi?” she whispered.

  He looked her directly in the eyes.

  “I am definitely not bi. And what did you mean, ‘that explains a lot’?”

  Just then the bell over the door rang and another weather-weary traveler trudged in. Brandon sprang for the check-in counter to get there first and spread his arms like he was claiming the entire length of it.

  “We’ll take it,” Brandon announced in no uncertain terms.

  The clerk smirked and pushed a registration card across the counter for Brandon to fill out.

  To the guy who’d just come in, he said, “Sorry, man. Last room’s gone.”

  “But the sign…” The clerk switched the neon sign to NO VACANCY. “Try Morgansville. Maybe they have something.”

  “Morgansville?” The latecomer frowned. “How far is that?”

  “Twenty-two miles north. Turn left at the first light. That’s Highway 429.”

  Cami almost felt sorry enough for the guy to offer him a spot on the floor of their room.

  “Where can we get something to eat?” Brandon asked.

  “The Golden Griddle should be open for your dining pleasure. Three blocks down on the left. Next to the bank.”

  “Golden Griddle,” Cami said drily.

  Brandon took the key then took Cami by the elbow and ushered her out. “Were you expecting pho or a hummus bar?”

  She groaned and the sound caused Brandon’s cock to twitch. “Don’t tease me like that.”

  When they got back in the car, Brandon said, “Okay. Here are the choices. We can go to Golden Griddle, sit down and eat, then come back to the motel and get dry. Or we can go to Golden Griddle, get to go, then come back to the motel, get dry, and eat in the room.”

  “Door number two.”

  He nodded and started the car.

  Golden Griddle was open for business and they did get sopping wet, again.

  When a concerned-looking woman approached them, Brandon said, “Can we get dinner to go?”

  “Sure can,” she said cheerfully. She handed them both menus.

  “What’s fast?” he asked.

  “Most anything except steak,” she said.

  Brandon turned to Cami and repeated, “Most anything except steak,” as if that was news and she was hard of hearing. His lips twitched at the corners when she made a face.

  They sat on a vinyl bench and waited for club sandwiches, waffle fries, strawberry cheesecake.

  The food was packed in Styrofoam containers, inside paper sacks, inside plastic bags.

  “I put plastic bags around this so it won’t get wet and soggy. Plastic ware and napkins are inside.”

  “Perfect. Thank you,” Brandon said as he took the bags from her.

  Brandon backed the SUV up so that the hatch back was right in front of their door. When the hatch was lifted it provided a sheltering bridge between the car and the porch overhang. That meant the luggage made it into the room without getting wet.

  It was the usual motel setup. Bed. Two nightstands. Desk. Chair. TV. Seventies décor that had needed updating for thirty-five years. Or more. Everything within was old and tired, but on inspection, it seemed reasonably clea
n.

  Cami began rifling through one of her bags.

  “Shower before food and I claim it first.”

  “Okay, but hurry up. I’m liking the idea of some hot water myself.”

  She waved a hand by her shoulder in acknowledgement without looking up. When she located what she was looking for in her suitcase, she set it aside. She removed her hoodie and boots, then pulled her knit shirt over her head. When she turned to face Brandon, she was standing there in a flesh-colored, see-through lace bra that showed off her unimaginably perfect tits in the most beguiling way.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” she said, looking mortified.

  Schooling his features to look as nonchalant as possible, he dropped his backpack in front of his crotch to hide his reaction to the exhibition standing in front of him, making his mouth water. It would be a sure giveaway that her misimpression regarding his sexual orientation was far afield of reality. He’d led her to a faulty conclusion and was stuck with it for the duration. After cursing himself for stupidity, he had to replay what she’d just said in his head a couple of times to settle on an answer that sounded like his brain was working.

  “About what?”

  “What I said about the New York designer. I didn’t mean anything.”

  Brand managed a smile.

  “I don’t have thin skin and that guy probably plays up the flame because most muggles think that the more fabulous you are, the more creative you are.” His eyes flicked downward and he smiled more broadly. “Pretty bra. I can see you have an appreciation for fine lingerie.”

  Looking down she ran her hands down the sides of her breasts, which almost brought him to his knees.

  “Thanks. I like this one, too. Muggles?”

  He swallowed hard. “It means…”

  “I know what it means. I’m just surprised you do.”

  “Got dragged to one of the movies by a friend.”

  “Uh huh.”

  When she reached to unzip her jeans, Brandon decided it would be an ideal time to step outside and make phone calls on the porch. He turned away, dropped the backpack on the floor, and left the discomforting sight of Cami Carmichael in pretty things made of see-through lace.

  He called his lawyer first and gave him detailed instructions on drawing up a new will for Cami.

  Then he called Brant.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Brand.”

  “I know. I gave you that phone.”

  “Right. We need a Plan B on this leg.”

  “What’s up?”

  “An unfortunate weather pattern. We’ve lost an entire day to heavy rain sitting right on top of us. Had to stop in Claremore, Tennessee because of high water. Bridge is closed to the south. You think you can find a local pilot who’s instrument rated and willing to fly us out of this?”

  “Hold on.”

  After a few minutes, Brant came back on the line.

  “That weather’s headed this way and it’s big as the great state of Texas. You’re going to have to head west to get out of it. We want you to keep moving. It’s the safest thing.”

  “I know.”

  “Call you back with details.”

  “Yep.”

  Brandon heard the ended call beeps. He’d had a chance to survey the motel while he was on the phone. He’d walked the length of the porch. There were vehicles parked in front of every room, but none seemed unusual. Of course that wasn’t a conclusive inference. After all, their vehicle seemed innocuous.

  Every room had lights on, curtains drawn. A motel like that one was a security nightmare, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d sleep facing the door, the Smith and Wesson with Crimson Trace under his pillow. It was a great gun for shooting while sleepy because the laser took accuracy of aim off the table. Point and pull. End of story.

  When he reentered the room, he heard that the shower was still running. He turned on the TV to check stock prices. He’d been antsy about being out of touch with business for two days. He stood in front of the TV partly because he was tired of sitting down and partly because he didn’t want his damp clothes to get the bed wet.

  The pipes made high-pitched noises of protest when she turned the water off. He took that as a cue to get his own dry clothes together. So he unzipped his athletic bag and pulled out a pair of clean black knit boxers, a long-sleeve cotton tee, and the oldest softest jeans he owned.

  When Cami emerged from the steamy bathroom, she looked good enough to eat. Her cheeks were flushed and shiny and, unlike a lot of women, she looked damn good without any makeup at all. She was wearing a different pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a short-sleeved cropped tee shirt that looked soft as sin.

  She smiled brightly. “All yours.”

  Brandon nodded and started toward the bathroom when he realized that he couldn’t go into the bath and turn on the shower while leaving Ms. Carmichael alone in the motel room. Unguarded. He stood still for a minute tapping his fingers against his thigh.

  When she noticed that he hadn’t moved, she said, “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re not going to like this.”

  “Well, what else is new?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Everything’s relative.”

  “Just put it out there.”

  “I want a shower. No. I need a shower.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “I can’t leave you alone out here.”

  She stared at Brandon with a blank look on her face for several seconds before breaking into laughter that warmed his blood like fine whiskey.

  “Well, don’t be shy. I’ll watch you take a shower. A good beefcake show might be just what I need to relieve the monotony of rain pounding on metal.”

  Brandon gaped. That response was the last thing he’d expected. He tried to imagine having this woman, the one he was developing a craving for, watch him take a shower.

  “Just so you know. I usually shower without any clothes on.”

  She looked at him like he might be slow. “Yeeeees. I suspected that.”

  He thought he’d had some unusual sexual encounters, but the accursed homosexual charade was turning into a bigger calamity at every turn. If there was a way out of it, he couldn’t find it. So he decided to put on his big boy pants, or, ah, take them off, and be mature about it. After all, it wasn’t like he was ashamed of his body.

  He put on the least sincere smile of his entire life and said, “Glad you’re not going to give me trouble.”

  “Trouble? No indeed. I can hardly wait.” She waved toward the bath. “Let’s get to it so we can eat. Instead of dinner and a show, it will be a show then dinner.”

  The way she laughed had him hating the idea of being the ‘show’. Christ. Was that what it felt like to be objectified?

  He could see that she was genuinely enjoying herself and thought he might be witnessing devilish Cami.

  Devilish.

  Surprising.

  Sexy.

  Fun.

  Smart.

  And damaged.

  She followed him into the bathroom, closed the door behind her, then closed the toilet seat, sat down and crossed her legs. There she sat swinging one leg in anticipation, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

  “You’re not making this easy,” he said.

  “Payback’s a bitch,” she said.

  “What am I being paid back for?” he asked.

  “Well, let’s see. Waking me up with a pillow to the head. Making me travel in wet pajama bottoms all day because you didn’t give me time to dress this morning, much less shower. Then there was the music.”

  “Alright. Alright. I get the picture.”

  The bath was smaller than most broom closets. The shower was a standard three by three feet. The rest of the room was just big enough for a sink, toilet and one person.

  Brandon pulled the flimsy vinyl curtain out of the way, turned on the water and waited until the temperature was right. The whole time he was silently chanting an affirmation that he would not le
t her see how awkward he felt about undressing in front of her.

  When he pulled the wet Henley and tee shirt off over his head, Cami surpassed smiling and openly leered at his exposed upper body.

  “What possessed you to cover half your body in all this color?” Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Not that it isn’t attractive. I mean, I can see the appeal. But didn’t it hurt?”

  “Yes. It hurt.”

  He continued undressing, ignoring the question about why he would do that to his body. He just didn’t feel like getting into the whole tale of matching his brother so he could get to know his dad incognito.

  He tried to drop his wet pants, but they stuck to his legs and fought being removed.

  “Here,” she said. “Let me help.”

  “What happened to the person who was adamantly opposed to sharing a room because of the appearance of impropriety?”

  “That was before I knew that it was just us girls.” She smiled.

  “Now wait a minute…”

  From her makeshift grandstand she peeled at the jeans until she’d pushed them to the floor. Naturally, between that and the act of exposing himself to Cami, he was sporting the biggest erection of his entire life. He thought about trying to hide it, but realized there was no way in that proximity. The only thing he could do was own it.

  When he pushed the boxers down and stood up, his full and protruding glory was just twelve inches from her face and looking like it was trying to pull the rest of his body forward.

  “I think this establishes the fact that this is not ‘just us girls’.”

  Camden’s eyes were wide and the smile had left her face. She swallowed, not able to pull her gaze away. It seemed that Brandon had been hiding what was without a doubt a penis intended for a god, the standard by which all others would be measured for all time. It was long, thick, straight and of a color that was pleasingly pink. The thick veins were not a detraction, but rather suggested an enhanced virility.

  She could have wept thinking that such a work of art would be reserved for other men. It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t fair. But as Trey had loved to say as often as possible, life is not fair.

  “Criminy, bodyguard. You’ve got a devilish body. If you weren’t into boys…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but the rest of the sentiment was obvious.