“Why not?”
“Because fajitas are not New Mexican.”
“Sure they are.”
Brand was shaking his head. “Nope. They were invented by Ninfa Laurenzo in Houston, Texas.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Every lover of Mexican food knows that,” he said in an aggravatingly snobby way.
“Well, I’m sure they do them with a New Mexico flair here.”
He chuckled. “You’re sure of that, are you?”
A middle-aged man with gray hair, gray eyes, and a gray apron over jeans came up. “Evening. What can I get you?”
“Fajitas al carbon,” Cami said.
“Beef or chicken?”
“Both?”
He nodded. “Flour or corn tortillas?”
“Corn.”
“Will you have a margarita with that?”
She hadn’t thought about it, but a margarita didn’t sound half bad. “Well…”
“We have blackberry tonight. House special.”
“Blackberry margarita?” He nodded. “Yes. I have to try that.”
“You won’t be sorry.” He turned to Brandon. “You, sir?”
“I’ll have the Governor’s Deluxe Combo. No alcohol. Water’s fine.”
“Sure. So you folks here for the concert?”
Brandon opened his mouth to say no, but Cami beat him to it with, “What concert?”
“It’s the last one of the year. When the full moon shines on the white sand it’s almost as light as day. You should go see for yourself. You know the Night Before Christmas? The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave a lustre of midday to objects below? Well, that’s what it looks like.”
When the man left, Brandon was already shaking his head before Cami had a chance to turn on the pleading expression. He saw it coming. He was just about to deliver a definitive, “Not a chance,” when the proprietor returned with a flyer.
Reading from it, he said, “It’s Texas singer/songwriter, Rudy Wood, performing with the Tularosa Basin Musicians Union. They bring Wood’s songs to life with slide guitar, mandolin, banjo, and harmonica.” With that he left the flyer on the table and was gone again.
“Brandon, it’s country! We have to go.”
“We’re not going, Rose.”
“Okay, forget the music. We have to see the full moon on the white sand, right? I mean, when are we ever going to get a chance to do that again?”
“Sometime when we’re not running from a possibly psycho, potentially dangerous husband.”
Her mood went instantly serious. “He’s not my husband. The legal formality may still be in process, but he became my ex-husband the minute I discovered he was planning to kill me.” She leaned forward a little. “For money.”
“Okay. I get the distinction, but the fact remains. Have you forgotten what we’re doing out here? We’re running from your ex who, as you just said, wanted to kill you. For money.”
“Don’t you want to see the lustre of midday on objects below? Come on. Look at it this way. You’ll be able to see everything. Let’s go. If it seems like it’s too dangerous, I’ll go peaceably.” He shouldn’t have any trouble saying no, but that hopeful face was making it hard. “What are you afraid of? Nobody’s going to do anything with a bunch of music lovers around watching.”
She had a point. It seemed unlikely that somebody working for Michaels would make a move at a music concert. Unless it was a sniper. But sniping was the wild card that was impossible to plan for, which sort of made it a non-factor.
When the proprietor or manager or waiter returned with Cami’s purple margarita, Brand said, “How many people usually go to these things?” He indicated the flyer.
“Oh. Might get as many as two hundred.”
“Two hundred,” Brandon deadpanned. When someone said the word concert, the image that sprang to mind wasn’t one of maybe two hundred people.
The man nodded as he left.
Cami put her hands together like she was begging.
Christ. How did anybody ever say no to her?
“We’ll go check it out. If it looks like it’s not any more dangerous than…”
“Being in a restaurant?”
Brandon’s mouth didn’t smile, but his eyes gave away his amusement. “Yeah. That.”
She chatted happily through dinner, which wasn’t bad at all, and made yummy sounds whenever she sipped blackberry margarita through a straw. “You really should try this. It’s incredible.”
“You’re not seriously recommending that when you know that the only thing standing between you and potential mayhem is me.”
Ignoring that, she said, “I’m stuffed,” and pushed the oval-shaped plate away as if to put an exclamation point on her announcement.
The fact that Brandon was vulnerable to her wishes charmed her. It had been a long time since she’d felt like she had that kind of power over a man, the kind of power that made someone care about whether or not a woman was pleased. And for the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours she found herself wishing that he wasn’t gay.
Sure. It made traveling together as strangers a lot more relaxed, but damn. She had no trouble picturing him in all sorts of compromising positions. Positions being the operative word.
When they left the Casa de Rosa, they turned south toward Alamagordo. On the southern outskirts Brandon pulled into a motel with a sign that said The Lost Saucer Inn. It was a rundown motel with about twenty rooms. Not the sort of place anyone would ever expect Carmichael’s only daughter to be spending the night.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“Getting a room. Come.”’
He opened his door and got out.
After getting out of the car, she said, “Don’t give me commands like I’m a dog.”
He smiled on the inside because, even though her mouth rebelled, she followed. As he held the door open for her, he scanned for any suspicious activity. There was none. They were acting out a good plan and he knew it.
The Camden Carmichael he’d first seen in that New Jersey warehouse was beautiful. And this Camden Carmichael was beautiful, but you’d have to be close and know her pretty well to realize they were the same person.
Between the drastic change in looks and the drastic change in geography, it was unlikely she’d be found. But it was Brand’s job to be vigilant regardless.
“Need a room for the night,” he said to the clerk.
“Alright. You here for the concert?”
“That’s right,” said Brandon. “I’m a country music lover, how about you?”
He heard Cami snigger behind him as he smiled at the manager.
“Not so much,” said the kid, “but full moon on the sand is kinda cool.”
“Can’t wait,” Brand said as he retrieved his fake drivers’ license and the credit card account opened in the same name. Bradley Forrester. “Thank you.”
“Mr. Forrester?” Brandon turned around. Thank goodness he’d chosen a name similar to Fornight. The clerk was holding out the key. “You forgot the key.”
“Oh sure. Excited about tonight I guess.”
The kid smiled. “Number forty-three.”
“Forty-three? I don’t see that many rooms.”
The clerk rolled his eyes. “I know. The owner’s into numerology. She has her own reasons for how and why the rooms are numbered.”
“Okay.” Brand lifted an eyebrow in solidarity with the kid’s misgivings.
“Stop it,” Cami said, looking between them. “That’s as good a reason for numbering things as sequential order. Maybe she knows something we don’t know.”
“Look. Everybody’s entitled to her own opinion, but does it look like she knows something we don’t know?” The kid gave a small wave to indicate the condition of the establishment that cut his paycheck.
Cami lifted her chin. “I’m glad to have a warm, dry, clean place to spend the night.” After a couple of seconds, she adde
d, “The room is clean, isn’t it?”
The kid grinned. “That is about the only good thing you can say. The owner is a maniac about clean. It’s like that disorder where people can’t stop cleaning.”
“Obsessive compulsive?” Cami asked.
“Yes. Like that.”
“Well, I hope it’s not debilitating for her, but…” she looked at Brandon, “good for us?”
Brand held the key up. “Thanks again.”
“Oh. About getting there tonight.” He pointed to the road outside. “Take 70 south. You’ll run right into the park visitors’ center. They’ll give you directions. A lot of people bring folding chairs. But you can sit on the ground if you don’t have them. I mean, the sand sort of conforms to your, um, body.”
Brandon chuckled. “We don’t have chairs with us, but we’re both okay with conformity.”
As they were leaving, she said, “Speak for yourself.”
He chuckled. Handing her the key, he said, “You can check out the room while I bring in the stuff.”
When he pulled up to number forty-three, she was out of the car as soon as it stopped rolling.
He grabbed the bags out of the back seat first and hauled them inside.
“A double bed,” he said.
She turned and looked at the bed. “Is that a problem?”
He assumed her question meant that he’d said that out loud.
Yes. Yes it is.
“No. Why would it be?”
He turned without elaborating to retrieve the rest of the luggage.
“Come on,” she said. “It’s almost dark. We’re going to miss it.”
“We’re not going to miss as much as I’d like to.” She rolled her eyes. “I just need to sort through a few things.”
She watched him hide various-sized guns. Two in a hunter-style vest with zippered pockets. One in a boot.
“Aren’t you afraid of shooting yourself in the foot?”
“Metaphorically, yes. Physically, no.”
“I’m bringing waters. We didn’t ask if they sell stuff.”
“They’ve probably got hot dog and pretzel stands.”
“Ugh,” she said in disgust.
“And tee shirts.”
“Tee shirts?” She sounded as hopeful as a kid who’s never been to an amusement park. “I want a tee shirt.”
“You sound like you’ve never bought a souvenir tee shirt.”
“I haven’t.”
He stared at her for a few seconds. “Okay. If they have tee shirts for sale, we’ll get you one.”
The grin she gave him made his heart melt into an ooey gooey mass of inexperience. Brandon had never been in love. He’d never even wanted to spend time with a woman outside the bedroom. He didn’t want to put a name on what he was feeling because that would be too scary.
“I can’t help but wonder what other kinds of great American experience you’ve missed,” he said as he opened the door. When they were in the car and going south on 70, he said, “Have you ever been to an amusement park?”
“You mean like Disneyworld?”
“Yes. For example.”
“No.
He nodded. “Have you ever been to a music festival? The kind that could fill up Central Park?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been to the movies on a date?”
“Movies? Um, no.”
He could see that she was beginning to wilt. Like his questions were making her feel like she’d missed out, and seeing her become smaller wasn’t fun. So he decided to reverse that process.
“But I’ll bet you’ve sipped brandy on a yacht underneath the palace at Monaco.”
She smiled. “It was cognac and I wasn’t drinking age. So it was an occasion.”
“I’ll bet you could jump horses in equestrian competition by the time you were twelve.”
She laughed. “Yes.”
“I’ll bet you could tell me the difference between champagne powder in the Rockies and the kind of snow they get on the slopes in Lucerne.”
She nodded. “That’s right.”
He looked over at her. “The world is full of millions of people who have tee shirts and crap from Disneyworld who would give anything for those experiences.”
She took in a deep breath and turned to look out the window. Brandon wasn’t just a centerfold in the flesh. He was a good guy. A kind person who went out of his way to make her feel good about herself. She hoped they’d be friends after she was no longer a job. Aside from the whole sexually-off-limits thing, he was special.
“When this is over,” he said, “what are you hoping for? More than anything else?”
She was quiet for a few seconds before quietly saying, “To never be afraid again.”
His heart clenched like a vise in his chest. By God, that’s what he wanted for her, too.
They bought tickets at the visitors’ center and were directed to parking.
Brandon had to admit it was a thing worth doing. It was bright as the full moon on new snow, but warm enough to be comfortable without a jacket. Some people were even wearing shorts. Although the sand reflected the light, the darkness in between gave the people some anonymity. Enough that he could relax.
He kept a watchful eye, but felt they were at least as safe as they’d been stopping for dinner in town. Maybe more.
Motel kid was right. The sand was soft enough to reshape itself around any butt pressed against it. As for the music, he’d never tell Cami, but he was gradually accepting that some of it wasn’t that bad.
Every now and then, he would forget what he was supposed to be doing and fall into the spell of a magical evening. Sitting next to a spikey-haired blond e on the white sands of an ex-missile testing site, listening to country music under a full moon seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
For the second day in a row, he woke facing a motel door with a warm and pliant body plastered to his back like she’d been superglued. Feeling her braless breasts crushed against him had his hand reaching down to brush morning wood. It wouldn’t take much to get him off, but he didn’t really want to take the risk. In his head he ran through the humiliation of having to explain. “Oh, sorry, did my jerking off wake you?”
He eased out of bed, went to the window, and pulled the curtain back far enough to check the parking lot. It was still dark, but would be light soon. Everything looked quiet.
He’d checked the map before going to bed and settled on a route. He figured there was less mountain driving if they went south toward El Paso, but cut west at 506 to head for Austin via Carlsbad, long before they came anywhere near the interstate. There was sparse population out there, which made it safer for Cami. He figured they could make it to Austin in ten hours.
He felt a little surge of excitement about getting home and about getting Cami home safely. But in order to make that happen, he had to get her up.
Grabbing his pillow, he threw it at her head, but maybe not quite as forcefully as the first time.
“Rise and shine,” he said, scratching his balls on the way to the bathroom.
Her only answer was a groan.
“You can have the shower in three minutes if you want it. We’re out of here in fifteen.”
She sat up looking tousled, sleepy, and… adorable, until she started yelling. “Fifteen minutes! I can’t shower and get ready to go in fifteen minutes. Even suggesting that is barbaric.”
“One person’s barbarian is another person’s bodyguard.”
“Witty, Brandon. Comedians are supposed to come out at night.”
“Two minutes.”
“Ugh!”
While she was in the shower, Brandon called his dad to check in and let him know the situation.
“We’ll be there by dinner so you need to have a place ready for Ms. Carmichael.”
“Ms. Carmichael? Jesus, Brand. You haven’t let the girl out of arm’s reach for two days and you’re not on a first name basis?” The pause spoke volumes to Brandon
’s dad. “Jesus Christ, Brandon. Did I really need to say that clients’ daughters are off limits?”
“I haven’t touched her.”
“Okay then. My bad. Read that wrong, I guess.”
Edge emerged from his room at the club. He walked by Brant’s office on his way to the kitchen to get breakfast. Brash was leaning against the door jamb.
“They left Alamagordo. He says they’ll be back tonight by supper. They’re headed toward El Paso, but cutting off at 506 to Carlsbad.”
“That’s close to…”
“Yeah,” Brant said. “I’ll breathe a lot easier once we get your brother back here. I’ve been uneasy about giving him this job. I love him, but he’s a paper pusher. Not ex special ops.”
“Maybe not, but he’s resourceful. It’s in his blood.”
“Not a time for self-congratulations, Brash. I haven’t slept a wink. Haven’t told your mother either. I don’t like hiding things from her, but I suspect I’d get an earful if she knew what he was doing.”
Edge eased behind Brash so quietly he never knew he was there.
“We have to go to the McDonalds for breakfast and get those things you told me about!”
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
“No. Why?”
“Because, if you don’t have to go to the bathroom, we’re going to use the drive through.”
“Drive through,” she repeated, sounding inappropriately excited. “Wait. Pull over and let me drive. If we’re going to do drive through, I want to drive.”
He glanced at her incredulously. “You’ve never been through drive through.”
She shook her head.
“Okay. We might as well top off the tank.”
He pulled into a gas station close to McDonalds. “While we’re here, I might as well go to the bathroom and restock our snack supply.”
Brandon opened his mouth to say something about doing a one eighty on restroom usage, but thought better of it. Instead he went with, “Our snack supply? You’re a quick study, Rose. Alright, but wait until I’m done here.”
When he returned the nozzle to its holder and screwed the gas cap back on, Cami got out. After he checked it out, she used the toilet, whether she needed to or not, then gathered up bottled waters, bananas, nuts, and protein bars.
The Biker's Brother (Sons of Sanctuary MC Book 2) Page 11
