“Get juice to have with breakfast in the car.”
Back in the car, she was excited about her first drive through experience and excited to be the driver driving through the drive through.
“Just ease up to that lighted sign. There’s a speaker for talking to the people inside.”
When she was in position, a voice said, “Ready for breakfast when you are.”
She looked at Brandon and mouthed, “What do I say?”
He chuckled. “Three Egg McMuffins.” She repeated that. “Two hashbrowns.” She repeated that.
“Drive to the first window.”
She grinned at Brandon before pulling up to the first window. He handed her some bills, which she passed on to the lady waiting for payment.
“Put the change in the box,” Brandon said.
“The box?”
“Yeah. That plastic thing under the window.”
She read the box. “A charitable bodyguard.”
“Don’t go thinking I’m soft, Rose. I’m passing that on to your dad.”
She drew in a big breath and nodded.
Once they were out of town, on the road again, Brandon peeled the paper away from her round sandwich and handed it to her.
“You want cranberry juice?”
“Yes.”
He fished the cranberry out of the convenience store sack, opened it, and set it in the drink holder next to her right arm. It was a thoughtful thing to do. She tried to remember if Trey had ever been thoughtful like that, even before they were married, when he was actually trying to impress her. Maybe he had. So much had happened since then it was hard to remember.
“Well, what do you think?” Brandon asked with his mouth full.
She smiled while chewing, glanced his way, and nodded. When she swallowed, she said, “Yeah. Good. That’s three new experiences this morning.”
“Okay. There’s the drive through.”
“Yes.”
“And the McMuffin.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the third?”
“The third is a secret.”
“Come on.”
“Lips are sealed.”
“Two can play that game. I had an experience this morning I’ve never had before, too.”
“What?”
“Not telling,” he said as he took a bite of hash browns.
“You’re lying.”
“Definitely not lying.”
“That’s not fair.”
He laughed. “It’s so fair the goddess Justice is grinning ear to ear.”
She huffed. “Still not telling.”
“Fine with me, but I’ll just say this. Fantasizing about gay guys is futile.”
He switched on the radio and located a rock station.
“Nobody said my third new experience had anything to do with you, Brandon! And I’m driving so I should get to choose the music.”
He laughed at her again. “You think you should get to choose the music when it’s your turn to drive and when it’s my turn to drive. You’re a radio hog. Plus, you lost a turn because of last night.”
She gaped. “Last night?”
“I listened to two hours of country music.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It does.” He turned the volume up louder and sat back looking satisfied and smug.
Half an hour south of Alamagordo, on a stretch of road with no cars in sight, Brandon was singing along to some Pulled Pork song at the top of his lungs when Cami reached over and turned off the radio.
He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped.
“Is that a helicopter?” she asked.
Brand could hear it above, way too close, but couldn’t see it, which meant it had to be directly overhead and keeping pace with the car.
“Yeah, it is,” he said. A quick glance at Cami told him she was terrified. “Don’t be scared, Rose. We’ve got this covered.”
She looked over at him and nodded, but didn’t look any less frightened.
He pulled the burner phone out of his vest pocket and punched in his dad’s other phone number. The one used for security communications on this one job. The one that was supposed to become obsolete within a few hours.
“What’s wrong?” Brant answered.
“We’re thirty miles south of Alamagordo and we’ve got a helicopter trying to land on the roof of the car.”
“Keep going and don’t stop. I’ll get you some back up, but it may take twenty minutes.”
“What do you mean?”
“That car is capable of everything a car can do. Try to drive your way out of this. If you can’t, if that thing tries to land close to you, shoot the gas tank and get the hell away.”
Brandon swallowed, his mind racing. “Okay.”
“Keep the phone handy.”
“Okay.”
The call went dead.
There was just one problem. He couldn’t ‘drive his way out of it’ because Cami was behind the wheel. And they couldn’t exactly stop on the side of the road and change drivers. He’d been an idiot agreeing to let her behind the wheel and now they were going to pay for that mistake.
Brandon tried to remember if he’d ever felt fear before. Maybe he had, but nothing like the needle pricks of adrenaline running through his system. His molars pressed against each other as he grappled with getting his emotions under control and he realized, like a lightning bolt epiphany, that his fear was for Cami’s safety, not his own.
He steadied his voice before he spoke.
“Help is coming. We just have to keep driving.”
“Help? What kind of help?”
“Back up. That’s all I know, but I trust my old man.”
“Your old man? You mean your father?”
“Yes. He owns Sanctuary Security.”
“Oh.”
“Just keep driving. Don’t speed up. Don’t slow down.”
She nodded a little too fast and he knew, without checking her pulse, that her heart was pounding.
“If they get me…”
“They’re not going to get you, Rose.”
Brandon unbuckled his seat belt and hauled the duffel with the weapons to the floor board behind them and unzipped it. He set two pistols in the drink holder console after checking to make sure they were loaded. He hadn’t brought a rifle. When choosing what weapons might be needed on this sort of assignment, shooting the gas tank of a helicopter wasn’t a scenario that had come to mind.
He pulled out the Smith and Wesson 657 Varminter six shooter. It was made for prairie dogs and their kin, but it was the closest thing to ideal in his bag of goodies.
The Varminter had a red dot optic for closer range, which meant that even if fear had him at a disadvantage, he’d know where his shot was going before he fired. If the target exceeded the optic range, there was also a Bushnell Scope that could get him accuracy up to a hundred yards. Either way, he wasn’t going to be able to set up a tripod and take his time like he was a weekend enthusiast at the gun range.
Brandon had loaded the sixth bullet when the helicopter swooped down in front of the car. He heard Cami’s sharp intake of breath, but she didn’t shriek or scream or react like women in the movies. She shook from trembling, but managed to keep her hands steady on the wheel as she jerked the vehicle to the left. A lot of vehicles would have responded to that maneuver by rolling off into the ditch, but the Hyundai kept all four tires on the road.
“Good girl. Don’t worry, Rose. You’re not going with them. No matter what.”
She glanced over at Brandon as if to try to discern the honesty of that pronouncement. Her brows were drawn together and her hands were still shaking. She seemed to find the reassurance she was seeking in Brandon’s expression because, after that, she calmed. Visibly.
“No matter what,” she repeated.
The way she said that told Brandon that her years with Michaels had been even worse than she’d described.
The incident lasted no longer
than two seconds, but the copter made it clear that they were bored with keeping pace and eager to start a cat and mouse game. All of a sudden the deafening propeller noise faded.
An eighteen-wheeler was coming toward them on the other side of the road, about a mile away. Apparently whatever the occupants of the helicopter planned, they didn’t want witnesses. They did a fast ascent to keep from being identified.
He glanced at the map. They were only twenty-five minutes from the next town. If he could get them to a place with witnesses all around, they had a good chance of waiting out his pop’s ‘back up’, whatever that was. Brandon knew his father had resources. Hell. For all he knew the old man was going to scramble jet fighters and sick them on the copter that was at a distance but still audible.
“Pull over. Fast as you can without killing us. And trade places with me.”
She hit the brakes, shoved the car into park, and was out running around in less than a minute. Brandon had to admire the efficiency with which she executed his request.
Brandon was going nearly eighty miles per hour by the time he was fastening his seat belt. When the truck was out of sight, they heard the noise of the rotating helicopter blades getting louder. Brandon was pushing the car toward one twenty, but it was a straight flat stretch of road, safer than any race track. Still, Cami’s knuckles were white where she was holding on.
The helicopter made a sudden dip. Brandon stomped on the brakes which caused the car to burn rubber and fish tail. Cami let out a small sound, but Brand could hardly hold that against her. Under the circumstances she was practically cool and composed.
The pilot and the guy next to him were close enough that Brandon and Cami could see their faces.
“Hold on,” he said, before slamming the car into reverse and executing an inverted three point turn.
For a brief time they were headed the other direction. As fast as they were going, they caught up with the eighteen wheeler they’d passed. They rode his tail for ten minutes until he slowed and turned off at a ranch.
“Christ. Just our luck. It’s a cattle truck.”
Since the helicopter was out of sight and audibly absent as well, Brandon made a U turn so that they were heading south again. He was still spooked enough to want to get to civilization fast so he put the accelerator to the floor.
Why had he thought sparse population was such a great idea? What they needed was witnesses. Lots of them. And all they had was a mesa with grama grass, cactus, and a nice view of mountains in the distance.
They’d been speeding south for ten minutes. Just before hearing the helicopter, Brandon had been starting to feel hopeful that their pursuers had given it up. The copter practically dove at them.
Brandon had to pull a hard right to keep from running into them and, though the people in the helicopter might have been ready to commit hara-kiri, he was not. He’d just figured out that he had a lot to live for.
It looked like he’d successfully avoided the copter, but a rear tire caught loose gravel and sent the car rolling so that it was upside down. They were both hanging from seatbelts.
“You okay?” he asked her.
“Brandon. Don’t let them…”
He fought with the buckle holding him prisoner until it gave way and dropped him on his head. He was trying to lay hands on one of the guns, when he heard a man’s voice yell, “You want her out of there?”
“No! This couldn’t have worked out better. Just set fire to the car and we’re done. Perfect accident.”
Cami heard it, too. Her gaze found Brandon’s and held on like she was saying goodbye. And something else.
Their eyes were thus locked together when they heard the sound of salvation. A roar mightier than a dozen whirling rotary blades.
Engines were shut off by the time Brandon finally laid hand on one of the pistols. He pushed the door open and crawled out to find twenty guys wearing colors, holding guns on the three guys who were in the helicopter. One of the new arrivals, with gray-streaked black hair, walked over, reached inside the helicopter, and cut the engine like he knew what he was doing.
“You all right?” he asked Brandon. Brand nodded as his eyes flicked to the PRESIDENT patch on the man’s cut. “Your pop sent us to make sure you found your way out of this fix. Go way back, your dad and me. Name’s Axel.”
“I need to get…”
“Ow!”
Axel grinned in an engaging way that would never suggest his men were disarming the three guys at gunpoint and forcing them to their knees, execution style, which seemed kind of risky since it was a public highway in bright morning sunlight. “Sounds like she figured out how to get loose herself.”
There were a few quiet chuckles in response to the president’s observation.
Brand looked around. They were wearing Dust Devils patches. Since Brandon hadn’t grown up in club life, he had no idea who was who in terms of Texas motorcycle clubs.
Cami made her way around to Brandon’s side. He looked down at her and it was all he could do not to put his arm around her and drag her into his side to show her and everybody else that she was protected. And his.
Axel waved to a couple of guys. “Get their stuff outta that car. We need to get outta here.” To Brand he said, “What do you want to do with them?”
“You got a ride for us?”
Axel looked over just as four men had rocked the Hyundai back upright. One of them got in and turned the ignition. The V8 came to life. The guy in the driver’s seat said, “We got action.”
“Charlie. Drive that thing back. Brandon and his lady’ll take your ride.” He looked down at Cami. “Assumin’ she’s ridin’ with you?”
Brand leveled a look at Axel. “Yeah. She’s with me.” He looked over at the guys on their knees. “Wait here,” he told Cami. He walked over to the car and hunted around until he found the Varminter then walked back to Axel. “Go ahead and take off with the car. The helicopter won’t be following today.”
Axel took his meaning and nodded.
Brandon walked over to Charlie’s ride and swung a leg over. He motioned for Cami, but she shook her head no. “No? What do you mean no?”
“I mean no. I’m not getting on that thing. They scare me.”
There was a chorus of guffaws at that as Dust Devils mounted their bikes one by one.
“After what you’ve just been through, riding on a motorcycle scares you?” She nodded, looking small, vulnerable, and a little lost. “You know how we’re working on never being scared again?” She didn’t respond, but simply watched him like he held the key to all wisdom. He reached out, encircled her wrist with one big hand, and gently pulled her toward him. “We’re working on it together. But we have to meet the fear halfway.”
For a second she thought she saw something in the way he was looking at her, something that looked a lot like desire. A woman knows when a man is about to grab her and kiss her senseless. That was exactly what her heart and her body were telling her, but her brain was reminding her that it couldn’t be that.
Probably wishful thinking.
He watched her take in a big breath that made her chest heave just before she got on behind him. It wasn’t a small thing. Her actions were saying that she trusted him with her life.
Brandon fired up Charlie’s bike and trained the long barrel of the Smith and Wesson on the three guys still on their knees. When Charlie pulled away, Brandon said, “I strongly suggest you guys start running unless you want to be the gooey part of s’mores.” The three of them looked at each other for less than a heartbeat before they got to their feet and started running away from the road. “Tell Michaels if he comes for this woman again, he’s going to be hunted by the Sons of Sanctuary,” he shouted.
He turned the bike around in the road and went fifty yards before he stopped, used his forearm to steady the Varminter, and fired. He hit the gas tank in one shot and the explosion was probably heard for miles.
Cami was holding on to Brand tight as they flew down t
he road and fell in with the Dust Devils. Since she’d spent the past two nights plastered to his back, being pressed against Brandon was as familiar as his smell and the feel of his hard body. She rested her cheek against a shoulder blade and sighed, believing that the worst was over.
They followed the Dust Devils to a complex just east of El Paso where there wasn’t much to speak of except… dust. There were several buildings including a large warehouse. The doors opened almost by magic as they approached. Brandon backed Charlie’s bike into the line by the south wall and shut it down.
The two prospects at the bay doors didn’t close them until the Hyundai was inside followed by one other biker.
He was a big redheaded guy, in his early forties maybe. He walked over to where Axel was dismounting. Axel grinned and clasped his hand in a gesture of greeting and affection. They exchanged a few words and then the guy turned and grinned at Brand. The interesting thing about him, at least one of the interesting things, was that he was wearing SSMC colors. Except the bottom rocker didn’t say Austin, Texas. It said NOMAD.
He walked over and offered his hand to Brandon. “Cannon Johns,” he said simply.
Axel ended the phone call he was on and sauntered over wearing a grin that revealed the good looks of somebody who’d more than likely been a player in his day.
“Yeah, he’s one of yours, but he’s a friend to Dust Devils.”
“I see that,” Brand said.
“Just got off the phone with Brant. We have a plan. Come on over to the house and we’ll talk about it.”
CHAPTER Eleven
Texas
“What’s that?” Edge said as he slid onto a bar stool at the SSMC.
Rita shrugged. Some kind of crash.
The big screen TV over the bar was on the news. Apparently a helicopter had gone down somewhere near the Texas-New Mexico border, but there was no sign of passengers. Local firefighters put out the blaze.
A truck driver was being interviewed. “Yeah. I saw the smoke a long time before I could make out what it was. Strangest thing. It looks like it crashed right here on the highway and exploded or something, but there was nobody around.”
Edge caught the look that passed between Brash and Brant. “Give me a beer,” he said.
The Biker's Brother (Sons of Sanctuary MC Book 2) Page 12
