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

by Victoria Danann

  Rita opened a long neck wordlessly and pushed it over.

  Edge took the brew and walked down the hall to his room. He closed and locked the door before opening his third dresser drawer to look for a designated phone under socks and boxers.

  A simple text message was waiting.

  Call.

  Cannon Johns, Brandon, Cami, and Axel sat around Axel’s kitchen table while his wife rushed around whipping up some tacos.

  “Your pop says you were planning on getting back tonight.” Brandon nodded. “Could be that’s still gonna happen. Here’s the plan.”

  “That may be the best food I’ve ever eaten,” Cami told Axel’s wife, Marguerite, who flushed with pleasure. “I mean, ever.”

  “Glad you liked it,” she said, as she took the rest of the plates away.

  Axel pulled his phone out of his pants and said, “Yeah?”

  He listened and made a couple of ‘hmm’ responses, then said, “Okay,” and shut his phone. He looked around the table. “Just make yourself at home and relax. Watch TV. Help yourself to the refrigerator. If you want to nap, or whatever, Marguerite will show you to the guest room. I’ll be back to get you when it gets dark.”

  When Brandon turned on the TV and sprawled out on the couch, Cami nestled in beside him like she needed the comfort of his nearness. And nothing could have pleased him more. He was becoming addicted to having the woman close by.

  Knowing they were safe and that he could relax fully, Brandon was asleep within fifteen minutes. He slept all afternoon in that position, half sitting, half lying back.

  Axel came through the kitchen door and stomped his boots. When he appeared in the living room, Cami nudged Brandon awake.

  “He’s back,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

  Brandon sat up, scrubbed a palm down his face and looked over at Axel.

  “You ready?”

  “I don’t know,” Brand said. “We haven’t heard the plan.”

  “Come on. I’ll tell you while we walk over to the warehouse.” He gave Marguerite a kiss that was borderline embarrassing.

  “Hey,” Johns said. “Let’s get this done then you two can get a room.”

  Axel slapped her on the fanny and walked away chuckling. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

  On the way over to the warehouse, Axel shared the details. “My boys have been out renting some vans while your pop was making the other travel arrangements. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Ten minutes later Brand, Cami, and luggage were in a black van being driven by Cannon Johns. There were three other identical black vans being driven by other club members that left at the same time. At the first major crossroads, the four vans went four different directions.

  Brandon was in the front passenger seat. He asked Johns, “Have you been to this place before?”

  “I’ve been nearby. Don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding it.”

  “So. What does the NOMAD patch mean?”

  “Means I’ve got one more job to do and then I’m comin’ home. To stay.”

  “Home is?”

  “Austin. God’s country. At least it used to be before the roads turned into parking lots that look like L.A. at rush hour.” He sighed and shrugged. “Can’t change where you’re from.”

  Brand thought about where he was from. New York. The “get a rope” TV commercial came to mind.

  “Yeah. Can’t be helped,” he agreed.

  They’d been headed west for a while, but turned north onto a dirt road outside Cornudas and drove for another couple of miles.

  “Think you’re in the clear,” Johns said. “If anybody was following, we’d see their lights.”

  Brandon nodded as they turned into a ramshackle house with a hangar in the back. They kept going past the house and stopped at the hangar.

  “Your pop says he bought a single engine barnstormer for cheap. You sure you can fly it home?”

  “I got my pilot’s license when I was fourteen. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Cami looked at him with surprise, but said nothing.

  The owner, who had apparently seen them coming, slid open the hangar doors. The building was brightly lit inside.

  Brandon walked around the plane inside then said, “What the hell is this?”

  “This, my friend, is a 1969 super AG-CAT.” He said it as proudly as if he was a new papa.

  “This thing belongs in a museum.”

  The owner bristled at the offense. “She’ll get you to the capitol of the Lone Star State and she’ll do it with no stops and a full two hundred fifty miles to spare.”

  “Jesus,” said Brand, but he took a good look around, performing his own version of flight check and maintenance.

  He concluded that, as unsafe as it appeared on first look, it was sound enough to get them home. Like the guy said, it was a fairly short flight.

  “What crops are you dusting around here anyway?” Brandon asked.

  “Bought this property to retire on. My wife speaks Mexican and likes it over here. But I weren’t ready to give her up. Got a good price though. It’s time. She’s all yours.”

  “I don’t suppose you have a lighted runway?”

  The man made sounds that were a mix of laughter and coughing. “I got flat ground.” He pointed with his whole hand. “Go due east. Don’t deviate. Get her up before fifteen hundred feet.”

  “Jesus.”

  The man shook his head. “You got a limited vocabulary, boy.”

  Brandon looked at Cami. He’d feel a lot better if the thing had two engines, but he suspected the old guy was right. The plane was in good enough shape.

  “I’ll ship your luggage to the clubhouse,” Johns said.

  Brandon nodded and looked at Cami. “Pull out enough stuff for overnight. Just what’ll fit in your lap.”

  Cami didn’t say anything, but looked at him with baleful eyes like she wanted to cling to the only things that were familiar to her. She held his stare for a couple of seconds before turning away to make decisions about what to take and what she hoped she’d see later.

  Brandon got her up into the seat behind the pilot. He went over the flight plan. Luckily he knew where the little airport was. It was only twenty minutes from the clubhouse. It was actually a flying school, but they had a runway they could light for training purposes.

  “You good?”

  Cami nodded. He could see that she was far from good, but in less than two hours, the hardest part of this would be over. At least that was the plan.

  They pointed the plane due east before starting the engine.

  Cannon Johns stood in the darkness and watched the plane’s tail lights gradually rise into the air and then disappear.

  “Well. That’s that,” said the former owner of a vintage plane.

  “Guess so,” said Johns.

  With that he got into the black van and drove away.

  CHAPTER Twelve

  Austin, Texas

  Once they were in the air, Cami realized that she wouldn’t take anything for the experience of flying close to the ground in an old barnstorming plane on a moonlit night. It was wonderful, magical, and the random thought flitted across her mind that, if she died right then, she’d die happy. With only one regret. She would have loved to kiss Brandon on the mouth and know how it felt, even if he wouldn’t be into it.

  After the first hour the little towns they flew over came closer and closer together. She didn’t know their names and couldn’t imagine what they looked like in the daytime, but the twinkling lights looked welcoming at that altitude at that time of night. They didn’t fly over any big towns and didn’t see any other flying objects, identifiable or not.

  When she realized that they were in a controlled descent, she wasn’t welcoming the end of a very special ride. As the ground got closer and closer, she

  asked herself when would she ever fly across West Texas on a clear, warm night again with Brandon as her pilot and protector?
The answer, which was never, made her sad.

  When they landed at Bee Caves Flying School, there were three Sheriff’s Department vehicles waiting for them. Cami threw her overnight bag to Brandon before accepting his help to get down.

  Brandon pulled out his phone before going further and called Brant. “We’re here.”

  “Good to know. See you soon.”

  They walked over to meet the guy who’d emerged from the hangar. “Tom Maker,” he said. “Your car’s ready and waiting.” He pointed at the car parked a few steps away and handed Brand the keys.

  “Thanks,” Brandon said. “We appreciate it. I guess my dad owns this plane.”

  Tom laughed. “I’ve got to hand it to you. It took balls to fly that contraption.”

  “Don’t scare the lady,” Brand said.

  “That doesn’t scare me,” Cami said. “I knew I was safe with him.”

  Brand’s chest filled with emotion when he heard that and he knew the instant the words left her mouth that he wanted to always be that guy. The one she knew she was safe with.

  “Turns out you were right,” Tom said. “We’ll sort out what to do with the plane. The Smithsonian maybe.”

  Brand smiled, put his arm around Cami in a possessive and heterosexual way, and guided her to the car.

  It was a quarter mile to the gate of the flying school. When they got there, they found three Sheriff’s Department vehicles blocking the exit.

  One of the deputies walked over to the driver’s side window. When Brandon rolled it down he said, “You Brand?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, seems like your daddy’s concerned about your safety.” He leaned down and tipped his hat to Cami. Eyes moving back to Brandon, he said, “When your daddy’s concerned, my boss is concerned. So we’re going to tag along and make sure you make it home without incident. I’m all about keeping the roads free of incidents. So we’re going to give you a nice quiet inconspicuous escort home.”

  “Much obliged.” It was a phrase Brandon had picked up after moving to Texas, a thing men said to each other that conveyed both thanks and respect. “Didn’t catch your name.”

  The deputy smiled. “Names are for drinkin’ buddies.” He slapped the hood of the car and walked off toward his patrol SUV.

  They followed the deputy and were followed by an additional two cars. When they reached the gates of the SSMC, they waited until Brandon and Cami were inside and then disappeared into the night.

  One of the prospects closed the compound gates behind them.

  “So this is where you live?” Cami asked.

  “No. I have a place in town. A couple of the guys live here. Most have their own homes.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t confronted the possibility that she would be saying goodbye to Brandon when they reached the compound, and wasn’t ready. “You’re not staying here?”

  He heard the anxiety in her voice. “You’re as safe here as you would be if you were in a Fort Knox bunker.”

  Noting that he didn’t answer the question, she looked at the buildings lit by outdoor halogens on poles. “I know, but I’m, um, used to you.”

  Brand opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, somebody opened the driver’s side door.

  “You gonna sit out here all night?”

  It was Carlot. Brand got a half hug and slap on the back when he got out of the car. “Your pop has been a bear with a bee hive up his ass while you’ve been gone. We’re all glad to see this over.” He looked at Cami, who had gotten out of the car and was gripping her overnight bag in front of her like it was a lifesaver. “You did good.”

  It was Carlot’s way of letting Brand know that he’d gotten what he wanted out of the gig. Respect from the club members.

  “Thanks.” He walked around to Cami and took her bag. “Carlot, this is Ro… This is Camden Carmichael.” He put his arm around Cami again, something that was becoming a habit, and gave her a little squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get you settled.”

  Carlot held open the door and they stepped inside the clubhouse. It was on the quiet side. Apparently Brant had read everybody the riot act about not scaring the client’s daughter.

  The big screen TV was on above the bar. Three club members sat on stools with long necks. They looked Cami over and nodded at Brandon.

  Brant emerged from the hallway that led to his office with a big grin on his face. When he reached them, he nodded at Brandon and held his hand out to Cami.

  “Ms. Carmichael, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Thank you,” she said politely, shaking his hand.

  “This is my dad,” Brand said.

  “I could tell,” she replied. “There’s a definite resemblance.”

  Brand nodded. “Y’all hungry?”

  “Yes. We haven’t had dinner. I hope you’ve got something green. She likes tofu, hummus, wheat germ…”

  After looking at Cami like she had a terminal illness, Brant said, “We can manage green salad.”

  “Stop it.” Brant’s eyes tracked Cami playfully slapping Brandon’s arm. “Whatever you have is fine, I’m learning to appreciate the pleasures of poison.”

  “No doubt.” Brant gave Brandon a reprimanding look about the affectionate familiarity the client’s daughter was showing him.

  Knowing what that look was about, Brandon just shrugged and smiled at his father. It was a silent challenge that said, “Some things are none of your business, old man.”

  “She’s in Brigid’s old room,” Brant said.

  “Okay. Meet you in the kitchen in a minute.” Brandon tugged Cami in the direction of the sleeping quarters. When they reached the last door on the right, he said, “This is you. For the next few days.”

  That answered the question about whether or not he was staying. She wasn’t going to beg or fall into a puddle. She was going to put a big girl smile on her face and let him go. After all, what other outcome could there have been? Since the moment she laid eyes on him, they’d been moving toward the day, hour, and minute when they would be permanently parted.

  “It’s not the Sherry Netherland, but you’ll be safe.”

  She set her bag down on the bed. “And warm and dry.”

  She looked over at him in a way that asked if the past three days had meant anything to him. “And warm and dry.” He repeated it quietly in a way that didn’t reveal anything about his feelings. She was left with the impression that she could mean nothing to him or everything. “I’m going to my place tonight. After dinner. I’ve got stuff to catch up on. But I’ll be back tomorrow and, if you need to talk to me, just ask anybody to get me on the phone.”

  Nodding, she wrapped her arms around her waist and walked toward where he stood in the doorway. “Okay.”

  “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved.”

  The kitchen was standing room only as everybody wanted to hear the blow-by-blow account of what happened with the helicopter and the Dust Devils. People watched Brandon and Cami eat leftover Shepherd’s Pie and salad while he told the tale.

  Cami smiled at the whoops and hollers that went up when Brandon described shooting the gas tank.

  He looked at her. “We felt the heat of the blast as we were hightailing it away. Didn’t we? Just like in the movies.”

  She smiled. “Me more than you. Your back was being sheltered by me.”

  Everybody laughed at that and Cami was starting to feel less anxious about the strange surroundings.

  “This big redheaded son of a bitch named Cannon Johns was wearing a Sons NOMAD patch. He’s the one who drove us to that deathtrap you bought for us to fly home in. Said he’s coming home after one more job.”

  “We’ll be glad to get him back,” Brant said. “And that plane wasn’t a death trap. The former owner and I go way, way back. He would not let my kid get into a plane that wasn’t safe. Just because something’s old doesn’t mean it’s not serviceable.”

  “Feeling sensitive about your age, Prez?” said Rock.

&
nbsp; “Fuck off,” said Brant.

  After dinner, Brand turned to his pop and said, “Where’s Brash?”

  “He’s ironing out that deal with the McIlhaneys. Oh, and by the way, I didn’t tell your mother anything about this, um, job.”

  Brand lifted an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you want me to keep quiet?”

  Brant lowered his chin and scowled. “You know damn well that’s what I’m saying.”

  “Sorry. But I’m not in the habit of keeping things from my mother.” Brandon smiled in the most irritating way possible. “What’s in it for me?”

  “The first thing club members have to learn is how to keep their mouths shut.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So what’s in it for you is a patch.” Brant couldn’t help his grin when he saw emotion move over Brandon’s face. “Voted you in today.” Brant slapped him on the shoulder with a big paw and rocked him back and forth a little. “Tomorrow’s Friday. We’ll have a pig roast tomorrow night to celebrate. Everybody’ll be here.”

  Brand swallowed hard. He hadn’t realized exactly how much he wanted that until it was in his grip. “That’s…”

  It was just as well that Rescue interrupted him because he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

  “She like dogs?” Rescue said and Brandon deduced that he was talking about Cami.

  “I don’t know.” He started to ask why, but then realized where the question was coming from. “Let’s find out.”

  “Cam?” She was talking to one of the wives, but turned to Brand’s voice. “Do you like dogs?”

  Confusion registered on her face. “Of course. What kind of person doesn’t like dogs?”

  “A bad sort,” Rescue confirmed with complete conviction.

  “The reason he’s asking is because one of the club’s interests is in canine security. Rescue trains dogs to take care of people. If it would be okay to leave one of the dogs with you tonight, it would be an extra measure of security.”

  The idea was instantly appealing.

  “If you’re sure the dog won’t suddenly decide that I’m the bad sort of person in the middle of the night.”