“He’s dead?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Brandon said, failing to give a shit. “But you’re not.”
At that moment he decided there was only one thing in the universe worth having.
It wasn’t money.
It wasn’t the respect of the SSMC.
It wasn’t the thrill he got from riding a Harley Davidson on Bee Caves Road at three o’clock in the morning on a warm Austin night.
It was the woman staring at him like she felt the exact same goddamned way.
In one fluid movement Brandon tore off his brand new cut and the Henley under it, exposing the body Cami had once called godlike. Wordlessly, she welcomed him into the cradle of her body, encircling him with arms and legs as he lowered himself over her and gave her the kiss she somehow knew she’d been waiting for.
For all her life.
They were both aware that there was a corpse on the floor by the bed and that its blood was pressed between them, mingling with their own fluids, but neither one cared. Both were focused on making love as if their lives depended on it.
Brandon pulled Brigid’s cashmere dress off Cami and threw it toward the foot of the bed. He’d been dying to touch her perfect tits since the night she’d put them on display, thinking he was ‘one of the girls’. He licked her nipples through her lace bra. Part of him wanted to take his time and enjoy getting to know her body, but the dominant part was feeling frantic about needing to be inside her.
It was evident that she was feeling the same way because she was pulling at his belt buckle, trying to get his pants down. He got up on his knees, unbuckled, unzipped, and shoved his pants down in a hurry, allowing his erection to spring free and bounce enticingly.
She moaned in response.
Taking that as an invitation he ripped the little matching lace panties away from her body and shoved into her in an athletic thrust that made her cry out, to the extent possible with her hoarse voice. He knew she was dripping wet and didn’t think he’d hurt her. So he kept going.
Hoping she understood that what was happening between them was, in his mind, a claiming fuck of epic magnitude. From that moment, regardless of courts or clerics or family or anything else under the sun, she was his.
And nothing was going to change that.
Ever.
Judging by the way she grabbed onto him and chanted his name, he was guessing she did understand.
He adjusted the tilt of her pelvis so that he was coming in contact with her clit every time he plunged in and out. Her reaction was nothing less than spectacular. He was vowing to remember that position so that he could experience what he was witnessing over and over and over.
When she came, he exploded and thought he might have actually seen stars, which he’d previously thought was a stupid trope in romantic comedies. It turned out that stars are possible, under the right circumstances.
A dead body.
And the woman you’d kill for.
When he collapsed he rolled them onto their sides. He was still in her, lying on top of one of her thighs.
“Jesus, Rose.”
“It’s Cami.” After her breathing began to even out, she said, “You saved my life again.”
The only response he could make to that was to pull her into another kiss, to remind himself that she was very much alive.
When he pulled back, he said quietly, “I killed Edge.”
“I know.”
“And I’m not sorry.”
“Neither am I. Are you sorry about the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“We just did it raw.” He looked confused. “And I’m not on birth control?”
“You’re not on birth control?”
“No. I didn’t have any reason to be. I haven’t been, um, sexually active for over a year.”
“A year?” He sounded so incredulous that it made her feel a little embarrassed. She didn’t know why. “A year,” he repeated as if he was still trying to process that. She nodded slightly, looking away. Seeming to reach a conclusion, he said, “Your divorce is final.”
“I know.”
“That means you can marry me.”
“Marry you? Brandon, we…”
“Love each other. Right?”
She searched his eyes. “Yes. We love each other.”
“I have the means to take care of a wife and child.”
The entire situation was so absurd that she started giggling.
“Brandon, you killed that man. You’ve still got his blood on you.”
He looked down. “Some of it’s on you, too.” He grinned.
She went on, “The body is right next to us. And you’re talking about marriage and babies?”
“Yes. I’m glad to see you’ve been following along. By the way,” he said as his penis went soft and slipped out, “that was…”
“Spectacular.” The very word he’d used to describe it. “What are we going to do about…?”
“In a minute, when I feel like I can let go of you, we’re going to get cleaned up and… Wait a minute. Why was Edge…?”
Brandon’s mind began racing.
“I had drifted off, which is why I didn’t hear him come in. That and the music, I guess. He said that Trey had sent a message for me.”
“What?”
“That it isn’t about the money.”
Brandon rolled onto his back and clenched his teeth. “He bought off a member of the club. To kill you. Not even for money. Just to be a vindictive asshole of the most evil sort.”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
He turned back toward her. “Like I said, we’re going to get cleaned up.” He looked at his watch. “Then I’m going to get my dad and my brother in here and we’re going to decide what to do. As a family. But tonight you’re coming home with me.”
“Okay.”
They got in the shower and washed each other off between long slow kisses and the casual exploration of each other’s bodies. Then towel dried.
Cami had found that one good thing about her closely cropped hair was that it dried almost instantly after a few passes of a towel.
“You can’t put those clothes back on,” she said.
“This used to be Brash’s room. I’m betting there’s something still in here.”
He walked out and opened the closet. Sure enough. A couple of pairs of jeans hung there along with three of his brother’s signature long-sleeve tees. He plucked the Rage Against the Machine shirt off a hangar and pulled it on.
When they were both clean and dressed, with slightly damp hair, but no mascara raccoon eyes and no blood, except for what remained on the front of Brandon’s cut, he said, “You’re coming with me. I’m not leaving you alone again tonight.”
She nodded, liking the sound of that plan very much.
CHAPTER Fourteen
“We’re having a party here, or hadn’t you noticed?” Brant grumbled.
“It can’t wait,” Brandon replied, keeping his arm firmly around Cami.
Brash walked up. “You wanted to… Hey. That’s my shirt.”
“I’ll get you a new one,” Brandon said. “We need both of you in Cami’s room.” There was something about the look on Brandon’s face when he added the word, “Now,” that put his father and brother on alert.
Brant gave an almost imperceptible nod. Brash raised his eyebrows just enough to signal that he was on the same page.
“We probably don’t want to form a parade,” Brandon said. “We’ll go on back. You come one at a time when you’re sure nobody is paying attention.”
Brant and Brash shared a glance and silent agreement.
Five minutes after Brandon and Cami had been back in the room, Brash knocked.
Cami looked at Brand.
“Let him in,” he said.
She opened the door enough to be sure it was Brant or Brash. It was Brash. She opened the door wider, got hold on his shirt, pulled him in quickly and closed the door.
It took only seconds for Brash to survey the situation.
“Good heavenly Christ, Brandon. What happened here? Is that Edge? Good God Almighty. Is he dead? He’s dead, isn’t he?” Brash accused his brother.
“Yeah,” Brandon said. “He’s dead because he was trying to kill Cami.”
Brash jerked his gaze to Cami who nodded solemnly.
All three of them turned at the sound of a knock on the door. Brash looked at his brother and the Carmichael girl then walked over and let Brant in.
“Alright, what’s so…?” Brant took in the scene. “Good God Almighty, boy. Did that used to be Edge?” Brant’s eyes went to Brandon’s knuckles that bore the telltale signs of abuse. “What in heaven’s name have you…?”
“Edge was trying to kill Cami,” Brash said.
“He was working for her ex. Trey Michaels.”
Brant gaped. “That’s not possible. He’s a member of this club. Been with us since he was a teenager.”
Brandon, Cami, and Brash stared at Brant, who seemed to be having trouble processing the idea that one of the club members could betray them.
“Before he shoved a pillow over Cami’s face he said he was working for Michaels.”
“Jesus,” Brant said, looking at the body then at Brandon. “Is that blood on your cut?”
“Yeah. It is. And I’m not cleaning it off.”
Brant sighed. “Your grandad would no doubt approve of your idea of breaking in a cut.”
“She’s coming home with me,” Brandon said.
“Is she now?” Brant asked, glancing at Cami.
“Yeah. She’s not safe here.” The challenge made Brant’s hackles rise, but he couldn’t argue with that when the girl they were supposed to be keeping safe had just come within a hair’s breadth of the grim reaper. “Apparently the sick fuck she was married to wasn’t only interested in her money. He wants her dead just because he can’t stand to think about her living outside his control.”
Cami looked at Brand like she was seeing him for the first time. She was astonished that he had that kind of insight into Trey’s psychology, just from pieces he’d put together.
“If that’s the case, you’re gonna need more help than just clean up.” He waved at the body. After glancing toward Cami, he turned back to Brand. “You think that apartment in the sky is easier to defend than this compound?”
“The best design in the world isn’t worth a damn if the people are rotten.”
Brandon had a point that felt like a razor in Brant’s craw, but his kid was right.
“I know you’re mad. You got every right to be. But believe it or not, there are seventeen guys standing behind you who are just as offended by this breach as you are, even though they don’t know about it yet. Maybe more so ‘cause we’ve known him for longer.
“I can understand you feeling like it’s not safe here. So take the woman and go to your place tonight. I’m gonna send four of the guys with you.”
“Where are you going to find four guys who aren’t drunk?” Brandon asked.
As much as Brant hated to admit it, the kid had a point. Again. They’d been getting sloppy, by club standards, in direct proportion to their conversion to law-abiding citizens. When this was over, Brant intended to give that some serious thought.
“You’re right. How about this? Stay here tonight. You can take my suite. I haven’t stayed in it for, well, not since I found out about you,” he said to Brandon. “Your brother and I aren’t drunk. We’ll take turns sitting at that spot at the bar with a view to the door to my suite. If anybody comes near that door, we’ll know it.”
Brand looked at Cami. She nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “What are we going to do about…?”
Brant waved him off. “I’ve still got some contacts from the wild and wooly days. We’ll get it taken care of in the wee hours while everybody else is sleeping it off.”
Brant pulled his keychain out of his pocket, took the key to the suite off and handed it to Brandon.
When Brand took it, he said, “I’m keeping her.”
Brant nodded. “I figured.”
Cami gathered up the bag she’d gotten from Brigid and her toiletries from the bathroom. With one last look at the body, she walked over and stood by the door, eager to leave.
“Wow. Presidential privilege.”
She was right. Brant’s suite was more luxurious than she’d pictured, having seen the minimalistic approach to the design and decoration of the room she’d been in.
It was three times as big. With wide plank wood floors and a massive bed that looked like it had been carved by a Germanic family during a long snowed in winter. The only color in the room was brown, but it presented itself in so many variations of shade, texture, and material that it was inviting. Soothing and sexy at the same time.
“Soothing and sexy?” Brandon asked.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah. You did.”
“I must be losing it.”
“Understandable. Come here.” She let the overnight bag fall from her hands, walked over and pressed her face into Brandon’s chest. He put his arms around her. “You’re safe.”
“I feel safe right now. Right here. But I don’t feel safe when I can’t see you.”
“You will. When I take care of this.”
“How are you going to take care of this, Brandon? He’s never going to stop.”
“Oh, yeah.” Brandon was nodding. “He is.”
She pulled back to look at him. What she found when she searched his face was confidence and sincerity. He believed that Trey wasn’t always going to be a threat.
“How?”
“All you need to know is that you’re going to live your life free. Free of the past and him. Free of fear.”
He could tell by the way she sighed that she wanted to believe him, but didn’t. Couldn’t.
“We haven’t known each other a long time in minutes,” he said, “but I think you know you can trust me, that if I say something is coming to pass, it is. Someday I hope your trust in that is as automatic as breathing in and out.”
“I do trust you.”
He smiled. “That was the soothing. Now for the sexy.”
Brandon had been with a lot of women in his time and knew a lot about technique, but he found that making love was different from hooking up in so many ways. For one thing, he was constantly distracted by the overwhelming emotion. He finally gave up on technique and just allowed himself to feel.
They made love slowly. Thoroughly. And afterward, Cami fell into the deep sleep of exhaustion. Being a hair’s breath away from murdered is depleting in every way it can be.
The walls and door of Brant’s suite were thicker than the rest of the rooms, but Brandon could still hear the thump of bass from loud music and the occasional shriek or holler. Long after there were no sounds of music or voices, he lay awake, mind racing.
He pulled away from Cami, taking pains to not wake her, pulled on his clothes and shut the door quietly. Looking down the long hallway, sixty feet away, he saw that there was a pair of eyes identical to his own locked on his movement, just as his brother had promised there would be.
Brandon got a bottle of water out of one of the small refrigerators behind the bar. When he came around the bar, he noticed that Brant was asleep on one of the sofas.
He slid onto the stool next to Brash.
“I think I have a plan.”
“Should I wake the old man?”
“I think so. Three heads are better than two.”
“You think I could sleep with you two whispering like old women?” Brant said from across the room. He got up and walked to the bar.
“You want something?” Brash asked.
“Coffee.”
Brash turned and started the pod machine. He knew how his pop liked his coffee. The three of them turned to see who was coming in at that hour.
Brant had set Bawdy on the gate for the night and told him to let th
e unmarked white van in. Quietly.
“These the people?” Bawdy asked Brant.
Brant nodded. “Stay on the gate.” Bawdy turned and left like a good soldier without having to be told twice. Brant was on the verge of deciding that the boy would make a good club member.
Brant showed the two guys to the room where the body was resting, in peace or not, and returned to the bar.
When Brandon finished laying out the rough draft of a plan to make sure Cami was rid of Michaels, he said, “I don’t expect you to help me other than pointing out holes and problems. If I miss something and end up in a snare, I want it to be just me.”
Brant and Brash shared a look. Though they didn’t change expressions, Brandon could see a silent conversation pass between them, the result of having lived together for the whole of Brash’s life.
The three stopped talking as the cleanup guys walked through the bar area carrying a black body bag. Brash went over and opened the door then closed it once they were outside.
“Of course we’re going to help,” Brant said in his gruff troll voice. “The club hasn’t always been squeaky clean, you know. There was a time when things happened behind closed doors. Under the table. In the shadows. This is one of those things.”
As the three were contemplating all the ramifications of that philosophy, the door opened and the cleanup crew passed through with all sorts of cleanup paraphernalia, on their way to take care of the room and make sure that not even a crime scene investigation task force could find so much as a molecule of evidence. They knew how to scrub and keep their mouths shut. They also knew how to invoice accordingly.
Brandon insisted that he, and not the club, pay the bill, which began an entirely new discussion about how to transfer money without leaving a trail.
CHAPTER Fifteen
Brash took the cup of coffee Brigid offered him and leaned against the gray granite counter in their kitchen.
“Brand thinks he’s in love.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“No?”
She laughed. “No. Cami reminds me so much of your mother.”
“Mom?”
She angled her head with a skeptical look. “You didn’t notice? Really?”
The Biker's Brother (Sons of Sanctuary MC Book 2) Page 17
