Page 52 of The Biker's Brother

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’resureof 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 theNight 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. “Formoney.”

“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 tokillyou. Formoney.”

“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 seeeverything. 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.

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