Page 58 of The Biker's Brother

“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’sotherphone number. The one used for security communications on this one job. The one that was supposed to become obsolete within a few hours.

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