Page 6 of The Biker's Brother

Ruby was drying a glass. So she motioned toward the conference room with her head.

Brandon raised his chin at her while treating her to a drool-worthy smile. That was the only way Ruby could tell the difference between Brash and Brand. Brash had a sexy grin that he saved for Brigid. Brand had a drop dead gorgeous smile and he wasn’t stingy with it.

Brant, Car Lot, Judge, and Miles were waiting. He nodded to all of them.

“Close the door,” Brant said. “Let’s get started.”

At one o’clock the briefing was complete. Brandon had a good handle on the plan.

“Brand wants to talk to Carmichael,” Brant told the group. To Brandon he said, “You have any objections to putting him on speakerphone?” Brandon shook his head. “Okay. Let me get him.”

Brant grabbed the land line phone behind him and set it on the table. Putting on his glasses, he read the number from a little notebook he kept in his breast pocket.

“Mr. Carmichael’s office,” said a female voice.

“This is Sanctuary Security. Can you put him on the phone, please?”

“Just a moment.”

The symphonic strings of the elevator music that everyone hates equally began to filter into the room over the speakerphone. The four men gave each other looks that said, “If he doesn’t pick up in thirty seconds, I’m putting that shit out the nearest window.”

“Mr. Fornight?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Got the man here who’s going to move your package. He wants to talk to you directly. That okay with you?”

“Of course.”

“Mr. Carmichael, my name’s Brandon Fornight.” He glanced at Brant, who raised an eyebrow because Brand had always gone by St. Germaine. “Is there anything you want to add about this Trey Michaels? He was your son-in-law for three years. I’m sure you’ve got some personal insights that wouldn’t turn up in a dossier.”

“The main thing I want to get across, and I can’t express this too strongly, donotunderestimate this man. He managed to fool me and I’m not being overly vain when I say that’s not easy to do. He doesn’t seem to have a conscience and that, paired with almost unlimited resources, makes him dangerous as it gets. He’s very likely connected to organized crime. If everything I’ve heard is true, his influence is,” he broke off for a few seconds, “extensive.”

“Okay,” Brand said. “Just one more question. How does she feel about camping?”

There was a lengthy pause before Carmichael spoke. “My daughter camping. Under other circumstances I might be laughing until tears came to my eyes.”

“I see,” said Brand. “Is there anything else you want me to know?”

“Yes. If anything happens to my little girl, you are a dead man.”

“Duly noted,” Brandon said drily.

Brant spoke up. “I’ll call you on the secure phone tomorrow morning with final plans.”

“We’ll be ready,” said Carmichael.

When the call was ended, Brandon turned to Brant and said, “I didn’t want to use the name St. Germaine because he’d probably recognize it and question why I, of all people, am escorting his daughter to safety.”

Brant nodded. “Smart.” He didn’t add that it had given him a little rush to hear Brandon use the surname, Fornight.

CHAPTER TWO

New Jersey

Brandon was picked up at Newark and taken to a warehouse where a van painted like a Con Ed truck was waiting inside. Camden Carmichael’s luggage was also waiting. It had been shipped to a Fed Ex facility and held there until claimed by one of Brant’s operatives.

“These her bags?” Without waiting for confirmation, Brandon unzipped and started going through her things.

“What are you looking for?” Dyson was a chocolate-colored guy with beautiful white teeth. The whites of his eyes were just as arresting, the color of arctic tundra. He’d picked Brand up at the airport in a beater, wearing jeans with holes, not the kind that looked like they’d been deliberately made for purposes of fashion. The kind that looked like the result of wear. The jeans complemented a long-sleeve tee showing bits of some message that had once, no doubt, been crisp and colorful.

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