Page 60 of The Biker's Brother

The incident lasted no longer than two seconds, but the copter made it clear that they were bored with keeping pace and eager to start a cat and mouse game. All of a sudden the deafening propeller noise faded.

An eighteen-wheeler was coming toward them on the other side of the road, about a mile away. Apparently whatever the occupants of the helicopter planned, they didn’t want witnesses. They did a fast ascent to keep from being identified.

He glanced at the map. They were only twenty-five minutes from the next town. If he could get them to a place with witnesses all around, they had a good chance of waiting out his pop’s ‘back up’, whatever that was. Brandon knew his father had resources. Hell. For all he knew the old man was going to scramble jet fighters and sick them on the copter that was at a distance but still audible.

“Pull over. Fast as you can without killing us. And trade places with me.”

She hit the brakes, shoved the car into park, and was out running around in less than a minute. Brandon had to admire the efficiency with which she executed his request.

Brandon was going nearly eighty miles per hour by the time he was fastening his seat belt. When the truck was out of sight, they heard the noise of the rotating helicopter blades getting louder. Brandon was pushing the car toward one twenty, but it was a straight flat stretch of road, safer than any race track. Still, Cami’s knuckles were white where she was holding on.

The helicopter made a sudden dip. Brandon stomped on the brakes which caused the car to burn rubber and fish tail. Cami let out a small sound, but Brand could hardly hold that against her. Under the circumstances she was practically cool and composed.

The pilot and the guy next to him were close enough that Brandon and Cami could see their faces.

“Hold on,” he said, before slamming the car into reverse and executing an inverted three point turn.

For a brief time they were headed the other direction. As fast as they were going, they caught up with the eighteen wheeler they’d passed. They rode his tail for ten minutes until he slowed and turned off at a ranch.

“Christ. Just our luck. It’s a cattle truck.”

Since the helicopter was out of sight and audibly absent as well, Brandon made a U turn so that they were heading south again. He was still spooked enough to want to get to civilization fast so he put the accelerator to the floor.

Why had he thought sparse population was such a great idea? What they needed was witnesses. Lots of them. And all they had was a mesa with grama grass, cactus, and a nice view of mountains in the distance.

They’d been speeding south for ten minutes. Just before hearing the helicopter, Brandon had been starting to feel hopeful that their pursuers had given it up. The copter practically dove at them.

Brandon had to pull a hard right to keep from running into them and, though the people in the helicopter might have been ready to commit hara-kiri, he was not. He’d just figured out that he had a lot to live for.

It looked like he’d successfully avoided the copter, but a rear tire caught loose gravel and sent the car rolling so that it was upside down. They were both hanging from seatbelts.

“You okay?” he asked her.

“Brandon. Don’t let them…”

He fought with the buckle holding him prisoner until it gave way and dropped him on his head. He was trying to lay hands on one of the guns, when he heard a man’s voice yell, “You want her out of there?”

“No! This couldn’t have worked out better. Just set fire to the car and we’re done. Perfect accident.”

Cami heard it, too. Her gaze found Brandon’s and held on like she was saying goodbye. And something else.

Their eyes were thus locked together when they heard the sound of salvation. A roar mightier than a dozen whirling rotary blades.

Engines were shut off by the time Brandon finally laid hand on one of the pistols. He pushed the door open and crawled out to find twenty guys wearing colors, holding guns on the three guys who were in the helicopter. One of the new arrivals, with gray-streaked black hair, walked over, reached inside the helicopter, and cut the engine like he knew what he was doing.

“You all right?” he asked Brandon. Brand nodded as his eyes flicked to the PRESIDENT patch on the man’s cut. “Your pop sent us to make sure you found your way out of this fix. Go way back, your dad and me. Name’s Axel.”

“I need to get…”

“Ow!”

Axel grinned in an engaging way that would never suggest his men were disarming the three guys at gunpoint and forcing them to their knees, execution style, which seemed kind of risky since it was a public highway in bright morning sunlight. “Sounds like she figured out how to get loose herself.”

There were a few quiet chuckles in response to the president’s observation.

Brand looked around. They were wearing Dust Devils patches. Since Brandon hadn’t grown up in club life, he had no idea who was who in terms of Texas motorcycle clubs.

Cami made her way around to Brandon’s side. He looked down at her and it was all he could do not to put his arm around her and drag her into his side to show her and everybody else that she was protected. And his.

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