Page 86 of The Biker's Brother

“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 tofeel.

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 the 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.

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