Page 90 of The Biker's Brother

The supply had come from Brand’s dad. A small bottle. Brant had said that they could have easily made their own out of common household items, but that he’d gotten it from a friend of the club in order to avoid incriminating chemical traces around the club or at one of their homes.

Michaels struggled for less than ten seconds before he was out cold.

Brandon drew up the anchor by automated pulley and turned the yacht back toward New York. Halfway between Nantucket and Montauk, Arnold pushed Michaels off the end of the boat, weighted down with four eleven-pound barbell plates.

He closed the ‘garage’ door and found Brandon at the helm.

“He’s sleeping with the fishes old school, boss,” Arnold said. “They’re gonna be well-dressed fish. ‘Cause the clothes I was wearing are getting a salt water rinse. Just like you said.”

Brandon smiled. “You did good, Arnold. The club won’t forget.”

“Yeah. I know. The club’s been good to me.”

The Silver Garland received permission to dock at Montauk at dusk. Brandon cooked dinner on board. They ate with the TV on. At dark, they locked up, replaced the key on the fender and started the long drive home.

Brandon called the captain while Arnold took the first shift driving.

“Pick her up at Montauk and bring her back to North Cove. I let some college buddies take it out fishing. They said they made a mess in the speedboat. So hire somebody to give it a deep clean. You know I don’t like fish or fishy residue. So tell them to sterilize that boat. I don’t want a single germ or fish blood molecule left behind.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll see to it tomorrow.”

“Very good.”

Brandon dropped the phone into the drink console, leaned back and closed his eyes. It felt like he’d spent far too much time in moving vehicles the past week.

He went to the penthouse first, threw all the clothes he’d taken into a hot water wash, showered, changed, and drove to the club. On the way he called Brash.

“You can go back to being you.”

“Thank Christ. Where are you?”

“Ten minutes away from the club.”

“Does Pop know you’re back?”

“No, but he knows I’m supposed to be back tonight.”

“That girl of yours has been antsy.”

Brandon perked up at that. “What do you mean?”

“She’s smart enough to guess what you’ve been doing. She’s also smart enough to never name it out loud. But she’s been nervous. Brigid and I took her to dinner. I thought getting her away from the club would help take her mind off things.”

“Did it?”

“I think the only cure is seeing you back here. She’s got it as bad as you.”

Brandon unconsciously stepped on the gas a little harder. He couldn’t wait to see her.

He walked through the clubhouse doors to a hail of greetings, but he was looking around for a spikey-haired blonde.

“She’s in Brant’s room,” Rita said without being asked.

He looked down the hall. The door was closed and he couldn’t get there fast enough. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d never live it down, he might have jogged down the hallway.

Cami answered the door.

Brandon was standing there looking uncertain. She’d changed her hair back to its natural mahogany color. She also looked at home in her own clothes that fit her perfectly and seemed to fit her personality. It seemed her bags had finally arrived.

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