Page 92 of The Biker's Brother

“You’re free.” His voice sounded gruff, even to him. He reached up and pushed her hair back even though it wasn’t long enough to be in her face. “But it’s not over.”

Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“You’re going to have to leave. Start a new life.”

She looked away, believing he was taking back what he’d said about them having a future together and not wanting him to see her distress.

“You’ll get a job at one of the New York museums.”

She shook her head. “Brandon, those jobs are plum. You don’t just walk in and say, ‘I believe I’ll start work here today’.”

It was his turn to look at her like she was being naïve. “Come on. You know how it works. I’ll offer to renovate a wing and mention that I know someone... I’ll gradually start spending more time at the New York office, making the party rounds. As will you. We’ll run into each other. Start dating. Get our pictures taken together. Announce our engagement in six months. No muss. No fuss. No suspicion.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly and took a deep breath when she realized he was laying out a plan. She didn’t like the idea of spendinganytime without him, but six months wasn’t forever. And if it got them to forever…

“I’d like to live here,” he said. “I could give it up, but I just discovered my pop and my brother.”

“That’s okay with me. I want you to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. I’m not going to like six months away. I like twenty-four seven.”

He pulled her closer so that her face was nestled into his neck. “Me too. But we can do this. It’s smart.”

“Brandon.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I discovered that it’s my purpose. The most important thing in the world.”

She sighed happily and snuggled in closer.

After a week Trey Michaels was officially declared missing. He had a lunch meeting with Henry Bartholemew on his calendar, but Bartholemew confirmed that he never showed up. Without a body, or a person with motive, or a family who cared about the victim, the police were not especially enthusiastic about dedicating valuable resources to solving the mystery.

For all they knew, Michaels had tired of his billionaire lifestyle and decided to disappear to Lichtenstein. Or wherever.

Cami stayed busy. She spent her days working at the Frick. She’d taken a sublease on the upper east side near the park, gotten in touch with a few friends from school who lived in New York, and made plans so that she’d be seen about town. But to her it was all part of the momentum carrying her forward to the day when she’d be with Brandon all the time.

As he’d said they would, they met at a party given by someone who’d become a mutual friend, and started dating. Brandon spent more time in New York than in Austin. Brandon and Cami finally decided to have a small wedding at the home of Cami’s parents. That, however, was followed by big receptions in Boston, New York, and Austin.

Brandon gave Cami the lot on the bluff overlooking the river in Austin as a wedding present and told her she could build any house she wanted, but make sure it had a lot of room for kids.

As Brigid had suspected, Brandon’s mother was crazy about Cami. She joined the campaign to suggest that grandchildren would be welcomed in the very near future. In the meantime, Cami’s new favorite thing was weekend rides with the SSMC and their women.

Sometimes when Cami found herself alone, still, and quiet, her thoughts wandered to the two lives that were forfeit for hers. When that happened, she felt neither sadness nor guilt. What she felt was gratitude that she’d been lucky in love. She’d found a man who loved her enough to kill for her and never look back.

~

Sons of Sanctuary #3, NOMAD

Cannon Johns was a man who’d once had the world in his hands and lost everything. When he rode his Harley underneath the motel office overhang just after midnight, he was soaking wet and looking for the only comfort life still had to offer. The escape of sleep.

After being told there was no food available at that time of night, he pulled his ride into the room he’d just rented and went looking for dinner in the vending machines. When he was eight feet away, he saw movement by the Mountain Dew column. In addition to being bone weary, world weary, and out of options, he was out of sorts with no patience for shenanigans.

“Come on out of there and state your business.” He had to raise his voice to a near-shout to be heard over the pounding rain.

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