Page 23 of Nomad

“Thanks for the cold shiver that just ran up my back.”

She laughed again. “Okay then. I’m watching telenovelas.”

“Good. Get the crap out of your system while I’m not there.”

“It’s not crap. Alejandro is about to find out that Miranda is really his daughter.”

“Christ. Don’t forget to set the alarm.”

“Who needs an alarm with these dogs, Brant? I feel sorry for the poor ne’er-do-well that tries to come in here uninvited.”

“Just set the alarm.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Garland.”

“Okay! I will.”

Brant had barely hung up when Arnold said, “At the gates, boss.”

Brant had a choice to make. He could walk out beyond the gate and talk with whoever’d been sent and he’d be perfectly within his rights to keep the law at a distance. But going out of his way to seem open to inspection might dispel a cause for warrants. If he could lay suspicion to rest and send the dogs off in a different direction, that would be a win. Definitely the smarter choice.

For years the club had been squeaky clean when it came to such things as drugs. After all, Brant had raised a child there.

“Tell Juice to send ‘em on up.”

Arnold looked surprised, but nodded.

Brant walked out into the main room. “Shut that off.” He motioned to the TV as he barked the order at the prospect behind the bar. Everybody gave Brant their immediate and undivided attention. “Rangers on the way up. Just relax. If they ask if you’ve seen Cann, the answer is…”

In unison everybody in the room said, “No.”

Brant nodded his satisfaction with that. He looked up at the security cameras that simultaneously showed six views of the compound and grounds. “Shut that down and make sure the feed from the past two days is destroyed. Now!”

Rally hurried toward the server room to make sure the cameras were offline. They went dark just as Arnold was opening the door for the Rangers.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” Arnold said.

Two armed Rangers stepped inside. The first was Forge Russell, whom Brant had known most of his life. The Fornight family had always had ties to the Rangers. In fact the founder was a great-uncle of Brant’s, and one of his dad’s brothers had served.

Brant came forward and stuck out his hand. “Russ,” he said. “What brings you out here?”

“Brant. Got a situation.” The guy next to Russell was young enough to be his kid. Brant guessed he was a new partner. “This is R.W. Mackey.” After Brant shook hands with the younger man, Russell said, “We don’t want to disturb your evenin’. Just have a couple of questions. Got some place where we can talk?”

Brant looked around. There were twenty-odd people in the room. “Oh.” Brant played ignorant. “You mean some place where everybody doesn’t hear what you got to say?”

Russell almost rolled his eyes, but leveled on Brant and his defiant smirk instead. “Yes,” he said evenly. “That is what I mean.”

“You can come on back to the office, but it’s kind of tight in there.”

“That’s okay. We won’t be long.”

“Suit yourself.”

The two Rangers followed Brant back to the office, the younger one doing his best to visually record every detail and not miss a thing.

Brant sat down behind his messy desk and motioned for the two other men to sit in the two old wood deacon’s chairs. Russell sat, but Mackey chose to stand by the closed door.

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