Hiding in Plain Sight (11 page)

Two. 

In every instance before, the Milosevics only sent men in one at a time.  This duo, at this time of day, was a new twist in Brand's on-going war with the people from his country who had settled in this new place.  And who had, in just a few short years, established their own criminal hierarchy here in America just as they had in the land of his birth.

They'd killed his family.  Raped his mother, sisters and female cousins in full view of the village back in the old country.  Shot his father, grandfather and uncles at point blank range.

All in full view of the six year old version of him.

Then they'd murdered Nadia and her remaining family here in the new country that they'd tried to call home. 

Including his unborn child.

To say that he hated them didn't give justice to the word. 

And justice was all he wanted.

Knowing who they were, what they had done, he had no emotion as he turned to fully face the other man, whipping his gun to connect at the temple.  The man began to drop and Brand helped him in to do so, catching the man's face with his knee, his elbow striking between his shoulder blades.   Brand heard the squeal of tires from the car outside knowing the driver had seen the drop of the two bodies.

Grabbing their ankles, he pulled their heavy forms more fully inside the room, one at a time. He stood and shrugged to release some of the tension within him even as he moved to around the bed dressing quickly, snagging his own bag and draped it over his head.

He stuck his head in the bathroom, not surprised in the least at the blinking shards of glass that covered the vanity's countertop and floor.

She'd escaped, using the window as the only opening provided.

Brand closed the bathroom door and crossed the main portion of the room, stepping over the still breathing carcasses on the floor before making his way outside. 

His body now in the small alley behind the motel, noted the broken window in the unit that had been theirs before he yanked on the dumpster and backed the bike out from behind it. 

He smiled at the broken shards of glass seated in the grass hugging the stucco of the building as he stepped by.  She'd gotten away.

So where
was
she?

She'd escaped, that much he'd figured out.  But he had no indication, no inkling of where she'd gone to hide.  He hit the ignition and rumbled to the far side of the parking lot, almost too wired from the residual adrenaline to think clearly.

He looked right, then left.  As he turned his head back to center, he saw her moving out of the corner of his eye.  Hair flying, legs pumping as she raced to him, catching him at his chest as she catapulted her ass onto the seat.  As before, she pounded his shoulders as she screamed, "go, go,
go
!"

He did as instructed.

Chapter Eleven

I don't know how he did it, but Bayco found yet another park for us to eat the fast food breakfast we'd stopped to get.  I barely remembered the ride since my heart was still doing its rabbit imitation as we rode through the wakening streets of North Platte.

We'd both finished our breakfasts, although we hadn't eaten much of what he'd bought.  In fact, our mouths hadn't moved much at all since we'd peeled out of the motel's driveway.

"We will carry out our plan as before since they will need to regroup," he said finally, sounding like he was starting our conversation in the middle of whatever was in his head.  I saw him pull out his cellphone and check the time.  "Only instead of going to the Harley store first, we will head to the other since it is open twenty-four hours."

"Okay," I acknowledged.  "Big store first.  Harley store second."

My body was trying to shake off the effects of the stress from our fast escape but it was slow to go.  The arms I wrapped tight around my waist were no longer cutting it in the self- soothing department.  I reached for my purse and pulled out my hairbrush.  I started at the ends on the mess of my windblown hair, working my way through the tangles until it was smooth enough for me to turn on the plastic bench of the picnic table and bend my head over.  I moved the bristles from my neck to the ends using the pressure of the sharp points as well as the stroking motion to help me relax.

My eyes caught on Bayco's as I flipped my head back.

"What?" I asked sharply.  I almost felt like I'd been caught on the toilet, in a private moment, from the expression on his face.

"You have very beautiful hair," he said simply, his eyes never leaving mine.

"So you've said," I huffed, pulling the extra hair out of the brush, tossing the strands onto the grass before stowing it away.

"A typical American response to a compliment is, 'thank you'," he corrected.

"If my body or my looks were something I had anything to do with, then I'd thank you.  But they aren't, so I won't," I grumbled.  I broke from our shared look and moved my eyes to follow the birds flitting from tree to tree. 

We were the only people in the park, but I didn't feel like we were alone between all the birds and the traffic that was beginning to pick up on the streets that surrounded us.  It was just another Wednesday for most people, the most mundane of days as they made their way to their jobs or school or where ever they had to be at whatever time. The smell of the exhaust from their cars didn't overtake the smell of the fresh green grass, though.  "Did you kill him?"

He didn't answer so I shot a glance his way only to see him still looking at me with the same expression as before; an expression I couldn't read.

"Would it bother you if I had?" he asked after a few heartbeats of time.

I turned his question around in my head before answering honestly.  "I don't know.  If it would stop Louie from finding me, then, no."

"Good answer," he replied softly as he reached for our overstuffed take-out bag and his jacket.  "Are you calm enough to shop now?"

I could only nod as I stood, pulling the strap of my purse over my head before settling the backpack again on my shoulders.

But I was thankful for his fingers catching mine, to hold my hand, as we walked back to where he'd parked the bike.  The heat of his hand provided much more comfort than I was willing to admit, even to myself.  A comfort whose need I found infuriating.

*.*.*.*.*

Brand rubbed his hand over the velvet stubbles of his head, the only remaining pieces of his hair after she'd used the electric razor on him.  His eyes drifted down to his arms exposed in the tight, white, sleeveless t-shirt she'd picked out for him.  She called it a 'wife-beater', which puzzled him to no end.  Why would people call a simple shirt such a horrible, horrific name?

His eyes glanced to her, bent over the bathtub where she was rinsing out the remains of the towel they had draped over their shoulders as they'd buzzed one another.  Her rounded full ass, now encased in light pajama pants, jiggled as she moved, cupping and directing the water to rinse all the little hairs from the tub.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and grinned before shutting the water off.

"Feels weird?" she asked, straightening and his eyes dropped to her chest only covered by her thin of t-shirt which declared 'Biker Bitches Know How to Ride'.  He caught himself on the inhale when he saw how her nipples were pressing against the fabric.

Brand swallowed and dragged his eyes back to his own reflection.  "Yes, I have not had short hair for a very long time."

He felt the heat of her next to him before he moved his eyes, careful to keep them on her face reflected in the mirror.

"Yeah, well, Bay," she said ruefully, raising her own hand to rub on the exposed scalp above her ear.  "This is a new look for me too."

Indeed it was.

Her hair, her beautiful hair had been buzzed in an one inch strip from temple to neck on both sides before she'd directed him to pull the long, even length from the crown straight up to cut the ends.  It was still beautiful but such a style as to be distinctive, edgy and totally different than how she originally wore it.  She called it a 'wide, faux-hawk'.  He called it a shame, but still…

It was perfect for hiding as it changed her look completely.

Add to it the heavy eye makeup, the huge, elaborate earrings and, if he'd seen her out in public, even he wouldn't have recognized her. 

The 'her' which he would never forget.

She slid an arm around his waist and squeezed before she moved behind him.  "We need to apply the tats, baldy.  We're burning daylight here."

They'd done all they'd set out to do that morning, up to and including a new motel room on the farthest edge of town.  The new motorcycle, a 2010 Harley Electric Glide Classic, in pearl blue was a beauty but he'd known when he'd paid the difference between the price of it and his trade-in that he'd be selling it in a couple of days.  Another shame because it was a sweet ride, perfect for how they were traveling.

He had her sprawl out on the width of the bed, facing the drone of the TV while he sat, behind her as he applied the temporary tattoos to cover the skin of both arms.  As he worked, he was again thankful that she didn't feel the need to fill the air with a lot of senseless chatter.  That was something he still hadn't gotten used to while in America, and he'd been in the country for over fifteen years.

Sometimes his heart craved silence, the kind of silence without people or their machines.  Which probably was why he chose to live where he did.  The deep woods of Montana provided him with the solitude and quiet his battered, scarred soul needed.

Brand's eyes drifted over her skin as he held the printed sheet against her before wetting the paper.  The more he got to know her, the more emotions she stirred inside him.  Feelings he'd thought were long dead and gone.  Her innocence and obvious lack of knowledge spoke loudly to his protective instincts.  And her grateful joy at even the smallest things sent his heart soaring, even though those moments were few and far between.  Just like her smiles.  Not spread freely.  But when carefully given, felt like sunshine against his skin after a week of cold rain.

It took him almost an hour to get her right arm completed before he directed her to shift so he could do the other.  Halfway through the procedure on the last bit though, she'd fallen asleep.  He took a few moments to watch, noting how her face softened in slumber, her full lips gentling as she slept.  Trusting him to keep watch and protect her.

He knew he was considered a cold man.  Hell, even Niko had called him an unfeeling bastard just a few days ago.  But this dear one, the one he called draga, the sweet thing before him had started a thaw inside he couldn't explain and didn't want to examine.  He let his eyes drift lower taking in the full of her breast, the sharp indentation of her waist which was emphasized by the full curve of her hip.

He wanted her. 

Wanted to take her, ride her and show her, with gentle moves and slow kisses, that not all men were like those she'd known.  To show her pleasure and give her the acceptance he was sure she'd never had before.  And, from what Atin had enunciated from the police reports, she'd not had experience with those of his gender who didn't want to use her.  Definitely not from her father or brothers, nor from the man who had purchased her.

Purchased.

He could feel the rage begin to build within him again at the thought of anyone, fucking
anyone
, who believed they'd bought her.  Who were deluded enough to consider that by the exchange of money, they received an ounce, a smidgeon of the woman he'd seen in just their few days together.  

Brand reached for the next designed piece of paper and bent his head back to his task with a sigh.

*.*.*.*.*

My teeth were biting into the hot wing in time to the blaring music of the roadhouse Brand had taken me for dinner.   The food and the music, not to mention the company, had me fully in my 'happy place' and doing a little chair wiggle of delight.

This was so much different, so much better, than being on the bike or stuck in some small room.  I was completely over the moon.  Not to mention, it was so different from anything I'd actually ever experienced, protected as I was growing up.

I grabbed another handful of napkins and grinned as I wiped my saucy hands and, what I was sure, my messy mouth.

Nope.  This was, far and away, one of the best nights of my life.  Back home, I wasn't allowed out, even if we'd had the extra money for restaurants, much less the clothes fit to go out in. 

Although I didn't look anything like myself anymore.  But the person I'd seen in the mirror before we left was someone Bayco wanted to see, if I was interpreting the amount of times his eyes caught and lingered on mine.  With me and the different body parts showcased in my new clothes. 

Let him look
, I thought rebelliously.  Whether he admired me or not, wasn't my concern.

He learned towards me, his lips on my ear to be heard over the loud music and crowd.  "You are enjoying your food, correct?" he asked.

I pulled back and knew the smile I shot him was beaming as I nodded enthusiastically.  I got a dimpled grin in return.  His hand, which had been on the back of the side of the booth we were sitting in, dropped to my shoulder and pulled me against him before releasing quickly.  As his hand moved away, I felt a sharp pang of disappointment that I put a lid on. 

When I was finally done, my plate nothing more than the bare bones of the wings I'd devoured, I carefully maneuvered my purse over my body and shifted my hips against his.  "Bathroom," I shouted.

"I will escort you," he shouted back as he turned and stepped into the aisle that was only partially clear of people standing around the dance floor.  He stopped the waitress and I saw him point towards our table and lean towards her, his lips moving.  She nodded and moved on as he turned back to me, holding out a hand.

I held both of mine up to demonstrate I didn't want to touch him with the sticky fingers the food had created. 

I got a full smile with a full dimple as he grabbed the sides of my waist and, holding me in front of him, we moved in and out of the people who spilled out onto the little runway between the seating and the teeming space.  The ladies' room was just as packed as the dance floor, and I had to wait for a place at one of the sinks, sharing the mirror with other women primping right along with me.

Bay was waiting for me just outside the door and I won't lie.  The sight of his smile when he spied me rebuilt the tiny burgeoning flame inside that I'd been trying to stomp out ever since I'd woken up in his arms. 

He led me, as before, in front of him by my hips until we were again at our booth, only it had been cleared of our meal.  There was now only a sweating bottle of beer and a glass of orange juice where our plates had been.  I slid in and felt him follow.