Hiding in Plain Sight (14 page)

He finally got off the freeway at someplace called Northport.  At what was advertised to be a 'fully crafted rest stop to ease your weary travels'. 

It had bathrooms, which included showers that were fully functional.  It had vending machines that worked.  And it had a view that was amazing.

I was standing at the back of the cinder-blocked facilities, admiring the sight of pine covered mountains folding over one another when I felt the heat of his body behind me.

"Guess our plan is shot to hell, huh?" I ventured, not turning around to look at him.  While I'd taken a shower and dried off my dirty clothes, I wasn't looking forward to getting back on the bike.  Or touching him.  At looking at him.  Because if I looked at him I was sure I'd remember the feel of him, the
all
of feeling him on and in me.  Which wasn't something I was willing to do at the moment.

"Our original plan is no longer valid, true," I heard him grumble behind me even as I felt his hands on my shoulders, pulling my back to his front.

"So, what's the plan, then, Bay?" I asked softly into that golden afternoon. 

I felt his fingers flex, increasing the pressure of his finger hold.

"I have a friend to assist us, my draga," he said, his mouth against my ear causing delicious shivers to run over my skin.  "I have known him for years and he will help.  But we must be fast and quick since I know they will send more men to try and capture you."

There wasn't a help for it as I moved my hands to cover his own on my shoulders.  I took a deep swallow as I prepared to ask him the questions that had been bothering me for a lot of road.

"Why am I so important?  I mean, I don't get why he is so hung up on me when he could have anybody."

"Were you a virgin, my Reese, before you gave yourself to me?" he countered into the shell of my ear, after a lengthy bit of silence.

"Uhm.  No," I replied.  I wasn’t gonna lie.  He'd done whatever it took to take the goons from the other morning down, and I was thinking now was not the time to play emotional games.

"Does he know that you are not?" Bay asked again.

"Uhm," and I could feel my face heat with this next admission.  "No."

There was quiet as we both watched the navy of the night overtake the colors of the sky.

"He is a small power lord who has been allowed a small space to control.  He also is old, recognizing that he has a short time on the earth.  He wants heirs," Bay explained, the strands of my hair puffing with his words.

"Heirs?" I asked back, turning my head to look at him over my shoulder as my hand caught the errant locks and tucked them firmly behind my ear.

"A boy, a son to carry his legacy into the future," he explained.  I watched him swallow as his eyes disengaged as he continued.  "He needs to breed with you."

Oh, shit.  Breed?  Really?  That was such an old-fashioned word but it explained so much.  All the times I'd been released from my rooms at the mansion.   The stilted dinners.  The touches that the old man had tried in his library, when his clammy, cold hands had attempted to finger me in places I hadn't liked.  And had turned to pinches and bites after I'd hit him a couple of times to show I didn't want him to touch me
anywhere
.

"Relax, Reese," I heard in my ear, never realizing I'd stiffened at the memories.  "You do not want this?"

"Uh, what was your first clue?" I asked.  "Being on that highway without a hope and with a car that wouldn't run?"

I felt more than heard a chuckle from inside his beautiful chest as we leaned together.

It was the chuckle that set me off and I felt myself tense.

"I will see you safe, draga," he murmured as I felt another flex of his fingers before he released my shoulders.  "We will go up the road and meet with my friend, yes?  Then we will make further decisions."

"That name you call me, does it have a meaning?" I asked, trying to smile as I turned towards him.

"Dear one," he replied without expression.  "It means 'dear one' in my old language."

Nadia
.

I bet he called her more than just 'draga'.

I was just someone he'd decided to protect for the moment.  Someone who had made herself available with dreams of the 'L' word in her head.  A girl who had laid herself underneath him with her heart singing before…

Get over it!
I told myself.

He was only around to protect me.

And in truth, the man was doing really well at the job he'd chosen to do.

*.*.*.*.*

They were still a few hundred yards away from the ranch house, dust plumes signaling their trek on the long dirt driveway when Brand saw the screen door open.  Atin walked to the wide, wooden steps but awaited their arrival on the porch with his hands on his hips.

It had been long, too long, since they'd actually had face-to-face contact but usually spoke two to three times a week on the phone.  They needed to stay in touch because of their jobs, but the bonds of their friendship, forged when they were very young, demanded it. 

Atin, Niko and Brand were three of the fortunate ones who made it out of their war torn country after losing their families, all of their relatives, at an age no child should ever be without the people they loved. While they hadn't known one another in the old country, the three little boys with serious faces and wide suspicious eyes had been drawn to one another at the first Overseas Rescue camp they'd been placed.  It hadn't taken much to cement their burgeoning friendship and to become a little army against others at the site that had sought to take advantage of other refugees.  They may have been little, but they were no longer young by the time it was announced they would be moved.

Atin was the first to tell one of the rescue workers that the three boys were brothers and couldn't be separated.  Niko and Brand had no trouble following his reasoning and added their own voices to the request to remain together.  And, so they had.

Until they were moved to America.

Brand swung the bike in a wide arc and rolled to a stop a few yards away from the steps.  He shut off his ride and made haste in removing his helmet before swinging himself off the motorcycle, quickly making his way towards a fast moving Atin.  Catching the other man in a hug, Brand swallowed the lump that had formed.  It had been a long time, too long.

"You are still a lumbering beast!" Atin yelled, thumping Brand's back.

"Do you eat at all, little brother?" Brand roared back.  "Skin and bones."

They broke apart but kept their hands on one another's arms, their faces wreathed in smiles.

"It is good to see you," Atin said finally.  Brand saw the other man's eyes drift to Reese still sitting in position on the back of the bike.  "And you brought someone with you."

Brand disconnected and went to help her to the ground, and with the straps of her new, unfamiliar helmet.  "Yes, this is Reese.  Reese, this is my brother, Atin."

He watched as she tried to fluff her hair, a gesture he'd seen often in their few days together.  He hadn't yet decided if the move was to calm herself or to primp.  Either way, he found her movements endearing.

"Hello, Atin," she said in her smoky voice.

He saw the other man's eyebrows raise as he took in the woman standing before them and the men shared a glance. Brand knew he was going to be spending time explaining the guest he'd brought with him.  Even though Atin had run the check on her, Brand had never spelled out exactly why he needed the information, figuring the Milosevic connection would satisfy his brother's curiosity.

"Welcome, Reese," Atin replied, his voice almost a caress.  Brand felt a sharp jolt at the sound of her name on his brother's lips.  "Let us go inside where it is cooler and much less dusty."

Reese's eyes moved to Brand's and he nodded, waving her forward to take the lead up the steps.  As the three moved, Atin caught Brand with an elbow to the ribs.  "Why are you always the lucky one?" he asked quietly in the old language.  He received a sharp tap between his shoulders in reply.

 It took a few moments for Brand's eyes to adjust to the dim of the room but when they did, he saw a feminine figure posed in the arched doorway of the dining area.  "Vana," he said and raised a hand in greeting.

"Brandimir," came the soft well-met reply, although the figure didn't move.  His eyes followed Atin's moving body as the other man made his way to the woman.  He caught a few of their soft words, spoken in their native language and realized Atin was trying to soothe her in advance of meeting Reese. 

And, with another jolt, Brand remembered that Vana and Nadia had been as close as he was with Niko and Atin.  Of course meeting Reese would be an unwelcome shock and Brand was kicking himself for not realizing it before bringing his girl to the ranch.

"Is there a problem?" Reese had moved to where he stood and was now pressed lightly to his side, worry evident in her eyes.  "I don't understand what they're saying, but I'm getting she doesn't want me here."

Brand's arm looped around her shoulders and he bent his head.  The last time he was here, Vana's English was not very good, but those skills may have improved in his time away.  He didn't want to embarrass Atin's woman in her own home, but felt his girl needed to understand a bit of what was happening.

"I do not think they get a lot of visitors, draga," he started.  "And probably not a lot of other women, especially wearing a fake hawk as their hairstyle."  He caught her small grin at his words.  "Vana had a rough childhood and is shy.  You must treat her with care, yes?"

Reese's head turned toward the other woman, and Brand watched her face become gentle before he heard her speak.  "Absolutely."

He straightened and allowed his eyes to move around the room noting the changes in the furnishings.  Things must be going well for the young couple and Brand was glad for them.  He felt Reese's hand on his t-shirt tugging and he bent again.

"Is he the asshole who beat her?" she asked, her voice tight.

Brand pulled back with a frown.  He glanced at Vana but saw no bruises or visible scars, nothing to give Reese a clue as to what the woman had gone through as a child.

"No, Reese.  Not Atin.  Ever," he said firmly.  "It happened a very long time ago."

"Well, whoever it was sure as shit screwed her up," she said before her whispering voice turned fierce.  "I hope to god someone killed the bastard."

Brand's eyebrows hit his hairline at her words.  So, his little beauty had experience with abuse, and her fierceness indicated it was first hand.  "You were beaten?"

"Not as much as Mama, but yeah," she admitted and he watched a flush roll over her skin.

Brand considered her words.  "Your father?"

"Yeah, and my brothers but only if they had been drinking," she confessed.  "Mama and I would hide, but they always found us even when they were falling down shit-faced."

"Louis?" he ventured, sliding his hand down her back to pull her closer.

"Not a beat-down, but he liked to slap me around some when I let him know I didn't like his hands on me."  Her eyes wouldn't meet his, and he realized what her confessions were costing her in the pride arena.

He mentally added four more items to his list of things- to- resolve as he kept his burning rage at her admissions tight inside. 
Each and every one of those that had raised a hand to her will pay
, he vowed.  And, together, they would find a way to take care of her majka, her mother.