Hiding in Plain Sight (6 page)

Chapter Six

Brand bit into the oversized burger, which had come in a paper lined plastic basket, the juices almost dripping off his chin.  As he reached for napkins, he glanced at the wind-blown beauty across the table from him.

They'd traveled for hours, eating the food he'd purchased for breakfast while still on the move.  Absolutely not stopping until their bladders, the gas gauge or their stomachs demanded it.  In spite of all the miles though, she still was a vision.  There was something about her big dark eyes and full lips, framed by all that amazing hair that captivated him.  Not to mention, even after all that time on the road, she still looked and smelled fresh, clean and good.

And it had too long since he'd had any of the latter in his life.

"We need to talk," he said around another mouthful of the succulent burger. 

"Yeah?" he heard her ask before she turned her eyes to the diner's window as she nibbled on a crisp, thin fry.

"Why did you leave this morning?" he asked slowly.

Her reply was a shrug as her eyes dropped to the burger she'd cut into quarters in order to fit in her hands.  "Just needed to be on the road, I guess."

He knew it was a bullshit answer but was willing to let her have her play on it, especially when he remembered being handed his ass in the hotel room the night before.

"Then why did you get on my bike so quickly?" was his next question.

"Uh, I thought I…" her husky, sexy voice trailed off.  He waited in case she was actually going to say something of significance.

"I saw them, too.  Before I turned around to get to you, I saw them," he said, finally, shoving the last bite of the tasty burger in his mouth and studiously wiping his hands and mouth on a napkin.  "The navy, four-door sedan, correct?"

"Uhm.  Yeah," she admitted and even with her face pointed down to her food, he saw the flush that spread across her cheeks.  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  She'd removed the hat and the ponytail when he'd pulled into the diner's parking lot, bending from the waist as she'd brushed out the long length.

Brand had wanted to take her on the spot, bent over, hair swinging or captured in his hands as he drove into her from behind.  The image of it, the very thought, had made him so hard, so fast, he'd almost become dizzy.

He pushed his now empty basket away and stretched his aching arms out along the seat back, his own gaze drifting to the window.  He was screwed and needed to figure out a way to salvage this, so no one's life, least of all his own, was in peril.

"We are not on the right road for where I need to be," he began.  Since she was so closed mouthed about her issue, he was unwilling to give her any information of what he was facing either.  "I need to make calls and I will need to go to North Platte to take care of some other business."

"Okay," she mumbled, dragging another fry through the dwindling mound of ketchup before she raised her eyes.

"Where were you planning to go?" he asked slowly.

Her eyes narrowed, which he'd come to know was the expression she wore when she thought hard.

"North," she replied before her eyes dropped again.

He sighed and resumed his gaze of the lonely road which ran in front of the diner.   "I am going northwest and will have to travel the interstate to make up for the time I have lost."

Her entire body stilled at his words.

He allowed time for it to sink in.  She got it.  He knew she was going to have to make a decision of either staying with him or making her way alone.  A decision that only she could make, which he'd determined was the only way to ensure she would stay with him.  Last night's tempest had only been the result of frustration with both her situation and loss of control.  In order to avoid the rough side of her tongue going forward, he was going to have to either word things differently so she thought she had a choice or actually give her choices to make.

Her attitude and sharp tongue was simply the result of her youth and inexperience.  At least, that was what he told himself.

She, too, pointed her chin at the window as she processed what he'd said.

"You are welcome to join me, Reese, if you wish," he offered on a low note.

He saw her eyes turn his direction while her head kept the same position, facing the window.

"Why?" she asked at last.

"Excuse me?"

"Why are you helping me, Bayco?" she repeated, only this time providing a direction for her somewhat general question.

"I do not know," he answered honestly.  Maybe it was the good food, or the fact that she was such a beautiful, mostly undemanding road companion, but he decided to add a little bit more truth to the mix.  "You need help and I am good at providing it.  So, until you figure out where you want to go or are willing to telling me the full story, I can keep you safe."

He dropped his eyes to the tabletop as he continued.  "I have had a lot of practice at keeping people safe."

He felt her gaze before he raised his head and got caught back up in it.  Her eyes searched his and he watched them soften, causing a deep throb within him before she spoke, quiet and soft, but firm.  "I'm running from a dangerous man.  A dangerous, bad man who will stop at nothing to get me back.  And,you were right, I've escaped and he's always found me before.  But I can't go back.  I absolutely cannot go back, Bayco.  Understand?"

He nodded.

"I'm so afraid, so fucking afraid of getting caught which is why I was on that road.  The big roads scare me and I really don't know what I'm doing.  But if you can keep me safe until I work out a plan, that'd be great."

He nodded again.  "This, Reese, I can do."

"Good," she said and he watched as a smile spread over her face.  She was beautiful, true, but when she smiled it was… it was heaven.

"We must make plans," he said, calling a halt to the desire that had sharply built inside him at both her words and that smile.  The waitress choose that moment to check on them.

"You folks doing okay, any desserts?" she asked with a bright smile.  Brand noticed she'd undone another button on her uniform and recognized the welcome in her eyes as she stared at him. 

"Just the check," he said, allowing his eyes to drop from the server's ample, exposed cleavage to Reese's face, which held a scowl.  The waitress and her ilk were plentiful and he'd partaken of them in the past, when the need arose, so to speak.  But they were nameless, faceless and almost without remembrance since he used them as a just another tool to get himself off.  In more than a few instances, he'd called himself all sorts of foolish for taking them up on their offers instead of just using his damn hand to find his release.  Sharing physical pleasure only made the holes within his heart ache, the loneliness more acute.  He needed no emotional ties since he'd learned that the severing of them could almost kill him at a soul level.

As he followed Reese out of the booth and snagged the check, he found another small piece of paper beneath it with the name of Lisa and a phone number.  It even had a heart dotting the 'I' in her name.  Brand was hard-pressed not to roll his eyes at the obvious come-on. 

He handed the helmet to Reese when they were next to his bike. 

"No, you take it.  My hat worked fine this morning.  At least since I learned to keep my head down," she explained as she pulled on the baseball cap and pulled her hair through before tucking the length of it into her jean jacket.  "So, where we goin'?"

"North Platte," he advised, slinging a long leg over before starting the engine.  "We, draga, are going to hide in plain sight."

He got another smile with his words and felt his knees soften as another part of him hardened.

"Sounds good," she said and, with a hand on his chest, she too seated herself, being sure to tuck firmly up against him.

He realized he was starting to enjoy the feel of her gripping him tightly with her arms and her beautiful thighs as they rode out and away from the lonely, little diner.

*.*.*.*.*

I was wrapped in a towel, trying to use it like a robe over a clean pair of panties, a stretchy shelf camisole and my exercise shorts while I kneed my way across the bed to Bayco.  He was only wearing a pair of boxer briefs underneath his own towel, his amazing chest and muscled arms on display.  I had taken another shower after another day on the road But as I'd been slathering myself with a dollop of my lotion, he'd called me into the room.

"We need to plan," he started.  Then I saw him close his eyes and regroup.  I sensed a tension radiating from him I hadn't felt before.  "I have a plan and want to get your ideas about it," he amended.

I glanced at the plastic bag he was gripping.

"You know how I said we would hide in plain sight?" he asked.

"Yeah, Bayco.  How could I forget?" I couldn't help feeling the tension seeping off him as I slid onto the bed, sitting tailor fashion before him.

"I need to buy another bike, and I was thinking that you would become a biker's girl," he said slowly, tightly.

I could feel my eyebrows rise at his declaration.

Me.  A biker chick.

Uhm, no. 

Not that they were bad, in fact a lot of them that I'd seen blow through our East Texan blip on the map were pretty damn awesome with their silver jewelry and elaborate hair that could fit under a helmet with incredible body art and makeup.  But I didn't think I could pull off that particular look.

They were bitches in the best sense of the word.  Nobody, and I mean
nobody
, messed with them in talk, deed or look.  In my mind, it was the women of the motorcycles who administered the pack justice of the club while the men just brawled whenever and where ever they were given challenge.

Bayco upended the bag and I saw a number of items roll out onto the sheet.  He had, once again, stripped the bed of its cheap motel bedspread, piling it into a corner of the room.

"Hair color?  In Cherry Red?" I asked, glancing from the box to him.  Actually there were two boxes of the same color.

"The clerk said for your length and thickness of hair, it would take two of them to color it," he said, before adding, "I will help you apply it."  And he picked up another package.

"Black eyeliner?" I asked, wondering how the gorgeous, half-naked man before me, the epitome of all things male, was able to cruise the aisles at the local drugstore and choose makeup and hair color for me.

"It is water-proof and will stay on all day," he said, using his finger to underscore the words on the packaging.

"What are these?" I asked, picking up what was probably twenty cellophane packs spread out on the sheets.

"Temporary tattoos," he replied.  I blinked when I heard the subtle sound of nervousness in his voice.

"Tattoos," I repeated.  He couldn't be serious.

"Yes, and enough so we can reapply them daily if needed," he explained before picking up the packages of some sort of thickening mascara.

"So you want me inked," I asked without making it a question. "Bay, I don't think I'm that kind of…"

"Yes, probably," he replied, speaking over me as he rummaged through the booty of the bag.  He'd even purchased me a pink tank top with the words: 'Bodacious Fruit' emblazoned across the chest in black glitter.

My mind was racing as I took in the sheer bounty spread between us.  I was going to have to change my looks to escape the clutches of
him
.  And this man, this stunning man before me, was going to help me hide and had made a healthy purchase to help me do just that.  I was stunned stupid, only able to blink and gasp at what he'd considered and then done.