Biker Brigade

Chapter 1

1

“Don’t be nervous,” Brett said, eyeing me from the driver’s side of his car, now parked in a driveway.

It felt familiar, his car. The sleek Viper had sped down the road, barely tolerating the speed limits. I should have felt a thrill at the sharp corners taken with fluid ease, but it was a comfort sitting in the leather seat next to Brett.

But then he had parked, and here I sat, like a twitchy twit.

“I’m not nervous,” I lied as I surveyed the modest two-story house in front of me. It was his parents’ house, and I was on the verge of attempting a mad dash to escape—though, for the life of me, I didn’t know why. I had talked to Lil Thompson, Brett’s mom, on the phone just days before. She seemed like a welcoming and loving woman. So, why was I jittery?

“Mars, you’re turning pink.” He smiled and slipped his hand into mine. “It’s amazing the way you can blush from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.”

I felt the heat spread, traveling along the route his eyes were taking. It was a curse to blush so fiercely, and it didn’t take much to set off the chain reaction. Being next to Brett was enough to keep me turning shades for days.

“Everything will be fine,” he said. “They’ll love you as much as I do.”

Maybe that was why I was nervous. What if they didn’t? What if they hated me? I doubt their opinion would sway Brett, but I liked my life without drama and turmoil.

I nearly snorted.

Drama and turmoil. That was exactly what life had been full of this past summer, and it wasn’t over yet. In three days I’d sit in the same courtroom as a serial killer—the same one that murdered Brett’s sister and nearly me, too.

“If we aren’t at the door in a minute, Mom will come out and knock on the window.”

“You get your impatience from your mom,” I stated.

The corners of his mouth kicked up. “I’m only impatient when it comes to you.”

Warmth continued to spread as I thought about last night, dashing through his apartment to find his bedroom before he could make good on threats he had made earlier that evening . . . threats that I didn’t mind in the least if he carried out. “At least you gave me a thirty-second warning last night.”

“The same goes for tonight.”

“But I’m staying here with your parents,” I said, confused. “You’re supposed to go home.”

“You’ll be sleeping in my old room,” Brett said, pointing to the far-left window near a tree with thick limbs. “Leave the window unlocked.”

“You’d climb a tree for me?” I asked, absurdly pleased at the notion. I’d never had a boy sneak into my room before. Although, Brett was no mere boy. And we were both past the thirty-year mark. “You could just walk through the door, you know.”

He shook his head. “I guarantee Mom will change the security code on the alarm.”

“She doesn’t trust you?”

“Not with you as a house guest.”

“But she has to know that we’ve already . . . you know.”

“Had s*x? Yes, I’m a lost cause. But it’s still not allowed under her roof.”

“So, you’re regressing into a naughty teenager?”

“Can’t regress if you never progress,” he said with a wink.

I smiled. He was incorrigible, and I loved him all the more for it. I wouldn’t argue if he wanted to climb a tree to spend the night with me. In fact, I’d welcome it. With being in a different state and sleeping under a different roof, his presence would be calming.

“What about the window? Won’t the alarm go off when I open it?” I asked.

“I’ll take care of that before I leave.”

At the sound of a sharp rap on the window, I jerked my hand away from Brett’s.

Brett rolled his window down and smiled up at the woman with hands her hips. It was the only portion of her I could see.

“Hello, Mom.”

“I’ve been waiting five minutes for you to come inside,” she said. A Texan accent laced her words.

“That long, huh? I thought for sure you’d break down after two.”

She tsked and playfully swatted his arm. “I’m not that bad. But I’m not going to wait a moment longer.”

Brett glanced over at me. “See, I told you.”

“What did you tell her?” Lil asked. “Don’t go spreading lies about me, now.”

“I’d never.”

“Come on out. I want to meet Mars.”

I steadied my breath and slipped my fingers around the door handle. By the time I opened the door and stood, I found myself tightly embraced by a petite woman with dark hair, decorated by a few silver streaks running through.

“Mars, this is my mom, Lil,” Brett said.

Lil pulled back to look at me. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I replied, feeling a hundred times better than I had mere minutes ago.

“Oh, you’re all red,” she said. “Not used to this southern heat, are you?”

Although the heat was on the unbearable side and had to be nearing three digits, it didn’t have anything to do with my current color.

“Come inside,” she urged. “I just made a pitcher of tea. We can get acquainted in the air conditioning.” She slipped her arms into Brett’s and mine, ushering us up the short walkway. Brett and I skirted the grass as she marched up the center. “You have to tell me exactly what you’ve been up to.”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Nothing?” she scoffed. “Then how did you get a bruise under your eye?”

I had to smile at the shorter woman hanging on to both Brett and me. I’m not a tall person—under average, if I’m honest—and I felt like a giant compared to her. Brett towered over both of us. What she lacked in height she made up for in snappy energy, which had me smiling as Brett scrambled for an excuse for his slightly battered state.

“You might as well tell her the truth,” I said.

Lil tightened her grip on my arm, hugging me to her side. “I like you already.” She turned to her son as he opened the front door. “Spill it. I sent you off with not a bruise in sight, and you come back lookin’ like a scamp.”

“You didn’t see me before I left.”

I thought Brett looked gorgeous, bruises and all. And it’s not that he had many; just a few that were turning ugly colors as they healed. His sexy, few-day-old beard covered most. The dark stubble was sinful. I loved the feel of it as it trailed along my body, both rough and soft at the same time, his lips smoothing over any lingering burn.

Brett stepped back and let Lil enter the house first. He nodded for me to go next. As I passed, he leaned in to whisper, “Don’t tell her about Fenwig’s. She’s been stressing over me ever since Eve died. I don’t want her to worry.”

I nodded and followed Lil into a prettily appointed living room. While most of the furniture was outdated by at least two decades, it was comfortable and bright. Perfect for a friendly home. A feeling of calm soothed my agitated nerves.

“Make yourself at home,” she said. “I’ll fetch the tea and we’ll have a nice chat. Brett can give you a tour and bring your bag inside a little later.”

“Thank you,” I said. Before I could sit on the closest chair, Brett whisked me over to the floral couch.

“It’s either here, or you’ll have to sit in the chair with me,” he said. “I guarantee I’ll have another bruise if Mom catches you on my lap.”

“Does that happen often?” I asked, settling next to him, his thigh against mine.

“The assaults or the catching?”

“Both.”

“Rare on both, but I foresee a great many bruises with you here.”

“I’ll kiss them and make them better,” I said.

He grinned, dipping his head to lightly touch his lips to mine. “I’ll hold you to that, sweet thing.” His arm curled around my shoulder, bringing me closer. Our breath mingled as his lips played softly, lingering. The scent that had intoxicated me upon first meeting Brett was enveloping me in its deliciousness. I took a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent of soap, spicy berries and sandalwood.

“Ow!” Brett yelped.

“No kissin’ in the house,” Lil said. “God help me, I knew I should have locked you up until you were thirty.” Lil settled into her chair and tossed a rolled newspaper onto the coffee table next to the pitcher of tea.

“Then I would have been released by now,” he countered with a wink.

I scooted away from Brett, not wanting to become prey to the newspaper.

“Oh, it’s not you, honey,” she said and nodded over to Brett. “This one had more hickies than acne as a teenager.”

I glanced at Brett and wondered why that piece of information prickled. He was once a teenage boy, probably as cute then as he is now. Girls were probably only too happy to sit on his lap and hoover his neck.

Lil leaned over and poured iced tea into a glass and handed it to me. “You must be thirsty in this heat. Drink as much as you want.”

I thanked her and took a sip, attempting not to cringe at the tongue-curling sweetness.

“So, now tell me about these bruises,” she said, eyeing me instead of Brett. “I know he won’t tell me, but certainly you wouldn’t leave a mother to worry.”

Oh, she was good. I flicked a glance at Brett. The silent plea was evident in his eyes. But I couldn’t just ignore Lil. I didn’t think she would let me, anyway. And once Brett left for home, it would be just the two of us. I could already foretell I was a goner. I had no backbone to go up against loving mothers.

“Well,” I began, only to be crushed against Brett, my head tight against his shoulder as he patted my back.

“She’s tired, Mom. I think she might need a nap.”

“It’s only eleven,” Lil said, casting a suspicious eye on the two of us.

I tugged away, straightening my hair from his manhandling. “I don’t need a nap. He’s just embarrassed,” I said.

“Embarrassed about what?” Lil asked.

Instead of telling her about the episode at Fenwig’s house only a few nights before, I decided on a different course. I knew he received at least one bruise from his encounter with T.

“He thought I was sleeping with his friend,” I said. “They used fists instead of words.”

Brett relaxed at my side; his hand squeezed mine.

“Just like your father used to be,” Lil tsked.

“Where is Dad?”

Lil glanced at the clock above the television. “He should be home any minute now. Decided to work only a few hours today since we have Mars here.”

“Oh,” I said in surprise. “He didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course he did. I told him to,” Lil said with an impish smile that I had a feeling was as natural to her as swatting Brett with a rolled newspaper. Her brown eyes, the exact same shade of milk chocolate as Brett’s, twinkled. “Oh, and lunch should be ready any time now.”

“What did you make?” Brett asked.

“Your favorite.”

“What’s your favorite?” I asked, feeling a twinge of concern that I didn’t already know. While Brett and I had known each other the entire summer, we had only been together for a total of two weeks of that time. Our relationship was like a lightning strike, fast and electric. It left me feeling thrilled yet nervous. I still didn’t know that much about him.

“Steak,” he said.

Lil tsked. “No, I made happy shrimp.”

Brett stiffened, his lips pressed together. “Sounds wonderful,” he finally said.

She stood. “I better go check on it. Why don’t you bring Mars’s suitcase inside and show her to your old room and then come to the kitchen. And no neckin’,” she warned.

As soon as Lil was out of view, Brett let out a breath and sunk into the couch.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Happy shrimp was Eve’s favorite, not mine.”

“Oh. Well, maybe she had a momentary lapse. I’m an only child and my dad will sometimes call me by his students’ names. Male or female, it doesn’t seem to matter when he’s got something on his mind. I’ve even been called Greek constellations.”

“I’m allergic to shrimp,” he said. “I nearly died from it when I was young. I don’t think she would forget something like that.”

“You might want to talk to her, then. I’m sure the upcoming trial is setting her on edge.”

Brett’s brow knitted. “Yeah.”

The front door opened, diverting our attention. Brett stood and crossed over to the man stepping through the door. They both smiled and quickly embraced. I stood and slowly maneuvered over to Brett and his dad as they said their hellos. They looked so much alike no one would doubt who this man was. Though, he was even larger than his son. Muscles that Brett had were lean compared to the bulging biceps Mr. Thompson had. Looking at his soiled, worn jeans and boots, I surmised he must work in construction of some sort. I internally sighed. If Brett took after his dad, I’d be fending off women for decades to come.

“Mars,” Brett said, stepping back to include me. “This is my dad. Dad, this is Mars.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Thompson,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. He took my hand but didn’t shake it. Instead, he clasped it between his and studied me for a moment.

“Call me Mike,” he said, releasing my hand. “We’re happy to have you here, especially Lil. She hasn’t talked about anything else for days.”

“Speaking of Mom, has she been feeling okay?” Brett asked.

Mike nodded. “Yes, but a bit tired with the trial coming up. She hasn’t been sleeping well.”

I slipped my hand into Brett’s and squeezed. “That explains it, then. Right?”

“Explains what?” Mike asked, kicking off his boots and storing them in the coat closet.

“Mom made my favorite for lunch,” Brett said.

“Steak?” Mike perked.

“No, happy shrimp.”

Mike frowned. “You’re allergic to shrimp.”

“I know. I was going to go talk to her, but . . .”

Mike shook his head. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll get this sorted. Why don’t you start up the grill, and I’ll see if I can get Lil to take a nap.” He took off toward the kitchen.

“Let’s go out the front,” Brett said, holding the door open for me. I cringed as I walked into a wall of heat. “Unless you’d rather wait inside where it’s cooler.”

“I’d rather be with you,” I said, ignoring the beads of sweat that were already forming on my skin.

I followed him around to the back of the house and onto a patio that looked more like an outdoor living space complete with a built-in grill. He led me to a cluster of thickly padded wicker chairs under a large umbrella.

“Why don’t you sit here,” he suggested.

“I can help.”

“It’s a gas grill. I’ll be done in a few seconds, and I’ll come sit with you.” He brushed the back of his hand lightly against my cheek. “You’ll burn to a crisp in this sun.”

“I burn to a crisp in any sun,” I said, taking a seat anyway. While Brett’s destiny looked like he would age well as the years drifted by, my destiny was to become a lobster. If I wasn’t blushing, I was burning.

I glanced over at the patio doors while Brett was busy with the grill. From a splash of sun filtering in through the windows, I could see parts of a kitchen and . . . I quickly averted my eyes. My heart squeezed tightly. Poor Lil. From the looks of it, Mike was doing his best to sooth his shaking, distraught wife.

They didn’t need me peeking in at them. I cleared my throat and focused on Brett, who seemed to be having problems with a lighter.

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“No, I think this lighter is dead. I’ll have to get another one from the kitchen.”

“I would wait a few minutes.”

“Why?” he asked but immediately understood as his gaze fell upon the window. He sighed and ran his hand over his face, but I saw the anguish before he wiped it away.

“Come sit with me,” I said, not knowing what else to say or do.

He plopped down next to me, the wicker chair suddenly looking delicate. “Come here,” he said, reaching a hand out.

I caught his offered hand and squeezed.

“Come here,” he repeated, pulling me to him.

“I’m not sitting on your lap,” I said. Although, by that time, I was already deposited on his lap with his arms firmly around my waist. “We’ll break the chair.”

“If it can hold my dad, it can hold us,” he said. “If not, I’ll buy a new one.”

His dad was big, but I doubted that he was the weight of both of us combined, especially since I still hadn’t lost those pesky extra pounds I’d been holding since . . . well, since forever. It was irritating. After being nearly killed several times, I’d have thought I’d be granted at least a few pounds loss by the scale gods. Several of those times involved running. And no money for food either. But not one pound gone.

“Why the frown?” Brett asked.

“No reason, but I doubt your dad is as heavy as us, even with all his muscles. What does he do, anyway? I figured construction. Am I right?”

Now it was Brett’s turn to frown, but I wasn’t sure why. “Yes, he and my uncle run a construction business together.”

“A family business? Did you ever work with them?”

“Enough times to learn, but also enough times to know it wasn’t for me.”

“So then you decided on law enforcement?” Which he no longer pursued thanks to a serial killer.

He nodded, but his frown remained. His arms tightened around me, pulling me further into him. When his forehead dropped onto my shoulder, I knew the time for talking was over. I cuddled in and ran my fingers through his short hair, down along his neck and back.

When I had first decided to come to Texas for the trial, I knew it was going to be hard. But I was only thinking of how seeing Annie would affect me. I hadn’t thought further than that. Brett was always so strong that I never once thought about how tough it would be for him.

I silently berated myself but stopped when I heard someone coughing. I shifted slightly to find a man coming around the side of the house. Brett groaned when he looked up. When I attempted to stand, Brett held me firmly in place.

“Stay,” he whispered.

I sat still, waiting for the man to make his way onto the patio. As he walked closer, I knew he had to be related. He was as muscular as Mike and as handsome as Brett, maybe even more so. Only a few years parted Brett and the newcomer, and I would have suspected they were brothers, but Brett had only had Eve as a sibling.

“Uncle Rand,” Brett muttered his greeting.

The man glanced at Brett, barely tilting his head in acknowledgement. His dark eyes flashed to me. “Is this Mars?”

I attempted to stand to shake his hand, but once again was tethered down by Brett’s arms. “Yes,” I answered, not bothering to struggle. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He scanned the length of me before giving a dismissive shrug and turning to walk away. When he disappeared through a tall wooden fence, Brett let out a long breath and loosened his hold.

“That’s your uncle?” I asked, wondering if I’d heard Brett right. “He’s . . .”

“A jerk.”

I wanted to agree, but really, I didn’t know the man and I didn’t think Brett needed the affirmation. “I was going to say he seems too young to be your uncle. I thought he was a brother at first.”

“I don’t have a brother.”

“I know.”

Brett sighed and dipped his head to my shoulder again. “He and my dad are fifteen years apart. Rand and I are only five years apart and were raised more like brothers than they were.”

“And yet you still call him uncle?”

Brett looked up. “It’s better than what I’d like to call him.”

I bit my lip to hold back the stream of questions. It didn’t seem as though Brett wanted to talk, and I wasn’t about to press. With the undeniable rift between them, it was only a matter of time before I figured it out for myself.

“What’s beyond the fence?” I asked, pointing to where Rand disappeared.

“A small house.”

“He lives here?”

Brett nodded. “He and Dad built it when Rand got divorced about a year ago.”

“Is that why he’s . . . cranky?”

“Promise me you’ll stay far away from him.”

“I don’t think that’s possible if he lives here.”

“Then promise never to be alone with him.”

I peered back at the fence, wondering again what had happened. But it didn’t matter. If Brett wanted me to stay away from his uncle, then I would. Rand’s greeting left much to be desired, and I wasn’t keen on being near him anyway.

“I promise.”

Brett smiled and leaned in.

I pushed back. “You can’t kiss me here. Your parents are right inside.”

“I think I’m old enough to kiss the woman I love wherever I want.”

Well, when he said it that way, who was I to argue. I wrapped my arm around his neck and dragged him into a kiss. When his tongue grazed mine, sending tingles down to my toes, I knew there were going to be many newspaper-induced bruises in the foreseeable future. But for now, we were clear.