Conceal (The Barker Triplets 3)
He waved in the general direction of the crowd on the street—and was rewarded by squeals and cheers—as he exited the loft. Beau smiled, gave another wave and then headed for his bike, which was parked next to the main garage that Logan used. Another outbuilding, the garage was several feet away and hid most of the main house from the street.
He entered the building and immediately spied Logan and Shane in the far corner. The two men were deep in conversation and they turned as Beau approached.
“Are we all set?” Beau asked.
Logan nodded. “You’re sure Betty’s okay with this?”
No.
“Yeah, she’ll be expecting me.”
It was an outright lie, but the boys didn’t have to know that.
Beau grabbed the bottom of his bright orange Oregon Beaver T-shirt, a favorite of his, and pulled it over his head. He handed it to Shane, who pulled it on while Beau slipped into a plain white T-shirt.
The men were of similar build and Beau was hoping they’d be able to fool the paparazzi long enough for him to get away. He couldn’t do much about the fact that Gallagher’s hair was a lot darker, but the helmet and glasses should help.
They’d be looking for the orange Beaver’s T-shirt and by the time they realized it wasn’t Beau on his bike, he’d be long gone.
He handed Shane his aviators, but Shane held up a pair of his own and smiled.
“I appreciate this,” Beau said with a nod.
Shane laughed. “No problem. Anything for a Pirate.”
“Pirate?” Beau asked.
“Angry Pirate. That’s the team name.”
Beau looked at both men. “You guys know what an Angry Pirate is?”
“Yeah,” Logan said with a chuckle. “Trust me, we didn’t when the team was named.”
Shane pulled Beau’s helmet on and tossed Beau the keys to Shane’s Harley. It was a beauty. A restored ’69 Shovelhead.
“Take care of my machine.”
Beau stood back and whistled. “Will do.”
The plan was for Shane to take Beau’s bike and ride around back where there was a secondary lane that led out to the side street. Two of his security detail would follow and hopefully that would be enough for the paparazzi—they’d think it was Beau. As long as no one noticed that the hair was a few shades darker.
If the paparazzi followed, then Beau would drive Shane’s bike out the front driveway and head off to The Grill, where he
knew Betty had just shown up for her Sunday shift.
“Jesus, is this what your day to day is like?” Logan asked as he glanced out the small window beside the door. “How the hell do you do it?”
There was a time when Beau used to ask himself the same question. Now?
“I’m used to it, I guess. It’s not always this crazy because most of the time my environment is controlled. The Betty Jo thing kind of hit this one out of the ballpark. I’m sorry for all this,” Beau motioned toward the street. “But I’ll be out of your hair soon, I promise.”
“Good to know,” Logan said slowly. “This thing with Betty…she’s…” Logan looked as if he was searching for the right words. “She might act real tough. Hell, she might have you believing that everything rolls off her shoulders like oil on water, but I gotta tell you, she’s not. I’ve known all three of these girls for most of my life. They’re all complicated creatures, but Betty? She’s an entirely new level of complicated. I don’t know what her deal is, we’re not exactly tight, but I do know she’s not nearly as tough as she seems. She’s not nearly as tough as she wants everybody to believe.”
Beau thought of the night before and gave a curt nod.
Logan shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. “Like I said, we’re not real tight. Hell, her and Billie are going through something right now….I have no idea what it is and I’m fine with staying out of it. But she’s still family and I gotta look out for her.”
It was a warning.