But that was nobody’s business but mine. “You gonna be like this all night, Freddie Kruger? ’Cause I got no problem hitching a ride back to Whisper Springs.”
Tucker’s voice came over our earpieces. “You twats about done? Blue Lincoln. On your five.”
A Navigator rolled into the dark lot, lights off, windows black.
“Flashy fucker,” Tito growled. “I’m gonna enjoy taking this guy out.”
Tucker lit his phone and flashed three quick beams, luring the target to his vehicle.
Tito and I waited in our car parked at the opposite end of the lot. The clock read 1:17 AM. My stomach knotted, pulse raced, and when a young girl, who couldn’t have been older than eleven or twelve, stumbled out of the SUV wearing a dress that barely covered her ass, and heels too unstable for her skinny legs, that damn organ in my chest pummeled my ribcage something fierce. The kid was an older version of what Mim might’ve been. A younger version of what Addy had become.
The girl swayed, struggling to stay upright, her head lolling to the side.
“Fuck. They drugged her. Fuck!” Tito pounded the steering wheel.
Tucker’s jagged breaths crackled through the earpiece.
I was seconds from going nuclear myself. “Why aren’t we dangling this guy from his balls already?”
“I knew you were the right guy.” Tito shifted in his seat, rage rolling off him like a heavy fog.
“Shit,” Tucker roared. “She’s not gonna make it to my rig. Change of plans.” His door flew open. He skipped the vehicle’s side step entirely and landed with impressive form before sprinting toward the girl, shouting, “Cover me. Cover me.”
“Motherfuckers!” Tito retrieved the blade from his boot, and ripped from the car, sprinting at full speed across the lot.
My feet hit the pavement at the same time the child crumpled.
Up ahead, a large figure erupted from the Lincoln. “Leave her!” he shouted, strutting in Tucker’s direction, gun raised, a cocky stride to his steps.
Ignoring all threats, Tucker fell over the girl, blocking her small frame with his massive shoulders.
The pimp pointed the gun Tucker’s direction and hurried his pace. “Back the fuck away.”
Tito struck before the guy aimed, the two men falling into a tangled ball on the ground.
The passenger door of the Lincoln opened just as I rounded the rear. A skinny shit with a shaved head stepped in front of me, struggling to pull something from the back of his baggy jeans. A throat punch took him down. A kick to the skull ensured he’d stay horizontal. I cleared the vehicle for threats, and by the time I’d reached Tito, the other guy lay bloody and unconscious at his feet.
Tucker hauled the child off the ground, her head and limbs hanging limp. “She breathing, but she needs a hospital.”
“Go. Go.” Tito motioned toward Tucker’s hidden truck. “We got this.”
Tucker turned and disappeared into the dark lot.
“Ready for some fun?” Tito asked, squatting next to the shithead on the ground.
I nodded, jonesing for blood.
“Go grab the sedan.” He tossed me the keys. “There’s rope in the back.”
After binding those child peddlers tight and packing them in the trunk of our stolen vehicle, we headed to the on ramp, my mind heavy with thoughts of Mim and what-could-have-beens.
“You saved another kid tonight. Another life. How does that feel?”
Up ahead, the freeway blended with the dark, cloudless sky. “Feeling twitchy, you want the truth.”
“You’re feeling that way ’cause there hasn’t been any closure yet. I mean, the girl is safe. But that’s not enough, right?”
Not sure where he was going, so I grunted.
“You see”—Tito tapped his thumbs to a rapid beat on the steering wheel—“these fuckers won’t stop unless we take them down.”
“Okay.”
“Tucker doesn’t want anything to do with that side of the business.”
Didn’t surprise me. Fucking good ol’ American boy.
“We got deep-seated issues, you and me. We need to make them pay. Make them bleed.” He threw me a sideways glance, brow hitched. “Am I wrong?”
“No.” Nothing better than bringing down your enemies. “The bloodier, the better.”
“I knew we’d be on the same page.” He rolled into the lot of a run-down motel. The sign read, SWEET CREEK LODGE, but there was nothing sweet about the property. The L-shaped, two-story building needed a new roof. The siding had long since served its purpose. Two windows were boarded with warped wood tagged with graffiti. The only bright spot was the red neon NO VACANCY sign hanging in the office window.
Tito threw the vehicle into park, hung his arms over the dash, and pointed to the neglected building. “The owner lets it slide, all the girls passing through these rooms. I suppose he gets a cut. Every day before he leaves, he deletes the security footage.” Tito pointed out five different areas on the lot, each where a camera was perched. “I bypassed his feed two weeks ago. That footage is on its way to the Feds.”
“That’s it?” I rolled my stiff neck. “You do all that work, then trust the Feds to handle shit?”
“No.” His chuckle made me shiver. “Room six is where they filmed the girls. Brokered their deals.”
“Jesus H Christ.” The videos playing in Wilson Kyle’s cabin came to mind, the memory of Mim in that dirt hole flooding me with unholy rage. “And?”
“Room six is where we’re taking them down.”
Thank fuck. “We ghosting them?
“No. Promised Tuuli and Aida, no more killing.”
“Then why the fuck are you wasting my time?” I needed to bloody some bastards, my nerves stretched beyond their limit. I reached for the door handle, stopped when Moretti slammed another blade in my lap.
“Trust me. By the time we’re finished, they’ll wish they were dead.”
# # #
“You need to start using the doorbell.” Moriah’s voice sliced through the dark, a little angry, a lot broken, and the sweetest damn sound to ever reach my ears.
When I sat beside her, she flipped on the mattress, offering her back and pulling the sheet up to her chin.
Couldn’t blame the woman. I deserved far more than the cold shoulder. And I’d take any verbal lashing she threw my way, as long as there was skin to skin involved. I slid under the soft sheet, and pulled her flush, settling that perfect ass against my groin.
“You need to leave, Dane.” Her command held little weight when she snuggled closer.
“Not leaving.” Nose buried in her damp hair, I took my fill of her piña colada scent. “I missed you.”
Her chest rose and fell. “Three days. Not one word from you.”
Because I was a chickenshit. “I know.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
Fuck. I sucked at apologizing. “Had shit to do I couldn’t tell you about.”
“Illegal shit,” she mumbled into the darkness and wiggled away from my touch.
Feeling the sting of rejection, I rolled to my back and roughed a hand over my head, rubbing the dull ache. “I’ve never lied to you about who I am.”
“No, you haven’t, and I accept that, but this disappearing act? Not acceptable.”
Tension threatened to crack my chest, and damn if I’d let that fissure spread. I’m sorry, were the words she needed, and the very words I couldn’t form. Grasping for straws, I asked, “You mad at me?”
Pathetic, yes.
Too many seconds passed before Moriah spoke. “I don’t know. People keep warning me about you. What am I supposed to think? What am I getting myself into? I’m clueless here. We’re not even in a relationship, you know?”
“We’re not?” I asked, having no basis for argument.
Another long pause, then she whispered, “Are we?”
“I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
The mattress shifted, but I couldn’t
look her way, afraid of what I’d find.
“And that constitutes being in a relationship?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said to the ceiling. “I can only give you what I have to offer.”
“And all you have to offer is being here.”
“Yes.” And all of me. My body. My rage. My hunger.
“Dane. I told you I love you, and you disappeared.”
“I’m here.”
With a huff, Moriah wiggled free of the blankets, the bed bouncing under her defiance. Hard footsteps marched across the floor, light flooded the room, and my gorgeous woman, with her wild hair, ridiculous freckles, and killer curves, stood hands to hips, and glared. Until she took in the condition of my mug, the bruising now a dark purple, evidence of my fight with Tango.
Sympathy flashed across her face before her brows pinched. “Jesus. He really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
“It was long overdue.”
“What does that mean?”
“That’s between me and Tango.”
“Unbelievable.” She plucked my shirt from the floor and threw it at me. “Get out.” My jeans came next, whipping my face. “Get. Out!”
The pain shooting through my chest was unbearable. I threw the blankets back and dropped my feet to the floor, counting in my head, one, two, three, forcing the anger and frustration down. I rose, slow and steady.
Moriah stepped back, chest rising and falling, cheeks red, eyes wet. “I’m having your effin’ baby and I’m stuck with you, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with your bullshit.”
I stalked closer. “I’m here.”
She stood her ground. “You’ve said that. You’re here. But guess what? I’m here, too. I’m here with you. I’m here for you. I’m here when you aren’t. I’m here when Mim calls out for you at night.”
“What?” My head snapped back like I’d taken a punch.
“Yeah. She cries for you in her sleep. She was calling your name. And you were gone.”
“Shit.”
“So cut the bullshit. If you’re here, then effin’ be here. All of you. You hear me? All of you. I need words, Dane. I need to hear about your day. I need to know what’s going on in your head. I need to know if and why somebody beat the shit out of your face. I need to know why you disappear for days. And I need details. I don’t care how ugly they are. You can’t give me that, then get the eff out of my house, and give me back that spare key.”
Ultimatums pissed me off, and despite the fact I was in the wrong, I lashed back. “You want ugly details? You want my ugly details? Fine. Years ago, I helped my cousin drug Tango. I helped her because I hated that pretty boy motherfucker. What he had, who he had, what he stood for. Hated him. I helped Addy drug him, fuck him, make a God damn baby with him. Then I tried to take his girl.”
Moriah’s gaze dropped to my feet, then she raised her chin and met my glare. “That’s why he hates you?”
“Oh, no sweetheart, that’s not the half of it.” I slid a hand around her neck, then fisted the hair at her nape, holding her steady, giving her no room to flee. “Tango left. Slade didn’t want me. Addy found out she was pregnant with Tango’s kid. Know what I did? Not a God damned thing. I went on with my life while Addison fell apart. While my father and his sick fucking friends abused her. Blondie tried to save my cousin, despite knowing she was carrying Tango’s child, and she managed to save the baby. But Addy? She was too far gone. They hurt her, they killed her, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop them.”
“Who?” Her voice trembled. “Who killed her?”
“The club. My brothers. My sick fuck of a father.”
“Dane,” she whispered on an exhale.
“That’s only a sliver of my ugly. Want more?”
Her mouth formed, “Yes.” Her eyes pleaded, no.
“My father went after Slade. Tango took him down, but I killed him. Made him pay for what he’d done to Addison.”
Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and she mirrored my glare, feigning composure and failing. “That all?”
God, I loved her grit, despite her repulsion. “Not even close.”
Moriah stared right through me, chin high, challenging. I gave it right back, silently begging her to concede.
Thank fuck, she backed down, closing her eyes and whispering, “No more. I don’t need anymore. Not tonight.”
I kissed her wet lips, then let her go. “This is who I am, Moriah. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, but I’m not leaving. Not ever. Not letting the best thing that ever happened to me slip through my fingers.”
I yanked my boxers off the bed, stumbled into them, and then pulled my T-shirt over my head. “You love me now?” I asked, mocking—a defense mechanism, cruel and meant to hurt.
Moriah flinched, but didn’t take the bait. Instead, she asked, “Where are you going?”
“Mim wakes up calling for me, I’m gonna be there. I wanna hear her say my name. Want her to know she never has to be afraid again.” I slipped out the door, knowing I’d pushed too hard, revealed too much.
Hell, wouldn’t have surprised me if the police came knocking and dragged me away in cuffs after my confession. Would have been the smartest thing she could do.
Only, the police didn’t come. Mim called for me in her sleep, her voice an angel’s song, and I woke her from her bad dream, whispering promises in her ear, and I let her kiss my cheek, and rake her fingers through my beard, and fall asleep curled against me, clinging tightly.
I’d be her hero. I’d be her everything. Because…God damn my motherfucking, fucked-up life, I loved that kid, and her crazy aunt.
# # #
“Authorities have not confirmed whether these attacks are connected with the Rest Area Reaper, but they aren’t denying that whoever is behind this bizarre scene wanted to send a warning.” On the screen, the camera panned wide, showing a low-budget motel. “Three men were found bound, and strung from the ceiling, with the words CHILD RAPIST carved not only into their faces, but all over their bodies. One source tells us that evidence was found in the room linking these men to as many as seventeen missing persons reports, eleven of those missing persons being children under the age of fourteen. One of those missing girls was admitted to Hopstead General Hospital early this morning…”
“At first they thought the guy was only mugging truck drivers,” Moriah said, pulling the butterfly puzzle apart and dropping the pieces one at a time into the box.
Shame. It’d taken Mim and I three hours to put that one together.
“Mmm,” I grunted, lifting the beer bottle to my lips and taking a slow sip.
“Now they say the Reaper is targeting people involved in underage prostitution.”
“Yeah. I heard that.”
“If that’s the case, I hope that vigilante makes them suffer.” She closed the lid, sat back on the couch, and tucked her feet under her butt. “If I could meet that guy, I’d give him a hug.”
Shit. My chest. “So, you think what he’s doing is a good thing?”
“Yes. Don’t you? I mean, if what they say is true, and this man or woman is hunting child rapists and sex traffickers, then, hell yes. Make them suffer. Make an example out of them.”
Hadn’t expected that response from little Miss I Don’t Like the F Word.
“The violence doesn’t bother you?”
“Before Mim, I might’ve said yes. But now? I don’t know. Feels good knowing somebody hurt them back.” Moriah pointed the remote and shut off the big screen. “It terrifies me, thinking what could’ve happened to our little girl.”
Our little girl.
Moriah didn’t catch her slip, but I did, straight in the gut, and God damn I was about to suffocate on the sudden rush of feelings. I didn’t do feelings. Didn’t like them. So, I pushed off the sofa and made for the kitchen, biding time to pull my shit together.
I suffered no moral conviction. What Tito and I had done to those men was legally wrong, but I’d never felt so rig
ht, so justified in carrying out a violent act. That whole night had been euphoric, despite the gruesome nature. Knowing we’d saved another kid? Fucking fantastic. Only two days had passed, and I was already itching to do it again. For Mim. For Addison.
Hated to admit that Moretti had been spot-on. I was the right guy for the job. We were cut from the same cloth, both suffering the innate need to punish, to atone for past sins, to purge.
I wanted more. Only, I couldn’t move forward without bringing Moriah into the loop.
“Dane.” Her voice seemed far away.
I had to tell her. Had no choice. She wanted truth. All my ugly.
“You okay?” A warm hand landed on my shoulder.
I opened my eyes. Hands planted on the white marble, head hanging, I sucked in a sharp breath.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I grabbed my girl by the waist and hoisted her onto the counter, then stepped between her knees and gripped her hips. God, the way that soft flesh melded under my fingers drove me crazy. “What did they tell you about the mansion? Its purpose.”
“That it’s a safe house for troubled kids.”
“Nothing more?”
“No. Why?”
“The mansion. Tucker. Tito. Dr. Slade.” My throat constricted against the thick lump forming. “The Rest Area Reaper. They’re all connected.”
“What do you mean?”
I sucked in another breath, then blew out, “Tucker is the Reaper.”
Moriah snorted. Slapped my shoulder. Laughed. The twinkle in her eyes faded while she waited for me to concede.
“Is this a joke?”
I swiped at a freckle under her lip, studying her face, chin to brilliant, beautiful eyes, my breath catching. “No. Not a joke. Tucker did it on his own for years. Then he brought Moretti into the mix. Eventually Lettie and James got involved, using the mansion to rehabilitate the kids Tucker rescues.”
Brows worried, she waited for me to continue.
So, I did. Throwing everything on the table. “They brought me in last week.”
“Brought you in…how?”
Truck Stop Titan Page 20