# # #
Mim squeezed the blood from my fingers, her grip tight, while she led me across the lawn, a garden shovel tucked into the back pocket of her shorts.
“What are we doing here, sweet pea?”
She shot me a fretful glance and tugged my hand to hurry me. When we reached the willow tree at the edge of the grass, she squatted, then started to dig.
I sat next to her, checking over my shoulder. Dane trailed behind, his movements slow and careful, the scowl on his face more beautiful than ever. He now boasted two bullet wounds. One on his right thigh, a flesh wound, the other his left pectoral.
He was a walking miracle as far as I was concerned. The doctors had agreed.
Mim dug. Dane made his way to my side, hands in his pockets, brows furrowed.
The dirt was loose, and it didn’t take long for Mim to find her treasure. A small puzzle box. She brushed off the dirt, turned to sit on my lap, then handed the box to Dane.
I wrapped my arms around the sweaty little angel and rested my chin on her shoulder.
Dane lifted the lid. Dropped his head. Huffed. Quirked a brow at Mim, then lifted a rusty silver chain out of the box. At the end of the chain hung a heart-shaped locket and a key.
“Let me see that.” I swallowed the ball of emotion in my throat.
He passed the necklace over, and offered a hand to Mim, raising her off my lap and pulling her to stand at his side, holding her possessively against his leg.
“I gave my sister this locket when she graduated.” I never thought I’d see it again.
I popped the clasp, my heart swelling with nostalgia when I found the picture inside. Mickey and me, laughing. Probably at some bad joke Mom had told.
“I’m sorry,” came a soft, sweet voice. Pure innocence and beautiful bravery.
Dane and I locked gazes, and I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped. Mim curled into his thigh, burying her face as if ashamed.
“Sorry for what?” Dane asked, voice raspy, thick with emotion.
Mim turned to look at me. “I should have told him where I hid the necklace. Then he wouldn’t have hurt anybody.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I choked out. “None of that was your fault.”
Eyes filling with liquid, she blurted, “Mommy said I could never tell anyone about the key. She said I had to keep it safe. She said I couldn’t talk to grown-ups, ever, or they might find our treasure.”
“Treasure?” I wanted to reach for her, pull her close, but I feared I’d break into sobs and halt her confession.
“We found treasures every day.” Mim stretched her neck to meet Dane’s eyes. “Mommy put it in our box to keep safe. But then the bad man came.”
“Hammer was the bad man?” His name soured my tongue.
Mim nodded. “He used to be nice when he came to see Mommy. He used to be nice to her and give her money and other stuff to put in our treasure box.”
Puzzle pieces clicked into place. “Mim, did your mom hide the box from Hammer?”
Mim nodded again.
“Where did she hide the box?”
“At the storange fatuity,” she said the words with such confidence I bit my lip to stifle the laugh.
“The what?”
“The orange place.”
“Storage facility?” Dane asked.
“Yes.” She sighed as if irritated by our questions. “Hammer got mad. He hit Mommy a lot, and we tried to hide. The other bad man who worked at the orange place said he would keep us safe. He took us to his house and gave Mommy medicine. Then he put me in the hole. Mommy didn’t help me. Sometimes she cried on the floor and asked him to let me out. But he only let me out when he wanted to play. And Mommy was always asleep. She couldn’t hear me crying.”
Every word out of her mouth gouged my heart, and I couldn’t bear the stoic gaze on her face while she spoke of her abuse.
“Mim.” I pulled her into my arms and held her close, my own limbs trembling, my veins ice cold despite the summer heat.
I looked to Dane for help because I wasn’t sure how to navigate the conversation, to protect her from revisiting those horrors.
Eyes red-rimmed, cheeks blazing, he cleared his throat, wiping moisture from his face with the back of his arm. “Why did you bury the necklace, Little One? Don’t you want to wear it?”
“Rocky said we should bury it because I couldn’t say goodbye to my mom,” she mumbled into my hair, her arms cinched around my neck. “He helped me have a funeral.”
“Oh, baby.” I kissed her cheek. “I think we should bury it again. Don’t you?”
Mim pulled away from me, searching my face. “Would my mom like that?”
“She would.”
Arms coiling, she burrowed her face in my hair. Dane slipped the key off the chain and tucked it in his pocket. He then handed the box to me. I laid it in the hole. Mim shoveled the dirt, burying her necklace once again.
Then Dane tugged a knife out of his back pocket and lowered to his knees. He winced, but valiantly hid the pain from Mim. Then that big, beautiful, beast of a man carved a cross into the trunk of the tree. Below the cross, he carved a heart with my sister’s initials.
“How’s that?” he asked, tapping Mim under the chin. She smiled. He smiled. And the world seemed right again.
With a grunt, he rose to full height and tugged on my little angel’s braid. “I love your voice, Little One.”
That beautiful, brave girl kissed his thigh, and with the sweetest utterance I’d ever heard said, “I love you, Dane.”
Voice gruff, more grizzly bear than man, Dane responded with, “I love you, too.”
That exchange already had me in tears, but when she tossed a smile my way and blurted, “And I love you, Auntie MoMo,” I lost my composure and sobbed.
“I love you, too, baby girl. So, so much.”
Dane shot me a wink, then tapped Mim on the head. “I’m getting sleepy. Need to lay down. Maybe you can read to me?”
She took off running. “I’ll go pick the book!”
Dane grabbed my hand. Snorted. “Auntie MoMo?”
“Fuck yeah.” I laughed, swiping at my face.
He slapped my ass and chuckled. “That’s my girl.”
Dane
“There’s my girl.” I sighed, struck dumb by the sight of her.
“You’re back,” Moriah said, breathy and so God damn sweet.
Fuck, she was beautiful, standing in the hallway. Hair down, my Ride or Die T-shirt falling off her left shoulder. Those bare fucking feet.
Two weeks had been too damn long to be away from those ladies who owned my heart.
“I’m back.” My keys hit the floor. My bag followed suit.
She leaned against the wall, glass of wine in one hand, a book in the other. “Successful trip?”
Off with the boots. “We got her. She’s with Lettie right now.”
“It went well?”
Better than I’d expected. And what do ya know? Those child-pimping bastards had put up a fight and had to be taken down. Two broken noses, one snapped clavicle, three stab wounds, and one torched van later, they were left for the cops to find, along with enough evidence to put them away for thirty years minimum. “Smooth as silk.”
Moriah leaned her head against the wall and lifted the glass to her lips, those sleepy eyes assessing and heavy with worry.
What a great, God damn boost to the ego knowing someone cared that I made it home safe.
Eliminating the distance between us, I hooked an arm around her waist, and teased her with a peck on the cheek. “Mim sleeping?”
She shook her head against my shoulder. “Just kissed her goodnight.”
God damn, she smelled like berries. And when she turned to face me, that heady gaze meeting mine, swear to Christ, I died a thousand deaths and came back a better man each time. When I leaned down for the kiss I’d craved, she moaned, leaning into me.
That ass filled my hands, and I squeezed before giving those soft cheeks
a hard slap. “Get naked and get in bed, gorgeous. I’ll be right there. Got something to show my angel.”
Moriah went soft and pliant in my arms, and I took her full weight, so damn happy for something solid to hold.
She smiled, gutting me, then righted herself and downed the rest of her wine in one swallow, a playful lilt to her grin. I watched her saunter down the hall, then went back to my duffel and pulled out the box. When I cracked the door to Mim’s room, she lay curled on her side, hands tucked under her cheek, eyes blinking open at the sound of the door.
“Dane!” she squealed.
Knocked me dizzy every damn time, that voice more powerful than a bullet to the chest. That little lady sprang from the bed and wrapped around me in one graceful leap. I hoped she would never tire of my ugly mug.
Clutching her small body, I lowered my ass to the bed. “Guess what I found?”
She pulled her face away from my neck, her tiny hands braced on my shoulders, wise eyes searching mine. “What?”
I handed her the box.
“My treasure!” With a penetrating shrill, she wiggled off my legs and slid to the floor with a thunk. That sweet little angel hugged the tin rust bucket to her chest like it was the most precious gift, looked at me, then the lunchbox. Me. The box. That dazed and amazed expression raised me higher than the clouds, made the extra day away from my girls worth every miserable second.
The storage facility had been easy to find, especially with Tito’s help. And what do you know, that damn key of Mim’s had fit the shitty lock. When we’d lifted the gate, my heart had damn near oozed out of my chest and dripped to the floor. In the center of that cold, vacant room lay a pile of dirty blankets, a small stack of tattered children’s books, one dead flashlight, bloody rags, a box of bandages, and a God damn treasure chest in the form of a Scooby Doo lunch box.
That strong little girl had lived through hell, and still, she’d been the one to pull my pathetic ass out of the grave I’d dug.
“You gonna open it or what?” I grumbled, hoping to hide the lump in my throat.
I’d cleared the box of its other contents. Money—dirty, no doubt. And yes, every cent would go to Mim. She’d earned it. I’d also found three thumb drives, each containing records of club dealings, none of them legal. Evidence that could put every member, including myself, away for life.
Mim lifted the lid. As if afraid to disturb their resting place, she dusted a finger over the pieces of broken glass, colorful rocks, bottle caps, and a tattered feather, giving each item equal attention. When she pulled a rusty old hex nut from the box, holding the filthy thing between her small fingers, her breath hitched. She pushed to her feet, and bounced my way, stopping between my knees, and twisting the damn thing back and forth in my face.
“What’s this, Little Lady?”
“Your ring.”
“My ring, huh?”
“Rocky said when you love somebody, you give them a ring, and they’re yours forever.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yours forever?”
Lips curled between her teeth, she lifted those sleepy eyes to mine. “Now you have to be my daddy. This is your daddy ring. And you can never take it off.”
Daddy. God damn. That word had always soured my stomach. Coming from Mim, so innocent, so trusting?
Sweet fucking mother of mercy.
My eyes burned. Chest ached. I blinked away the blurry vision and pulled my saving angel tight against my chest.
Seconds passed before speech was possible. “With or without the ring, I’m yours forever, Little Lady. I’ll always protect you. Always love you.” I cupped her cheeks. Kissed that little nose, then her forehead. “Best present ever, baby girl.”
Mim giggled, scrunching her face, and swiping my beard away.
She dropped the nut into my hand. “It won’t fit on your finger.”
“I’ll wear it around my neck, so it won’t get dirty when we’re working on your bike.”
Her smile hit the megawatt mark. My guts? Hell. No describing what happened to my insides. All I know? I was a new man. Resurrected.
And God damn, if she wanted me to be her daddy, I would reinvent the word.
# # #
Wasn’t shocked to find Moriah in the tub instead of the bed. She liked her bubbles. I liked her naked. So, bed or bath, all the same to me. I clicked the lock, shucked my gear, and made a mess sliding behind her into the perfumed suds.
Whatever scent filled the room reminded me of cookies fresh from the oven, making my empty gut rumble.
“Was that your stomach?” She laughed, settling her back against my front, her ass on my thighs, feet bracing my knees, her knotted hair hitting me from every angle.
Shifting, I tilted her head, then tasted that spot behind her ear that always made her shiver. “I’m starved. Rushed home. Didn’t stop to eat.”
“There’s roasted chicken in the fridge.” Pliant, she offered more of her neck. “Mim made a plate for you.”
“Mmm. Sounds good.” I sucked her earlobe between my lips, nibbled, then got busy feeling her up, sliding a hand over her slippery chest, handling one glorious tit before giving its rosy bud some attention. “Need you first.”
Arching into my ministrations, she snapped a hand around my neck and moaned, rubbing that slippery ass against my steel hard cock, a delicious tease, an invitation. Desire became desperation, and I pressed a hand between her shoulder blades, urging her to bend forward. When she complied, I lifted those hips, positioned my dick, then slammed her down, that tight, slick core devouring every inch of my flesh.
I growled a slew of profanities before pulling my shit together and stifling my urge to flip her over the side of the tub and fuck her into oblivion.
Moriah stilled, her body vibrating, acclimating to the sudden fullness. In those quiet, suspended seconds, anticipation a slithering entity, she filled me, too, with need, want, hope, peace. Certainty. Moriah was the poison in my veins, my sweet addiction, a turbulent storm. She was the antidote, my sobriety, a cool, calm breeze.
And damn, she was killing me.
“Fuck me, gorgeous.” Digging my nails into her soft flesh, I trembled, my hunger rampant and teetering on the edge of dangerous. “This is gonna be quick. Ride my cock. Make me come, baby.”
My lady took over, her trembling fingers curling around my shins, her body rising and falling, rocking and grinding, thrashing in my lap, a water churning frenzy that lasted torturous seconds before I blew my load inside her silky grip, coming like a fucking teenager, fast, fierce, and self-serving.
Soon as blood flow returned to my brain, I flipped that sexy siren around, claimed her mouth, then worked her clit like my life depended on hearing her moan in pleasure. Mouths fused, she fucked my hand, body arching and bowing, chasing her release. With heavy breaths, and more splashing, that woman came undone, her teeth sinking into my shoulder, body vibrating, and fuuuck I could’ve played her like that for hours.
Collapsing against me, she whispered, “Missed you.”
“Ditto.” I leaned my head back to get a good look at that sleepy, sated face. Pink cheeks, fresh kissed lips. The woman was mine. No doubt. But damn, I still had a hard time believing my luck. Which reminded me…
I couldn’t help the smile.
“What?” Moriah tugged on my beard.
“Had a meeting with the club.”
Worried eyes met mine.
“Prez wants me back. Said the club needs me now that Hammer’s gone.”
I stopped her protest, pinching her lips closed, making her laugh. “I told him no, of course. He tried to tell me I didn’t have a choice.”
Like I’d stuck her with a pin, she deflated, making to move away. No fucking way would I let her off my lap. One hand at her neck, the other her lower back, I held her still, holding her gaze.
“Thing is…Moretti hands him the thumb drives we found with Mim’s treasure box.”
“Thumb drives?”
I nod. “
Hammer had been busy stealing from the club. Also collecting evidence, most likely to cover his ass if he ever got caught.”
Moriah tensed. She didn’t speak a word, but I could hear the questions tumbling around that brain of hers.
“Cool as a fucking cucumber, Moretti tells Prez, ‘You already know what these are, otherwise you wouldn’t have been looking for Hammer. Reynolds is no longer a Slayer. No hard feelings. No retaliation. Got me?’ His unspoken threat hung in the air, and I thought for sure he was dead. Swear to fuck, Prez’s face turned five different shades of red, all the while he’s glaring at me. He takes his sweet fucking time lighting up a hand-rolled. Takes two slow drags. Then nods at me. Fucking nods, like he’s conceding. Gives Tito a quick glance, then warns me never to step foot in Montana again.”
“And?”
“And nothing. That’s it. I’m free.”
“You’re out?”
“Out.”
“For good?”
“Looks that way.”
Lips pursed, she curled her arms around my neck, smashing those beautiful tits between us. “Does that mean no more bad boy?”
“Gorgeous.” I slammed my hands to her ass, ground my hips, just enough to make her squirm. “I’m as bad as they come.”
Moriah sighed, her arms dropping, spine straightening. Again, with those fingers curling into my beard, stroking. All the playful lust disappeared from her face while she stared, the sudden mood shift making me twitchy.
“What is it?”
Her fingers twisted in my facial hair, then tugged, pulling me closer, her lips grazing mine before she whispered, “You’re the best person I know, Dane Reynolds.”
My chest swelled, a painful, unfamiliar expansion, the room, the tub, hell, my skin shrinking, my ego stretching the boundaries of the universe. Words had never held much power. Yet there I sat, surrounded by bubbles and Moriah, and…fuck yeah…smelly candles, too, and her eight little words brought me back to that hungry little boy I once was, starving for a compliment, a reinforcement, a pat on the head, hell, even a, “Hey kid, how was your day?”
Those eight words, strung together, combined with the shimmer in her eyes, and the blush under those freckles, decimated the years of abuse and neglect, because they never would’ve mattered coming from anyone other than that fucking beautiful woman sitting naked in my lap.
Truck Stop Titan Page 25