Tito turned back to the computer. “Ingrid Holt died forty years ago. Your mother took her name. Her social security number.”
I watched in horror as his fingers battered the keyboard, his eyes scanned the screen, and a wall fell around him. Much like when he’d attacked the punching bag, he zoned out, the Tito I knew disappeared, and a man possessed took his place.
A disturbing silence blanketed the room. My stomach rolled, head buzzed.
“Tito. What’s hap—”
“Take her home, T,” Tito blurted without so much as a glance my way.
“No,” I protested. “This is my life—”
“Now, Tango!” he yelled, slamming a fist on the desk.
Tango hugged me closer, his voice low, a forced calm that wasn’t necessary, but appreciated. “Come on, Tuuli. Let’s leave him to it.” He scooted me out the door. It wasn’t until we reached his car that he offered a sympathetic grin. “It’s better to steer clear of Tito when he’s working.”
MY REFLECTION TAUNTED ME. I pursed my lips, turning my face this way then that, checking my teeth, the blade of my nose, the slant of my forehead. There was no denying I shared DNA with the woman who called herself Ingrid Holt. Same eyes. Same platinum hair. Same pert nose. Pouty lips. Porcelain skin. Petite frame.
I was the woman’s daughter, without a doubt. But who was Ingrid? Who was Eileen Grady?
What about my real father? Did he even know I existed? Would he have liked me? Hugged me? Driven me to school?
Slumping against the wall, I lowered my butt to the linoleum, the truths of my life settling into place with palpable click, click, clicks—Jeremy Carver was not my father. I was not the offspring of a hateful, abusive, child rapist. My whole existence, every vile detail, was a lie.
A soft rap hit the door. “Bunny. You in there?”
Wasn’t fair, really, how the warm, worried tone of Tito’s voice melted the icy wall I’d spent all night constructing. “How did you get in?”
“I still have my key. You didn’t answer when I rang the doorbell.”
I hadn’t heard the doorbell through the buzzing in my head, lost in my bubble of self-reflection.
“Can I come in?”
My insides vibrated, warming in anticipation. “I s’pose.”
The door swung open. Dark, scary, hooded Tito stepped across the threshold, eyes softening when they landed on me. “You haven’t returned my calls.”
“Haven’t felt like talking.” I forced spite into my words, though they sounded anything but mean. I tried to be angry, had every right to be livid, yet an air of liberation surrounded me, leaving me in an obnoxious state of bliss.
“Fair enough.” He joined me on the floor, shoulder to shoulder.
Fighting the urge to snuggle against him, I hugged my legs and rested my pounding head on my knees. “Where’s Miguel?”
“On his way home,” Tito said, voice laden with worry, and maybe regret.
“You didn’t hurt him again, did you?”
“No. Hell, no.” He inspected the bandage on his right hand, stretching then fisting his fingers, swelling evident even under the white gauze.
“You do that often? Beat up strangers for no good reason?”
“He grabbed you.” His offending hand landed on my knee. “I confronted him outside. He swung first. We talked it out after you left. There isn’t much more to explain.”
Men. Neanderthals. All of them.
“Did you check out the files?”
“Yeah.” His breaths quickened, his hand leaving my knee to scratch his jaw.
“And?”
A low groan rose from his throat. “Your brother collected enough evidence to put Jeremy Carver away for life.”
“Evidence?”
“Videos. Some of them dated ten years back.”
The temperature dropped twenty degrees, forcing a shiver. “The boys.”
“Yes. Boys.” Tito choked on his words, blanching.
“Oh, God.” I laced my fingers between his, my gut churning like a simmering pot of mud. “Please, tell me you didn’t watch.”
He didn’t answer, not verbally, but his whole body stiffened, shifting the air around us. “That’s not all.”
My nerves couldn’t take any more.
“He collected files on Erik Meyer, too. Recent transactions. Buying and selling children.”
“Stop.” I hugged my legs tighter. “I can’t hear any more. Not tonight.”
A warm arm came around me. Soft lips pressed against my head, lingering before he released a sigh. “Tucker has friends in the FBI. They’re meeting in the next day or two. Hell is going to rain down on that damn church, Tuuli. Your brother did a good thing.”
“He’s not my brother.” I wasn’t sure if that truth made me happy or sad.
“God, baby.” Like I weighed nothing, he pulled me across his lap, warming me with strong arms and the heady scent of his body wash. “This has got to be hard. What can I do?”
Tito never had to do anything but be present to make me feel better. A weakness on my part, or perhaps one of his super-strengths. “My whole life, Jeremy told me I was nothing. My only worth, my only purpose, was to make babies and to serve The Brotherhood. I never loved that man. But I always wondered why he hated me so much.”
“You deserved better.” He kissed my head. “So much better.”
Gah, this man.
Shifting, I straddled his thighs and pushed the hood off his head. His raw beauty stole my breath, and for a moment, I could only stare, struck dumb by the empathy lighting his hard features.
He moaned. “It kills me to see you hurting.”
The heat of him between my legs was almost too much to bear. I raised a finger to his scar, tracing the outline. “Oh, Grim. Don’t you see? I’m not hurting. I’m not sad. I’m free.”
His hazel eyes widened, glassy and full of awe as if he’d discovered the eighth wonder of the world, as if he were proud. “There’s my brave, beautiful girl.”
He stroked my hair, smoothing the strands between his fingers. His gaze moved from my shoulder to my chest, then traveled in a slow, appreciative gander up my neck, pausing for a moment on my lips before settling, eye to eye, like a weary traveler who’d just returned home. “Can I kiss you?”
His pulse beat under my palms.
A kiss. What harm could it do?
I leaned closer, craving a taste, the full, soft flesh, the scratch of his stubble.
His minty breath drew me closer. “Please. One kiss.”
Temptation was a terrible, deceitful entity. I couldn’t give in. “Tell me something I don’t know about you. Something big.”
Groaning, he curled his fingers, gripping my butt cheeks.
I ached. God, how I ached, missing his skin, his strength, his heavy breaths and heady moans.
It was obvious he didn’t want to talk, so I upped the ante. “One confession. Two kisses.”
His head fell against the wall, rolling to the side. “The house fire I told you about.”
“Mmhmm,” I hummed, biting my bottom lip to keep from kissing the scar on his face.
“It was my fault. People died because of me.”
Before I could react, or respond, or register the weight of his words, Tito slammed his hand to the back of my head and stole those two promised kisses, the first fast and desperate, the second, slow, needy, relentless, begging. No more questions. Please. I’ve got nothing left to give.
Ages of pain seeped through that kiss.
I absorbed his brutal emotion, curling around him, melting against his tense muscles. He trembled beneath me. I tightened my grip.
On a gruff moan, he buried his face in my neck. “God, Tuuli.” A deep inhale. His arms snaked around me, fingers holding tight. “I’ve never said that out loud.”
Then my beastly man sucked in a hitched breath, and I knew he was fighting to hold his emotion at bay.
He’d allowed me another glimpse of a heavily guarded soul, a c
ostly confession.
I leaned back, tapping his chin like he often did to me, urging him to meet my eyes. “There’s my brave, untouchable man.”
I kissed him again. Because I could. Because he needed me.
His gaze aimed somewhere over my shoulder, unfocused and solemn. Then he smiled. “That was three kisses.”
“I’ve missed your lips.”
His face crumpled, agonized before his mask fell back into place. “Can I stay for a while?”
I wanted nothing more, despite trying so hard to hold my ground. “Would you? Until I fall asleep?”
“Shit, Bunny. Of course. Anything. Anything for more time with you.”
I woke three times that night. The last, around three a.m. Tito lay on his back, one hand behind his head, the other lying across his chest, thick eyelids fanned over his olive skin. Sleeping like a baby.
I’d never slept so good in my life.
Shortly after four-thirty, I kissed my bunny, slipped out of bed, and drove home, anxious to hit the open road. I changed into my running gear and fell quietly into the zone, losing myself in the steady rhythm of heavy breaths, the punch of rubber against wet pavement, and the deafening swoosh, swoosh, swoosh between my ears.
I ran until the sun winked at me over the horizon, then headed back. After a long shower, I stood at my bedroom window. The lake was still, an eerie shade of blue, daunting, like something deadly lurked just below the surface. Overhead, a cloud loomed, black and pregnant with threats of doom, sending an icy chill to my marrow.
I turned to face my rumpled bed. It too haunted me. Large, empty, cold. I’d wanted room to breathe. But, hell, the whole space I occupied, despite its luxury, shrunk around me, and I longed for the small basement apartment, more accurately, the woman I’d left sleeping there, the beauty who’d breathed life back into my soulless carcass.
I was so fucked. Fucked for her. Fucked for caring. Fucked for letting someone in, for wanting so goddamn bad to share my life with Tuuli. Fucked because I knew what I needed to do to be with her, and what if I wasn’t capable?
Son, I love you. Come with me. Everything will be okay.
My cell buzzed. Tango’s mug filled the screen.
I tapped accept, shaking the voice from my head. “Hey, pretty boy.”
“Morning, Grim.”
“Grim? Really?”
A fat bumblebee banged against the window, bouncing twice before falling out of sight.
Tango chuckled. “If the shoe fits.”
“Have you heard from Tuck?” I asked, rifling through the closet for a clean shirt.
“I did. Things are in motion.” He yawned into the receiver. “Tito. I’m proud of you, man.”
“For what?”
“For doing the right thing. Handing that intel over, rather than going after Carver yourself.”
The black cloud followed me into the bathroom, dulling the white tiles. “I want to rip that sick fucker to shreds, Tango. I almost made a trip out there last night.”
“What stopped you?”
I stared at my reflection, roughing a hand over my jaw. I needed a shave, but Tuuli seemed to like the rough texture, and damn how I wanted her to keep on liking me. “A goddamn little bunny. That’s what stopped me.”
“She’s no bunny. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
Yeah. I had.
“Anything new on Erik?”
“Guy’s a ghost. Cell’s inactive. No online activity. Bank accounts haven’t been touched. Got eyes on his parents, as well as anyone he’s ever so much as blinked at. Fucker is smart, I’ll give him that,” I said, heading back into the bedroom.
“We’ll get him. Feds are involved now. He’ll turn up one way or another.”
I looked at the clock. “I know, T. He will.” And fuck, I hoped I’d be the one to find him first. “I gotta go. Talk to ya later.”
I ended the call, dropped my ass to the mattress, and shoved my feet into a pair of black socks. Jeans next. Then boots.
Sunday. Fuck. Nausea rolled through me.
I love you, son.
Three deep breaths and I pushed to my feet, forcing the voices away, focusing on Tuuli. One goddamn hour. I could handle one hour. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I wiped sweat from my brow and forced one foot in front of the other, anxious as fuck, but grateful for another day. I had to seize every opportunity, make every moment with her count. I had to show her what I couldn’t verbalize. I had to let her know that she was worth fighting for.
You’re a woman worth fighting for.
My new mantra.
I studied my reflection, smiling, read the note Tito had left on the mirror, then made my way outside.
Birds celebrated the blue sky and bright sunshine with noisy songs, and the trees seemed to stand taller, arms raised in gratitude. I wanted to join them.
Nose to the sky, I inhaled, welcoming the burst of cool morning air into my lungs, allowing the fragrant new blooms to bombard my senses.
When I brought my gaze back down to Earth, the formidable figure standing in wait knocked all that fresh oxygen clean out of my system.
Tito leaned against his Mustang, one booted foot crossed over the other. He wore a light silver dress shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Both hands were shoved into his front pockets, and when I caught his appreciative gaze, the smile that broke loose across his scruffy face made my heart burst with a thousand tiny explosions.
He quickly set his expression back to stern, then came my way, hands fisted at his sides, strides unhurried. Even without his signature cloak, the man was beautifully intimidating—a thousand feet tall, a mile wide, and unfaltering in his brutal confidence.
Thump. Thump. Thump. The banging in my chest was painful.
My guts begged me to run to him. My feet remained glued to the ground.
“Goddamn, you give the sunshine a run for its money.” His arms coiled around me, pinning mine to my sides with a hug so tight I feared my infrastructure would crumble. I was left hanging, my feet dangling at his shins while he swung me around once, kissed my cheek, then lowered me back to the ground.
“I missed you,” he whispered, lacing our fingers and leading me to the passenger side of the car.
I’d missed him, too.
He waited for me to settle into the leather seat before closing the door.
I had no words. No breath. Not one coherent thought other than, I love this man.
He backed out of the driveway, lips pressed tight, knuckles white.
The thought of him as a helpless child at the hands of a monster who called himself a priest made my eyes well.
Tito shot me a quick glance, then focused ahead. “Hey. You okay?”
“You’re taking me to church.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
His eyes never left the road. “Because you’re my girl.”
“But you hate church. And I understand why you don’t want to go, and I would never want you to feel like you have to do this. Ever.”
“I’ll deal. Don’t worry about me.”
I couldn’t swallow past the gooey ball of emotion stuck mid-esophagus, choking me, causing my eyes to fill with pesky liquid.
I love this man.
He loves me, too.
I managed to croak a pathetic thank you, then focused my attention out the window because if I let those tears fall, every other part of me would crumble to dust.
The church service was beautiful, even more so with Tito by my side. He held my hand for an hour and ten minutes, not letting go until I was safely tucked back into his car. Yes, he was tense, and yes, I could tell his mind had been elsewhere through most of the sermon. But he was with me. He was there, for me.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For last night. For this morning.” For always being there. For knowing when I needed him, I left unsaid.
Actions speak louder than words.
Tito’s actions were a roadmap leading st
raight to the wild, bleeding heart hidden deep in his battered soul.
I wanted to ask him, why me? I wanted to ask about his childhood. His parents. I wanted to know what happened to the priest who abused him. I wanted to know what made him tick.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel like he could read my mind, like he was bracing for more questions, more demands. A kiss for a secret. A confession for my time. A truth for my heart.
I had no doubt he would do his best to meet any ultimatum I threw his way.
I wouldn’t push. Not today. Maybe never again. I was a woman worth fighting for, but Tito was worth fighting for, too. As much as I was. Maybe more. Maybe no one had ever fought for him. He’d fought for me since the day we met.
He has to break before he can heal.
I was no longer wholly convinced that was the case.
I wanted Tito. The whole of him. The parts of him. Whatever he could offer.
So, I didn’t ask him any of the things I wanted to know. Instead, I said, “You are so fucking beautiful.”
His face broke into an infectious grin. “Did you just say fuckin’?”
There was nothing more gut-wrenching in the world than Tito’s smile.
Damn. That smile would be the death of me. And when she laughed? I could touch the fucking moon.
When we pulled onto the street, she cleared her throat and announced, “I’m going to sign up for classes this fall at the community college. I’ve already talked to Slade about it. She told me she’d work around my school schedule, so I can work as little or as much as I need.”
Tuuli surrounded by horny college assholes. Fuck. That damn organ in my chest beat with the force of a jackhammer. I wanted to drag her to my castle and lock her away, keep her all to myself. Instead, I smiled and said, “I’m proud of you.”
Swear to Christ, her face turned twenty different shades of red.
I drove her home and waited on the couch while she changed. When she came out of the bedroom, rocking those rosy cheeks, and swaying hips, I wasted no time.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” she complied, too fast, and too damn breathless.
Truck Stop Tempest Page 21