Truck Stop Tempest

by Daniels, Krissy

  She’d kept the information to herself all this time.

  Breathe in. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three. “So, you know who Voltolini was?”

  “Everybody does,” she replied. I lost her to thought for a brief moment before she scooted closer, landing her hands on my knees. “Rafael told Aida that the devil came for his family. Took them out one by one. That he was the only Marcovic left.”

  I swallowed a thick lump of disgust and loathing. Where the fuck was she going with this?

  “The devil was you, Tito. Wasn’t it?”

  And there it was, the Haymaker. One swift, no-holds-barred punch. The little bunny hit me with everything she had. No more secrets. No more reveals. She’d chipped away the last layer, leaving me raw. “They were bad people, Tuuli. The worst kind.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I broke out in a cold sweat. She wanted the real me. Well, there I was, sliced open, dripping all my ugly truths at her feet. “Voltolini ordered them dead. Those were his last words to me or anyone. I had to honor them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I owed him my life.”

  “Why?” She scooted closer still, no fear in her voice, no pleading in her eyes. No judgment. Only curiosity.

  “Because he saved my life. Took care of everything after I choked that fuckin’ pedophile priest to death on his office floor. Luciano cleaned the mess. Made the evidence disappear. Took me under his wing. Taught me to channel my anger.”

  “When was the last time you killed someone?”

  God. Hadn’t she had enough? “Rafael Turner.”

  “And the last time you wanted to kill someone?” she asked, unrelenting.

  I pointed to the security feed. “When I found that girl with…” I couldn’t continue, my nerves already stretched beyond their limit. “I beat those fuckers to near death, but I stopped.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  I tapped at my temple. “You. Your voice in my head.”

  She seemed to like that answer, her fingers curling into my flesh in response.

  Still, she continued, “That’s not the only reason though, is it?”

  I’d reached my breaking point. “No. Goddamn, Tuuli. No.” I pushed away from her, my chair slamming against the wall behind me.

  “Why did you stop, Tito?”

  “Fuck!” I yelled, digging my palms into my temples. “I’m tired. Tired of it all. The voices in my head, the ghosts, the goddamn shame.” Moisture rolled down my face. I let it fall, not ready to acknowledge my weakness. “The rage. The anger. I don’t want it anymore.”

  Finally, she leaned back, granting a reprieve. Silence hung between us, gritty and chafing, the only sound, our heavy breaths—mine, wet and burdened, and hers, slow and controlled.

  “I have a confession to make.” She rested one elbow on the armrest, planting her chin in her palm.

  “Yeah? What’s that?” Why was my voice so goddamn raw?

  “When I heard that Jeremy had been murdered, I was happy. I was so relieved that, for a brief moment, I wanted to laugh and dance around the apartment. How messed up is that? What kind of monster does that make me?” Her gaze dropped to the floor and I hoped to God it wasn’t in shame.

  I cleared the grit from my throat. “It makes you human.”

  Another long silence.

  “I’m sorry about the other day in the break room.”

  She nodded, lifting her eyes to mine. “I know. Me, too.”

  “Finding that girl…” I pointed to the screen. The security feed from the kitchen showed the twelve-year-old we’d found in the cabin where Erik was supposed to be hiding. The child was currently baking chocolate chip cookies with Tucker’s mother. “It took me to a dark place. Weighed me down with anger, and guilt, and pent-up energy, and the only thing I could think about was getting to you. I knew you’d wash the filth away.”

  “Tito,” she sighed, rising from her seat and stepping between my knees.

  “I get it now. I understand why you go to church.” I curled my arms around her small waist, hugging her close, burying my face in her chest. “You’re my church, Bunny.”

  “No.” She leaned back and cupped my jaw. “Don’t say that. I’m just a girl, every bit as broken as the boy she loves.”

  That word again. Love.

  I love you, son.

  I fought a shiver and choked on the rising bile. Fuck. If anyone deserved those words, it was my girl.

  Someday, I would give them to her. Someday, I would be strong enough.

  “Tell me I haven’t lost you. Tell me you can live with my sins.”

  Tilting my face upward, she stroked her thumbs under my wet eyes. “I told you before; I know who you are now. That’s what matters. Just please don’t lie to me. Don’t hide things. I need the truth. I need you to understand that I’m strong enough to deal with whatever life throws at us. Whatever comes our way, we’ll work through it, okay?”

  I nodded, pulling her down for a kiss. Expressing through touch what I couldn’t give with words and trusting that she understood exactly how much I loved her.

  Tito loved me. Not a doubt in my mind. He couldn’t form those three simple syllables, but what were words, anyway? Sounds strung together, an archaic form of communication. Words couldn’t be trusted. Words were too easily manipulated, practiced, weapons wielded, too often spewed with little thought.

  Tito loved me. I knew because although he wasn’t able to verbalize, I saw the truth in his eyes, the way they changed when they fell on me—softened, but sharpened, piercing and curious, and brimming with want.

  Oddly, after his confession of murder, when I should have been scared, I couldn’t help but feel closer to him. Safer by his side.

  Sure, my morbid sense of comfort was likely because of my upbringing. The violence, the threats, the manipulation. The abuse. I’d been surrounded by dangerous men, deadly men. Men who fed off my fear, men who wielded their self-imposed power like a judge’s gavel.

  But my Grim? Even at his scariest, he held me at his side, never at his feet. He imposed his power only to shield me, never to control. He used his strength only to lift me high, never to beat me down.

  I knew, without a doubt, that Tito Moretti, my Grim, loved me. Rare, unconditional, and undeniable love. The kind of love you risked deep-rooted morals to hold close, knowing that with time and heartache, trials and adventures, extreme highs and vicious lows, only grew stronger and more precious.

  Walking away would never be an option, no matter his sins.

  He leaned back, hands clasped behind his neck, his beautiful face on full display, contemplative scowl deepening his worry wrinkles. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  A flurry of palpitations erupted in my chest. I studied those exotic eyes, the wrinkles framing them, the thick lashes, the way they held me captive, making my pulse race like I was at the precipice, teetering, a tiny nudge from falling, falling, falling toward something blinding, and breathtaking, and brilliant.

  I made myself comfortable in his lap, hooking my arms around his waist, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m thinking that from the very first time I laid eyes on you, Tito Moretti, I knew you were going to rip my world apart, tear out my heart, rearrange my guts, frighten me, and challenge me all in one fell swoop. But what I didn’t know was that you were going to lift me so high I couldn’t see the Earth below.”

  His chest vibrated. “What do you see now?”

  “Possibilities.”

  “Do you see me?” he asked, one hand cupping my butt, the other, my chin.

  I arched my neck to find a smile. “I see nothing but you.”

  His brows lifted along with the left corner of his mouth. “Do you like what you see?”

  “I love what I see.” I roughed my fingers through the scratchy hair on his jaw. Then asked, “What do you see?”

  “I see us.” He dropped a chaste kiss on my nose. “You and me against the world.”

  “Thank you for telling me the tr
uth,” I settled back against his chest.

  His arm tightened, pulling me closer. “Thank you for not leaving.”

  I enjoyed the steady beat of his heart for several minutes, the lulling rise and fall of his chest. “I’m worried about my mom.”

  Tito shifted, clearing his throat.

  “I talked to Roger today. Nobody’s seen or heard from her since the morning before Jeremy died.”

  “Tuck told me.” Tito lifted me off his lap, his spine cracking as he rose to stand. “I’ve put feelers out. FBI is involved now. She’ll turn up.”

  I had to believe him because the alternative was more than my soul could handle.

  “We should go,” he said, bending to kiss me.

  I glanced at the computer screen one last time, my heart breaking all over again. It wasn’t fair that Erik was free to bully and terrorize. I hated that my silence over the years allowed more children to be hurt. I couldn’t change the past. But I could atone.

  “I want to help.” I dusted a finger over the child’s image. “I want to help care for these girls, Tito.”

  “Yeah?” He snagged his keys off the desk, then his wallet.

  “Yes.”

  “We can talk to Aida and Tucker tomorrow.” He grabbed my hand and led me outside. “That would be great, Bunny. We’d love having you here.”

  He opened the car door and waited for me to settle before closing it again. When he was comfortable in his own seat, he said, “Can I take you to my place tonight? Something I wanna show you.”

  Again, the fluttering in my chest. “Sure.”

  He navigated the long, private drive and hit the main highway leading back toward The Stop. Windows down, bass booming, we drove. I watched Tito, watching the road. Thumbs tapping. Lips moving to the lyrics. He glanced my way, a devilish, mind-numbing smirk on his face. I couldn’t remember ever being happier. Together, Tito and I would beat the darkness. We would escape the spindly fingers of our past.

  In the far distance, black clouds crept over the treetops.

  “Looks like a storm is coming,” Tito mused, glancing my way before focusing back on the path ahead.

  His words cut through me like a warning.

  I should have heeded that warning.

  THE WIND CAME FIRST, pushing the evergreens to their limit like a drill sergeant dance instructor, limbs bending and stretching beyond their breaking point. The rain followed close behind, hitching a ride on ominous black clouds, then cutting loose to flood the streets.

  By the time the power went out, our last customer had fled for the safety of home. Before the first lightning strike lit the sky, we’d locked the diner up tight and called it a night.

  I stood in the dark hallway, the centermost point of the building, far from any windows or doors, and listened, Tito’s footsteps growing closer, my pulse racing faster with each patter of rain on the roof.

  Warm, rough fingers sliced between my own before offering a reassuring squeeze. “The car is parked right outside the door. Two steps and you’re in.”

  He led me toward the back exit, hand in hand, feeling our way through the dark. The diner seemed to shudder, sensitive to the electric, angry storm outside. My chest rattled, too, responding to both the man at my side and the lingering threat beyond the walls.

  Tito’s cell buzzed and he stopped to tug the phone out of his back pocket, the screen illuminating his face. His eyes met mine briefly before he answered. “Dane. This better be good news.”

  Eyebrows knitted, he scratched his beard, shot me another glance, then ordered me to stay put while he disappeared into the kitchen. His muffled voice rang angry through the dark, empty hall.

  Minutes later, he shoved through the swinging doors and grumbled, “Change of plans.”

  Icy chills ripped through my skin and bones. “What’s wrong?”

  Joining our hands, he stepped close to me and drew a deep breath. “Erik’s been spotted in town.”

  “Good.” The weight of a thousand worries left my shoulders. I searched my handbag for my own cell, rifling through wads of paper, candy wrappers, tubes of lip gloss, and, gross, something soft and sticky. “Let’s call Roger.”

  “We can’t,” he snapped, clamping his fingers around my wrist.

  I paused my retrieval, dropping my phone back into the bottomless pit. “Why?”

  “Because there are people who want Erik more than we do.”

  “Who?”

  “Bad people.”

  My stomach protested, threatening to expel my lunch. “So, what do we do?”

  “You are going to wait with Tango and Slade.” He pulled me close, sliding a hand to my neck and curling his fingers in my hair. A long sigh. “I’ll drive you up the hill, then I’m meeting a couple of men back down here.”

  I jerked free of his grip. Nothing about his idea sounded like a good plan. “And then what?”

  He headed toward the exit. “Then, I help them grab Erik. I come pick you up. We have our date.” The restraint in his voice was obvious. He didn’t like the plan any more than I did.

  Thunder struck. Rolling and rumbling, wreaking havoc through every cell in my body, quieting any protest.

  Tito stepped ahead to push open the door, then looked over his shoulder. “Ready?”

  No. I was not ready. I’d lived with monsters my whole life, yet I was terrified of a little storm.

  “I could just stay here. Wait for you to get back. Lock myself in the office.”

  He chuckled, low and rumbly like the storm outside, only sexy. “Not an option, Bunny.” He dropped a warm, wet kiss on my mouth, rendering me breathless, boneless, fearless. “It’s safer at the house. Besides, Rocky already has the flashlights charged, and he’s waiting for you before he starts with the ghost stories.”

  He pushed the door open. A gust of wet wind hit my face. Tito dropped my hand and shoved me out of the way with such force, I stumbled and landed on my ass, my purse flying.

  With a sickening crack, Tito flew back, his head slamming into the wall behind him. He crumpled to the ground. Before I could react, a large figure blocked the doorway, then stepped over Tito like he was nothing more than a dust bunny.

  I scrambled backward, deeper into the dark.

  Another figure came through the door.

  Heavy boots squeaked on the tile floor. Coming closer. His face was hidden in the dark, but there was no mistaking Erik’s voice. “Riley. Kill that fucker.”

  My lungs seized, my throat closed.

  “Tuuli,” Tito mumbled. “Run.”

  Erik stalked closer. The roar between my ears grew louder.

  I scrambled to my feet, slipping twice before finding my footing.

  “Don’t run. You’ll only make it harder on yourself.”

  I didn’t want to leave Tito, but I knew Erik. He hated losing, and if I ran, he’d chase, giving Tito a fighting chance.

  Rain pounded the roof and windows, distorting sound in the dark hallway. Step by step, I moved back, feeling my way along the wall until I reached the corner. I was certain Erik could hear my desperate breaths, the loud boom, boom, boom in my chest.

  “Come here, kid. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  I turned and sprinted down the hall, through the diner, smashing into the front door, my hand shaking so hard I struggled to turn the lock. The sky lit up, brightening the room. On impulse, I counted. One, two, three, four, five. Boom.

  The door rattled against my hand. Oh, God. The storm, or Erik? I didn’t know which was worse.

  There’s a beast inside you.

  I pushed, first through my fear, then the exit, the wind jerking the door out of my grip.

  I ran. Into the dark storm. I ran across the flooded lot, the water slowing me down. I lifted my legs higher, pumping my thighs until they burned.

  Erik was behind me. His splashes louder, growing closer. I didn’t dare look back. Only forward.

  My clothes weighed a ton, sticking to my skin. The wind was against
me, challenging my escape. I hit the base of the hill, thankful to be out of the puddle. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see, but I forced one foot in front of the other.

  Twice I slipped. Twice I pushed to my feet and continued.

  Three more strides and I would’ve hit the crest of the hill. Three more steps, and maybe Tango or Slade would’ve heard my screams.

  A mountain of wet, hard, angry muscle crashed over me, knocking me to the ground. His chest pinned my head to the wet grass, and the steady stream of water covered my face. A heavy hand splayed over the back of my head, grinding me deeper into the wet soil, suffocating, crushing.

  His weight disappeared and I lifted my face, sucking in precious oxygen, coughing and sputtering rain and mud.

  Allowing no time to recover, Erik flipped me to my back and laid his weight over me, pinning my legs between his own, fisting my wet hair, holding me at his mercy.

  I couldn’t see his face through the sheets of rain, but the rage in his voice was palpable. “You should’ve married me. The Brotherhood would be mine. You’d be a fucking queen.”

  He spit in my face, hopped to his feet, grabbed my ankle, and shouted, “You ruined everything. Useless, fucking bitch.” Then he turned to drag me down the hill, back toward The Stop.

  I kicked, clawed, and twisted. The wind and rain drowned my screams. I was wet. I was mud. I was dirt. Blood. Torn clothes. I was angry. I was a beast.

  True, my beast was no match for Erik’s strength, but I was never again going to be his victim. Never again would I concede or submit. I would fight until my last breath.

  I lost my shirt halfway down the hill, along with several fingernails, and I was sure, too much skin. Still, I fought.

  Erik stopped when we reached the parking lot, dropped my leg, and squatted. “You know…”

  I didn’t wait for him to finish. I swung my leg. My boot connected with his face, knocking him sideways, but not down.

  I kicked again. Then twisted, pushing to my feet. Something struck my head, knocking me back to my knees. The world spun. My vision blurred.

  Like I was nothing more than a winter jacket, Erik threw me over his shoulder, knocking the air from my lungs. I struggled to stay conscious.