by Blue, Jayne
I was super sensitive to the treatment of animals and how they could be traumatized in transit. The accommodations for the dogs was about as gentle as possible. I hadn’t heard one complaint from a new family after one of my transports and I was proud of that.
These animals would be protected and loved. Making sure of that was my mission.
I merged into the highway lane and looked behind me. Traffic was light this morning. That was good. I check the temperature gauge for my cargo area. A nice 72 degrees. That was pretty good for the Texas heat.
I’d planned to stop once every two hours to water and walk my menagerie. It meant I’d get to San Nonnus a little slower than your average trucker but that was okay. I didn’t have average cargo.
I looked in my rearview and saw there was motorcycle behind me. I scanned all the lanes around me. The size of the rig made me very cautious. I could easily make a wrong move and crush anything in my path. I was a new enough operator of this sized vehicle that I didn’t take anything for granted. I knew I had a big rig to manage and I took that job almost as seriously as protecting my furry passengers.
I glanced in the rearview again; the motorcycle had vanished, it must have exited. I continued to check all my gauges and all the lanes around me. Thank God for the coffee in Port Az. It zipped through my system and kept me on my toes.
I looked at the GPS. It would be smooth sailing for the next 100 miles of Texas Highway. My cargo could stretch their little legs and have some water at that point.
When Rudy bought this rig, he bought the best. I had a little living area behind me, complete with bed, mini fridge, mini microwave, and pull out table. It was designed for the long haul and for minimizing the expense of hotels for the driver on these trips.
My routes were planned with rest stops in mind. My animals need water, and some open grassy area, just like I need a trucking lot to park the rig. I was getting good at knowing the best places to stop and where to avoid.
The miles passed with traffic picking up slightly as the morning wore on. I’d been at this job for less than a year but I hoped it could last. Working for animal welfare groups hadn’t exactly helped keep my bank account solvent but that’s not why I did it.
I hoped what Rudy had going with Ruff Life would thrive and become a permanent situation for me. I needed some stability.
It was a fast 100 miles and soon my stop was in sight.
I eased off the road into the truck lot of the rest stop. It was good to get out and walk around a bit. If I needed a break, so did my animals. They were my babies until I handed them off and I felt fiercely protective of them. They’d really had a rough life before they got to Ruff Life and I want to be sure that they were never abused or abandoned again.
I grabbed my bag of supplies which included, well, bags. Cleaning up after animals was part of the job.
I opened the back and was greeted with a few whines, a few barks, and indifference from the sleepier of the crew. With six animals, I could walk three at a time, so I hopefully could navigate rest stops a little faster than when I had 18 passengers. I had tried to do more than three on a lead in my first few runs for Ruff Life, but it usually turned into a tangled disaster.
Three was a good number to manage for potty breaks.
I put two lab mixes and a pit mix – the rescues were pretty much always mixes – on leads and walked them down the ramp. They all had about five minutes’ of exercise time and then it was onto the other three.
I scratched ears and checked in with each of my passengers with a belly rub.
They all seemed to be doing well and it took only about twenty minutes to handle them at this stop. That was speedy compared to the over an hour per stop it usually took me on a run with a full load of furry cargo.
Along with the crates, I had several gallons of water and food for the trip.
Most of the animals I transported were good natured and jaunty when I let them out for a walk. But I pet each one, giving each a moment or two of focused attention. Anxiety was a normal thing for a dog to experience when you changed their living circumstances. And these dogs had been rescued from abuse or kill shelters, so there were even more behaviors to look out for.
I spent a lot of time with them during the intake process. I worked with each of them to foster confidence and trained them to be good in the families to which they’d eventually be matched. And they I made them pretty! I washed, brushed, groomed, and videotaped them to share on our YouTube channel.
At Ruff Life, we prided ourselves on the idea that the families were getting a wonderful new best friend. Not a neurotic or unstable animal who couldn’t recover from the circumstances that started their lives. It’s what had drawn me to Rudy and Port Az.
I reassured all the dogs and it looked to me like every one of them was handling the journey with no sign of trouble.
“Good job, guys!” I said as I checked each crate latch.
A little yip from Tookie – the Chihuahua mixed with who knows what – reminded me they weren’t all guys.
“And good job, ladies,” I added. I loved these pups like they were my own and felt a little pang that I’d be dropping them off. But alas, as every boss I ever had said to me, I couldn’t take them all in myself.
I locked up the back and took a moment in the rest stop myself. I was the last priority on these trips and it showed. I looked in the rest stop mirror and put a finger through my crazy hair. I was just as much of a mutt as the dogs. My hair was some sort of mix of Irish redhead and poodle. I adjusted my scarf: if I didn’t have the scarf my mop would be everywhere. I wondered what that sexy biker saw when he looked at me. Probably crazy girl who related to dogs more than people. That would be accurate.
I brushed it off. Dog smells and old t-shirts didn’t exactly put me on the hottie list. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I walked back to my rig while adding up how long this trip, with rest stops, was going to take. I’d need the new owners alerted so they could be there at pick up. It was my favorite part of the job, seeing these new forever families meet each other.
As I walked back to my truck I saw a man leaning up against it. He was wearing leather, not too different than the biker at the truck stop before, but instead of handsome smolder, I sensed something entirely different. There was a smile on his face but something felt immediately off. He had long legs and arms and longish hair that looked like it could use a good washing. Some to think of it, the rest of him probably could stand the same.
I kept walking to my rig but slowed my pace. I looked around. Was I alone with this guy? Was it going to be another asshole who thought I was a hooker or something?
As liberated as this country was supposed to be, a woman, on the road alone, driving a big rig, was like an alien life form. No one knew what to make of me or how to treat me.
I hoped that was all that this was. A man who had the wrong idea.
I took a deep breath and the man placed himself between me and the door to my truck.
“Interesting cargo you got here,” he said, and a sneer played across his lips. Was that supposed to be a smile? Ugh. This was annoying already.
“Yep. Can I help you with something?” I noticed a patch on his jacket that read “Devil’s Hawks.”
“I think you can help me with a lot of things.” The man grabbed me and before I could even process what was happening, he had me smashed up against the side of my truck. His hands were holding mine above my head and he’d pressed himself into me.
“Let me go.” I tried to process the situation I was in. It was broad daylight but there wasn’t a person around at this rest stop. If I yelled my voice would disappear into the sounds of the nearby highway. I was on my own.
He got his face up close to mine.
“I think we’re going to have a little fun before I finish this job.”
“What are you doing?” I had no doubt what fun meant in his mind. I needed to provide a knee to the groin of this asshole or I’d be
in a world of trouble. He pressed his face closer and the smell of stale cigarettes made me gag. I remembered that smell all too well from my childhood.
I was beginning to panic. He held me too tight for me to kick. Fuck. I squirmed and tried to break free, but he held me tight.
Then he didn’t.
The biker from the truck stop was there, out of nowhere. He clocked my would-be attacker, and I watched as the man slid down at my feet, nearly dragging me with him as he lost consciousness.
“Holy shit!” was all I could think of to say.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded my head in answer.
“That’s twice,” I added.
“You seem to get into trouble a lot.”
“Yeah, I, well, sort of.” I did attract idiots, that was true. But this was the worst scrape I’d been in and I blocked out what might have just happened.
“My name’s Kade, Kade Davis. I suggest we get you in your rig and out of here.”
“Harlow Hayes.”
I tried to step around the man at my feet, but I was entangled.
“Here.” Kade reached a hand out and I took it as I climbed over the mess he had saved me from.
“Thank you.”
He held onto my hand and for some reason I didn’t want him to let go. Kade guided me a few more steps and I found my balance and pulled my hand back.
“I think I need to what? Call police? Or just run over him?” What I wanted to do was ride away, fast, from this ugly encounter.
“Whatever you want, miss,” Kade said and I was struck again by how fucking sexy this man was. Where had he come from? I hadn’t noticed his lips before; they were full, beautiful. I had to stop myself from staring. It dawned on me that he could be just as dangerous as the biker at my feet. Kade here was in a stunning package but very well could be the same damn thing.
“Were you following me?” I was starting to question how Kade had managed to be there to help me out twice in as many hours.
“No, just lucky to pick the same stop as you.”
He was beautiful and I didn’t want to take my eyes off him.
“Lucky for me it looks like.” Jesus, great, I’d just tried to flirt and I sucked at it. Plus it wasn’t the time. Ugh.
“You need to get in your truck and get going.”
Well, that was a pretty quick rejection. I had been given the brush off. Just as well, men were either trying to paw me or trying to pawn me off, I guess.
“I, uh, yes.”
“No, I mean – his friends, they’re coming.” He pointed to the off-ramp where two more motorcycles were exiting.
“What the hell?”
Kade opened my cab door and practically hoisted me in.
“Go.”
“But what about you?”
“How about I follow you on purpose for a while, so they get the idea.”
“Okay.” What idea? I wondered. That I had a biker guardian angel?
I didn’t think too much about it. I wanted to get out of there. Fast. At least in my truck, on the move, I’d be moving away from them, Devil’s Hawks, and this biker who’d had me thinking about his lips.
I started the truck and pulled forward to the on-ramp. Kade was out of sight for a moment as I picked up speed and merged onto the highway.
I didn’t immediately see the additional bikers, so I hoped at least I had gotten out of there before they’d realized their friend was going to have a nasty headache.
I checked all my mirrors and my heart jumped a little in my chest.
There was a man on a bike behind me. It was Kade. He saw me look and gave me a thumbs up. Okay, Kade was behind me. He’d helped me out of two scrapes this morning. But I couldn’t rely on the kindness of Mr. Dark and Dangerous. Nope. I needed to think about how to get where I was going without running into any more Devil’s Hawks or shitty truckers.
The first six runs I’d made for Ruff Life had been smooth sailing. It wasn’t easy work but it hadn’t been like this. All I’d needed to worry about was water, food, and pooper scooping. This time I’d accidentally turned into a cat toy for biker clubs and pervy truckers.
I needed to think. How could I be sure to avoid any more bullshit?
The most obvious first step was to switch up my route. I needed to stop for my cargo again in two hours, but this time it wasn’t going to be on any path. I adjusted my GPS tracker and texted my new route to Rudy. He always insisted he know where I was in the dog delivery process so he could keep the new families up to speed.
My backroad route was going to make it a lot harder for truckers, bikers, and whatever the hell else was out there, to predict my next stop. If that’s what they were doing.
As I drove, a part of me was relieved that Kade was back there. He’d done nothing but help me out today. He was my knight in worn leather.
Another part of me was warning myself to try to put distance between this stranger and me too.
But I didn’t want to. I wanted to do the opposite. I wanted to learn who Kade was and why he was there for me, out of the blue.
3
Kade
What the fuck? They’d picked a woman, traveling alone, who looked like she did? Harlow had no idea that there was a stash of .38s and ammo in her truck. They must be nestled in there pretty good because she didn’t seem to have a clue.
I was supposed to be following her from a distance. She was supposed to have no idea about me either.
But I’d fucked that up on accident once, before I knew she was the driver, and now again on purpose.
I’d seen her pull off and I had intended to keep my distance. But I knew it sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence that a Devil’s Hawk was coming on to her in the truck lot.
By now they’d figured out their shipment had been intercepted. By now they’d figured out it was probably The Dark Saints that did it.
And at least the fucker who accosted Harlow knew she was likely the method of transport. I had no answer for how they’d figured out where we’d stashed the guns.
I had a lot to work out but I knew one thing: this was fucked up, completely.
I was going to have to stay close to this woman and her cargo. I liked staying close to her but the idea that she was in danger from every angle had me sick to my stomach. I wanted to protect her.
She handled the rig well, I admired that, but everything else about her looked wide-eyed and trusting. From her hippie hair bandana to dog loving t-shirt. She had no idea about the crap she was in the middle of, somehow.
I cursed under my breath at Bear. This was his idea. He put this woman in the crosshairs. I’d fucking punch him in the face next time I saw him.
I had expected Harlow to stay on the highway, stick to whatever her route was, but she flicked on a blinker and I followed her down the off-ramp. She was taking a back road. She was improvising. Good girl.
I didn’t blame her. It actually made a lot of sense. Mix it up, girl. At least that would make it tougher for whoever might be on her tail.
Harlow was no dummy. I had a totally undeserved sense of pride in her. Jesus, all because she had a cute ass, and a cute face, and, yeah, I was thinking with my dick. Not a good plan.
Our speeds were lower on the country roads. I constantly scanned behind us, and it looked like the payoff was that she was moving this big rig without a lot of prying eyes. That was good. At least that would help me get this shit accomplished – if we avoided Hawks, and cops, from here on out.
I followed Harlow and after over an hour out in the boondocks, she pulled into a hole in the wall. It was another diner. But she was the only truck. For their mid-day lunch crowd, we were it. I took a deep breath. No one could possibly know she’d decided to stop here, at Jean and Gene’s Country Kitchen.
I watched as Harlow climbed down from the cab of her rig.
Shit, she could fill out those jeans. I killed my engine and watched her a beat longer as she unlocked the back of the truck bay. I figured the gentlemanly thi
ng to do was help her with whatever she was working on.
I walked up and saw what she was hauling. Dogs.
A half a dozen dogs and they all wanted her attention.
She gave it.
“How many you got back there?”
“Six. I can do three or four times that but Rudy, my boss as Ruff Life, insisted we get these guys, and ladies, to their homes. So we don’t have a full manifest.”
“Gotcha.” That made sense to me, if hauling dogs made sense at all.
The rig was big and there was a lot of unused space in there. Well, space that she probably didn’t know was being used for Devil’s Hawk’s stolen guns.
I could see right away where Axle and Benz had likely stored the contraband. Hopefully, Harlow didn’t look too closely.
“Here, since you’re standing there.” Before I could protest, she thrust a leash in my hand. At the end of it were three rats.
“That’s Tookie, Buster, and Elaine. They need to be walked and I can only take three at a time. I’ll handle the big ones.”
I sniffed at that. Harlow had three wolf-sized animals and I had the rodent-sized fluff balls.
“Come on. We need to be quick,” Harlow ordered me. I tugged and the three little dogs decided against my plan. They all went in separate directions. I had a twisted braid of leashes and no hope of getting towards the green space.
I watched as Harlow expertly led the three she had. They each easily outweighed her but that didn’t seem to matter.
“That’s it Rocco, come on Chutney, good job Morty!” Harlow had a way with the animals that I did not.
“Come on. You’re making me look bad here. Let’s go.” The three dogs, forming points north, south, and west on my leash, all looked up at me and cocked their heads.
“The lady’s going to think I’m a pussy. Now let’s go.” I took a step and added a whistle and they generally headed in the direction in which I was trying to lead them. Either that or they were trying to get to Harlow. Either way, trying to keep a biker’s demeanor – cool, tough, and scary – was a fucking challenge with three cotton balls with superior attitudes running the show.