Truck Stop Tryst

by Daniels, Krissy

  I risked a glance to my side. Officer Roger Caldwell stood a step behind me, gun raised, looking every bit the badass street thug in his black gear and beanie.

  “One.” He stepped in front of me.

  Face still hidden, the remaining assailant bent and scooped his unconscious friend off the ground, dragging him away.

  “Two.”

  Throat-punch helped broken-nose off the ground, and they stumbled after their friend.

  “Roger,” I said, taking a breath and shaking the tension from my arms.

  The battered men piled into their truck, moaning, cursing, and promising my certain death.

  “You good?” he asked over his shoulder, weapon still pointed toward my attackers.

  “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

  We watched the old Chevy roll out of the parking lot. Only after it disappeared did Roger lower his arms.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked, tucking his lady into his hip holster.

  “It appears I’ve made some enemies.” We’ll get the spic bitch later.

  He gave me a one-sided eyebrow raise. “I’m not talking about those incompetent inbreds. I’m talkin’ ‘bout you taking three of them down, blind. Shit. I saw them coming for you and barely had time to sprint over here before you’d taken care of business.”

  “Got lucky, I guess.” Wasn’t about to share my history. “You’re not in uniform. You moonlighting for Tango?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t raise a family on an officer’s salary.”

  Tango had hired a security crew. Off-duty cops, apparently. Good call. I started for my Jeep.

  Roger stopped me with a hand to my chest. “Watch your back, Tuck. Don’t know what you did to piss off those boys, but you’re on their radar now. They’re not the smartest bastards, but once you’ve been targeted, they are relentless.”

  Kill this traitor … we’ll get the spic bitch later.

  They weren’t just coming for me. I patted Roger on the shoulder. “Thanks again, Rog.”

  I ran to my car and dialed Tango. He answered on the third ring.

  “You home?”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. Rocky squealed in the background.

  “We’ve got a problem. I’ll be there in five.”

  I tossed my cell on the passenger seat and released my frustrations on the steering wheel.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  I cranked the shower knob to OFF and quickly patted myself dry.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  “I’m coming. I’m coming!” I shouted, certain nobody could hear me from the far corner of my apartment. I’d barely tied the towel around my chest and cleared the back end of the hallway when the front door flew open, smashed into the wall behind it, and swung back to the closed position.

  A deep voice shouted, “Fuck,” from behind the door just before the knob turned and the door opened again.

  Tucker and Tango bumped shoulders, fighting to get through the entryway first, both shouting my name before realizing they were standing right in front of my half-naked ass.

  Had the situation not been so ridiculous, I might have been scared. Had I not recently engaged in a marathon session with my new vibrator, courtesy of Tucker, I might have dropped my towel and taken advantage of the two insanely beautiful men standing in my living room, all heavy breaths and twitching muscles.

  When they noticed my naked state, Tango rolled his eyes, then dropped his gaze. Tucker damn near tackled me, blocking Tango’s view and pushing me toward my bedroom.

  “Get dressed. We need to talk.”

  I took my time, irked that my privacy had been so dismissively violated, pissed that Tucker thought it cool to bark orders.

  When I emerged, fully dressed, Tucker stopped his pacing, and Tango rose from the couch.

  “All right,” I said, “Here I am. What’s up?”

  “Your little stint with the knives and the skinheads has come back to bite you in the ass,” Tango said, crossing his arms, narrowing his eyes.

  I couldn’t help the curl of my lips while reliving the thrill of parting skin with a blade.

  “I’m taking you with me. On my trip,” Tucker blurted. “Pack some things. We’re leaving tonight.”

  Like hell. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? It wasn’t a question.”

  “No is pretty self-explanatory.”

  “Aida,” Tango said with a huff. “Those men are gunning for you. You humiliated them. They want to save face by making you pay. You’ve got limited choices here. You can either go with Tucker, or I can lock you in this house, where you don’t step foot outside, not even to grab the morning paper. No more Truck Stop, no more burgers, no more sunshine. I’d rather not put you through that. Honestly, I don’t want to put my family through that.”

  “Lockdown it is. I’m not going with Tucker to pick up his damn girlfriend. Not after….” Shit. No way was I going to admit to Tango that I’d begged Tucker to make love to me. Or that I’d experienced the two best orgasms of my life, in The Truck Stop Diner, of all places, thanks to some magnificent lip skills.

  “After what?” Tango asked, dragging a hand over his face.

  Tucker huffed behind me, his feet shuffling on the carpet. “Girlfriend?”

  Tango slipped a quick glance over my shoulder, a glint of humor in his eye. “Frankie.” He studied my face, biting back a smile. “Aida here, for reasons I can’t wrap my head around, is miffed that nobody mentioned you had a girlfriend.”

  My core temperature hit the boiling mark. He thought my situation was funny. He wouldn’t think it funny if he knew Tucker had been cheating on his girlfriend. With me. In the diner, no less.

  I stamped my rage down the best I could. “My father ordered you to watch over me.” I jabbed a finger into Tango’s chest, then used that same finger to point at Tucker. “Not some dumbass cowboy who can’t even hold his own in a fight.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Tucker mumbled, raking his hands through his messy hair before storming away.

  I stood my ground with Tango. “They would’ve beaten Tucker to death in that parking lot if I hadn’t disabled two of them. My father will kill you if he knows you’re leaving me in Tuck’s incapable hands.”

  A drawer slammed. Then another. Then another. When I reached my room, Tucker was shoving underwear into my suitcase.

  “What are you doing?” I shrilled.

  “We’re leaving. End of discussion.” He closed the lid and heaved it off the bed.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” I speed-walked to the bathroom and locked the door. Obviously, arguing would do me no good. I’d wait them out. Safely behind the locked door. I made myself comfortable on the edge of the bathtub. Listened to footsteps stomp up and down my hallway.

  A car door slammed. More stomping. Rocky was yelling, then crying upstairs. My stomach rumbled. More footsteps, this time pausing outside the bathroom door.

  I wrapped my arms protectively around my middle. “Don’t worry, sweet pea. Mommy’s got this.”

  “Aida.” Tango knocked softly. “This is for the best. It’s only for a few days, until I can take care of those Aryan fuckers.”

  I knew damn good and well what was best. A long drive, alone with Tucker, was definitely not healthy, or safe, for anyone. “Think I’ll stay. Don’t worry, I won’t leave the apartment, I promise.”

  “Fuck this shit,” Tucker rumbled, fury fueling his words.

  He only kicked once, and the wood below the handle exploded into shards. I watched, in disgust, and awe, as the door surrendered and slowly creaked open.

  A few months ago, had anyone displayed such aggression toward me, I would’ve taken them down. Taught them some respect. With the baby on board, I’d gone soft. Or maybe it was Tucker’s unnecessary display of male brute force. Either way, I didn’t attack. Instead, I inquired, “What’s with all the dramatics? You could’ve asked nicely. I would’ve let you in.”

 
Without a word, Tucker was on me, or under me, rather, scooping me off the tub, and carrying me through my apartment like a damn child.

  He tucked me into the Jeep and just like that, we were on our way. Tango shook his head and jogged up his back porch toward the door. No goodbyes. No apologetic glances my way.

  Like a racer’s baton, I’d been passed off.

  And because life wasn’t messy enough, I was whisked into the dark of night, by the man I’d developed a terrible crush on, to meet his girlfriend.

  “So, about my girlfriend,” I said, frustrated, and uncomfortable, with the silent routine coming from the opposite side of the cab.

  Aida whispered under her breath, scooted deeper into her seat, and turned to look out the passenger side window. “I don’t want to hear about her. I’m stuck with your miserable, cheating ass for God knows how many miles. I’ve got murder on my mind, so it’s best we don’t discuss your immoral tendencies right now.”

  I could’ve let her off the hook. I didn’t. “Are you jealous? Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice?” Yeah, I was teasing, egging her on, but damn, I’d missed her fiery tongue and she deserved some ribbing after her dumbass cowboy who can’t hold his own in a fight remark earlier.

  Snapping her head my direction, she mumbled, “I don’t like you. I’d have to like you to be jealous of your fat girlfriend.”

  “Fat? Now she’s fat?” I asked, struggling to stifle my laugh.

  “Your nephew squealed like a little piggy. Didn’t know you were into big girls. Of course, that would explain why you couldn’t keep your hands off me and my, what did you call it? Oh yeah, my beer belly. Well, sorry, Cowboy. I’m not fat. I’m pregnant, so you’re outta luck. And damn lucky I haven’t stabbed you in the balls yet.”

  Fuck me, but jealous Aida was cute as hell. “You about finished?”

  Aida loosened her seatbelt and leaned my way. “I’m only getting started. By the time I’m finished, you’ll be on hands and knees begging … Oh my God.” She grabbed my chin and wrenched my face her way. “Is that blood on your face?”

  “It’s not mine.” Shit. In my rush to get her away, I’d forgotten to clean up. I yanked free of her grip and swerved, mere inches from sideswiping a minivan.

  “Whose blood is it?”

  “The dip-shit skinheads jumped me outside The Stop. Don’t worry, though, I held my own.”

  Aida reached into the glove box and pulled out the recently replenished supply of baby wipes. “Hope these work on blood splatter.”

  She handed me one cloth after another, prodding me to clean my face. Not an easy task to accomplish while driving. After a good five minutes, Aida gave me a thumbs up and tucked my supply of magic cleansing cloths away.

  “For the record, the first time they jumped me, I didn’t fight back because I was trying to lead them out of the diner. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I sure as hell didn’t need help. That being said, it was a turn on, knowing you’d had my back. It proves, despite your earlier comment, that you do indeed like me.”

  I braved a glance her way, in time to catch her eye roll.

  “Who had your back this time?” she asked. “Another clueless woman you’re stringing along?”

  “Listen. This isn’t a joke, Aida. There were four of them this time. One was carrying a gun. They weren’t only after me. They were waiting for you, too.”

  Her hands fell to her belly, fingers spreading as if to comfort the life growing inside her. “It’s not your job to protect me. Last I checked, Tango was crowned my guardian and savior.” Spiteful poison laced her words.

  Protecting her wasn’t my job. But I would be the one keeping her safe. “And Tango is going to take care of those bastards while I keep you out of the line of fire. This is a good thing. Think of it as a vacation. Stress-free. Dark, gloomy, apartment-free. Your only responsibility for the next few days is to feed that baby.”

  Aida dropped her head back against the seat, closed her eyes, and sighed. Damn, she was delicious. Thick lashes, high cheekbones, plump, taunting lips.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, turning her gorgeous face toward the passenger side window.

  “My house. I need to grab my suitcase. Then we’re off to see my parents.”

  Aida didn’t respond, only stared out the window into the dark night. It was a jackass move, but I couldn’t resist poking the bear. “After that, you, me, and Frankie are taking a little road trip. She’s coming home with me. You two should get to know each other.”

  THREE IN THE MORNING used to be the time I’d consider falling into bed. Pre-pregnancy, anyway. Post-preggo? Well, let’s just say, three AM and Aida Voltolini, I mean, Aida Suarez, were not compatible. As we pulled up to the front of the Slades’ farm-style home, it took every ounce of composure and self-control I could muster not to fall into a fit of exhausted rage.

  I’d slept most of the trip, or had at least pretended to sleep, to avoid ripping Tucker a new asshole for being a lying, adulterous kidnapper. My ankles were swollen, my back ached, and I had a brain-pinching kink in my neck.

  Tucker helped me out of the Jeep, and somehow, even after driving for seven hours, managed to display his devilish smile. It was unnerving the way that grin made my insides warm. Had I not been so tired, I might’ve done something to remove his smug expression.

  I followed him up the steps onto the wraparound porch. The door flew open, and James Slade greeted us with open arms and bright eyes.

  We shuffled inside, and Tucker’s mother, Leticia, wrapped me in a warm embrace. “Aida, sweetie, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”

  I hugged her back, unable to stifle a yawn as I said, “Good to see you, too.”

  Lettie pulled back and studied my face, empathy flashing in her silver eyes. “You must be exhausted. Let’s get you right to bed. We can catch up in the morning.” She released me and turned to give her son a squeeze. “Tucker wasn’t supposed to come until Friday so I didn’t have time to get both rooms ready. I’ll put you in Tuck’s bed. He can have the couch. Tomorrow, we’ll have the guest room ready for you. It’s full of boxes right now. I repainted the office and didn’t have time to move everything back in yet.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Tucker kissed his mother’s cheek. “I’ll show her where to go.”

  “Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Slade. I’ll see you in the morning, or later in the morning.”

  “Please, Lettie and Bruce,” Tucker’s dad corrected me.

  “Goodnight, Lettie and Bruce.” I waved and watched them shuffle into what I assumed was their bedroom, then turned and followed Tucker down the hall.

  “The bathroom is there.” He pointed to his left and then turned into the room on his right. “Hold on a sec,” he ordered, dropping the suitcases and shuffling through the darkness to find the bedside lamp. “There we go. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

  He laid my suitcase on a chair in the corner. “If you need anything, I’ll just be down the hall.”

  Dark circles framed his eyes; of course, the sparse light might’ve been to blame. Regardless, I couldn’t help but appreciate his features, and a warmth swirled through me, first comforting, then aggravating. I couldn’t allow myself that kind of reaction. Not when he was taken.

  Which reminded me…

  I slapped him. Swift and hard.

  His head moved, only a fraction, but enough that I could see the muscles in his jaw tense, then relax. He licked his bottom lip, eyes down, before the left side of his mouth lifted. “Mind telling me what that was for?”

  “For not telling me you had a girlfriend.”

  I slapped him again, to rid his face of that annoying smirk. “And that was for not calling me for a week after giving me a mind-blowing orgasm in your sister’s office, for the second time.”

  I swung to strike again. He caught my wrist. I punched him hard in the gut with my free hand.

  A satisfying, “oof,” left his lips, and he doubled over. Yeah, I could throw a punch as we
ll as I could throw a knife. Could take one, too. Kudos to Dad’s unorthodox parenting.

  I bent at the waist and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Tuck,” I whispered in a breathy tease, slapping his ass before making my way to the bathroom.

  When I returned, Tucker was stretched across the foot of the bed, ankles crossed, one hand behind his head, the other sprawled over his chest. Sound asleep. Snoring.

  Too tired to complain, I shimmied under the heavy blankets and gave in to the unyielding pull of exhaustion.

  When I woke, alone, and well-rested, an eery silence amplified the worrisome voices in my head. My father had to be okay. We’d have heard something by now if he wasn’t. I rolled out of bed, shook off the sudden chill, and dug through the suitcase for warmer clothes.

  I laughed when I found my new vibrator tucked in the folds of my wool cardigan. How disturbingly thoughtful.

  Unless it was Tucker’s idea of a bad joke, in which case, I’d make sure the man was looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

  Sweet Papa, I was in a mood.

  I took in my surroundings. The dark blue walls made the large room look smaller than it was. Framed photos of Tucker, mostly glossy five-by-sevens with cheesy brass frames, hung above a wall of shelves boasting trophies of various sizes and colors. Some sort of martial arts, judging by the poses of the gold-plated figures. Medals hung floor to ceiling on the opposite wall. Every one of them gold or first place.

  Part of me felt cheated, having never heard of Tucker’s achievements, and I fought the urge to snoop and unearth more of his secrets. Then I remembered that I didn’t care about the unfaithful douche.

  A shower was in order. If Tucker was forcing me to meet his girlfriend, I would do it like the queen I was, with grace and dignity. Of course, in his rush to pack my clothes, he hadn’t grabbed anything with a price point above the thirty-dollar mark, meaning I would meet my competition dressed like nothing more than your average, middle-income, stay at home mom. Not that there was anything wrong with that. At least I had my cosmetic bag.