Truck Stop Tryst

by Daniels, Krissy

  Tito had stayed behind at the hotel to “do what needed to be done,” as he’d put it. I was damn happy not to have to clean up that gruesome mess.

  Disturbing as the hotel scene was to see, watching Aida suffer through labor and delivery was the hardest thing I’d ever witnessed. If I could’ve bore the pain for her, I would have. In all honesty, though, I would’ve folded after the first round of contractions. Aida had powered through, kicking ass and proving to the world that women were indeed the stronger sex.

  “All right, I’ll let you get some rest,” Hillary said, eyeing me skeptically before dropping her gaze to type notes into her mobile computer.

  Yes, the baby’s skin was darker than Aida’s, and on the opposite end of the color spectrum than my ivory shade of pale. I wasn’t about to explain our situation to the nurse or anyone for that matter.

  “We can take her to the nursery if you two want to sleep a bit.”

  “No.” Hell no. I wasn’t letting that baby out of my sight. “We’re good.”

  I heard Aida chuckle behind me. I hoped to God there was a smile to greet me when I turned around. She hadn’t smiled in hours, not since holding her child for the first time.

  Finally alone, I stepped to Aida’s side. Weary eyes lifted to meet mine.

  “How you doing, Bambi?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead and tucking the baby into the crook of her arm.

  With a sigh, Aida lifted her free hand to cup my cheek. She rubbed her thumb over my stubble. “Rafael killed my father.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He was going to kill me and Tuuli. He was going to kill his own child.”

  My own eyes started to leak. “If he’d taken you from me…” I swallowed the sob threatening to break loose and shook that thought away real quick. No doubt, had Turner succeeded with his twisted plan, I wouldn’t have survived the aftermath.

  “Tucker. He told me things.” She tightened her arm around the baby and nuzzled her hair. “Things he shouldn’t know. Things about my mother.”

  “He didn’t know shit,” came from a deep, gravelly voice behind me.

  “Tits?” Aida whispered, eyes lifting to the man in the doorway, face crumpling in realization. “Is it really you?”

  I released her hand and stepped away from the bed, allowing room for Aida to have her meltdown.

  Aida raised her free arm to accept Tito’s embrace.

  “Princess.” Tito fell against her, burying his face in her neck.

  Feeling every bit the intruder on their intimate moment, I slipped out the door, allowing the longtime friends their reunion. I wasn’t alone for long. Slade and Rocky bounced around the corner. Tango followed behind, looking as war worn as I felt. Dark circles, messed hair, and a heavy load of shit weighing down his shoulders.

  We exchanged a quick embrace before I scooped my nephew off the ground, “How ya doin’, buddy?”

  Rockster hugged my neck. “Mom says I have to be quiet in here. She said we have a new baby, and I have to be a good big cousin and take care of her.”

  I kissed his temple. “That’s right, little man. You’re gonna be the best big cousin ever.”

  The little tyke turned his head, his lips tickling my ear. “I don’t know how to take care of babies. They’re kind of yucky.”

  I couldn’t hold back my chuckle. “You know what? Neither do I, kiddo. Neither do I. How ‘bout we help each other out? Sound good?”

  He wiggled, letting me know he was ready to be back on his own two feet.

  We joined Aida and Tito. Passed the baby around. Made small talk, and avoided mention of Turner, or what could’ve been.

  After a round of hugs and see ya laters, Aida and I were alone again. Heavy-lidded and groggy, my Bambi quickly nodded off, but not before whispering, “Promise you won’t leave, Cowboy.”

  Yeah, like leaving was even a remote possibility. I simply kissed her cheek, whispered, “I love you,” and snuggled into the bedside chair where I had a perfect view of my Bambi. I’d never given much thought to the validity of miracles. However, considering where I’d been a few years ago, and where I ended up, I was damn sure I couldn’t deny their existence. The proof was in the pudding, or in my arms, rather. My daughter.

  I was a dad.

  I wished my dad could see his granddaughter. Dark hair, dark eyes, had every visitor wrapped around her little finger. She was master of her universe already, like her grandpa.

  “Lucia,” I whispered, testing the sound of the name on my tongue. My heart palpitated. The baby’s mouth fell slack, releasing my nipple. Out like a light.

  Tucker pushed through the door, car seat dangling off the crook of his arm, diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and carrying two paper sacks that smelled like greasy heaven.

  His eyes lit brighter than a spring sunrise when they rested on my bared breast. “Did she take to the nipple?”

  I nodded yes.

  “That’s great, baby.” He freed his arms, bent to kiss me, and with impressive grace for such a large man, transferred my little princess into her own bed.

  I watched, dumbstruck by the raw beauty of his nurturing talent.

  “You hungry?” he asked, maneuvering the hospital tray over my lap and pulling one of Charlie’s bacon double cheeseburgers out of the bag.

  “I just fell in love with you all over again,” I said, smiling wide enough to crack my split lip. I wasted no time digging in. It hurt to chew. I didn’t care. Hospital food sucked. Charlie’s burgers kicked ass.

  “So, you’re cleared to head home. You just need to finish with the paperwork.” He took a hefty bite, chewed, then swallowed. “Decide on a name?”

  “Lucia,” I said. “Lucia Leticia Slade.”

  “Leticia?” he asked, eyes turning liquid. “Mom will be over the moon. Wait.” His head dropped on his shoulders, and it took a few moments for him to meet my gaze. “Slade? You sure, Bambi?”

  “I’m sure, Cowboy.”

  “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “If you think it means I’m going to share a bedroom with you and have unlimited access to that magnificent cock of yours, then, yes.”

  “Fuck, baby. Just when I thought you couldn’t make me any happier.”

  With great difficulty, I set my burger back on the tray. The matter at hand required my full attention. “I named you as her father on all the paperwork. I wanted it to be on record, you know, in case anything happened to me.” I knew he’d die to protect my child. Couldn’t imagine anyone else taking better care of her.

  Judging by the look on his face, I’d given him the best gift in the history of gift-giving. The man who could never father his own child. The man who had saved me from myself. The man who loved me unconditionally, faithfully, reverently, unwavering in his commitment to me, not my name, but the lovesick girl inside.

  He coughed, clearly trying to cover his emotion, then choked out, “You know this means we’ll have to get married soon.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not raising a bastard child.”

  “Tuck. Marriage? I’m not ready for that. I’m still learning how to change a diaper. I haven’t even completely settled into the idea of living with you.”

  “Technically, and dare I say, biblically, the marriage thing should’ve happened first.”

  “Are you kidding me with this?”

  He laughed, smiling wider than the Grand Canyon. “Relax, Bambi. Not pushing the issue, just giving you a head’s up. It’s gonna happen. You’re giving Lucia my last name, it only makes sense that you own it, too.”

  “Tucker, please. Slow down. I just want to enjoy my burger for crying out loud. Fuck. You don’t even go to church. Why the hell are you dumping this biblical crap on me? I’m about to have a fucking heart attack.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa, lady. Language. Little ears,” he teased, pointing to the sleeping bundle of chub.

  Crap. I was a mother. Definitely time to start talking like one. Not that I knew ho
w mothers were supposed to talk. Which reminded me. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything.”

  “Rafael said something to me that I can’t shake.”

  “What, baby?”

  “He said my father had been pumping money into accounts under the name Aida Suarez since I was a child. It doesn’t make sense, does it? He couldn’t possibly know I’d be using that name someday. The money couldn’t be for me. What if it was for a real Aida Suarez.”

  “You think she might be your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want me to use my contact to look into it.”

  “I asked Tito. He shut me down. Said Rafael was playing games with me. But I could tell he knows something. He’s trying to protect me from the truth.”

  “Maybe for good reason. Maybe we should count our blessings and let this go.” Tucker paced the room, scratching his stubble. He stopped at the window, stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, and stared at the cloudy sky.

  I wanted to push, to beg, but I wouldn’t. If he said no, I’d leave it be. The man had done so much for me already. He’d saved me from myself. I was selfish to ask another thing from him.

  Shame washed through me. “Tuck. Never mind. You’re right. Maybe I should let this—”

  “I’ll do it on one condition,” he interrupted, turning to face me once again. “You let me handle this. You don’t worry about any of it. You worry about taking care of you and our daughter. You don’t question me about the investigation. You trust me completely with the information I find. Trust me to tell you only what you need to know.”

  “Deal.”

  “Deal?” His brows shot up. “No argument? That was too easy.”

  It was too easy. But I trusted him. With my life. It should have unnerved me how easily I conceded. But it didn’t. And I liked that it didn’t.

  “I just want to eat my burger,” I said, pulling my gaze from his gorgeous face and focusing once again on my lunch.

  Damn, I loved cheeseburgers. I was going to kiss Charlie so hard next time I saw him.

  I kissed Aida hard before leaving her and Lucia alone in the nursery. My new favorite thing in the world was watching Aida breastfeed, but I’d been hovering, and I could sense that she needed some privacy. Especially after she’d said, “Jesus, Tuck. I’m not going to break her. I need some breathing room here.”

  Lola moaned, as if saying, Yeah, dude. Give her a break, and plopped her ass at Aida’s feet. Except to eat, and run outside to relieve herself, the mutt hadn’t left Lucia’s side since we’d brought her home.

  I jogged down the wide staircase and paused when I hit the last rung, taking in the open living room. Stuffed Bambi sat on the coffee table. The pink, frilly bassinet perched in one corner of the antiqued leather couch, didn’t match the log cabin decor, but it belonged there, and oddly, it made the grand house feel like a home. Our home. God, my chest could barely contain the swelling muscle inside.

  I headed to the kitchen to make lunch when the doorbell rang. Roger Caldwell stood on the other side of the glass door in full police uniform.

  He greeted me with an unconvincing smile. “Tucker, good to see you. How’s the baby doing?”

  “She’s perfect, Rog.” I stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. “I’m about to make some lunch. Hungry?”

  “No. No. Thanks. I can’t stay.” He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Wanted you to be the first to know that Jonas Carver and three of his crew were arrested yesterday morning outside of Seattle. Long list of charges including human trafficking. Fucker had a handful of underage girls drugged and locked in a small room. All blonde and blue-eyed. Making movies. Sick white-power shit from what I understand. He won’t be back to bother you or yours. He’ll be locked up for a long time.”

  “Good news,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “So why do you look like you’re ready to jump out of your skin?”

  Roger inhaled, steeled his spine, and met me eye to eye. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed that crazy shit’s been going down in Whisper Springs since Rossi came back to town. Lot of it centered around The Truck Stop.”

  “What are you trying to say, Roger?”

  “Now that Carver’s no longer an issue, I assume you won’t need my help at the diner anymore.”

  “S’pose not. But it’s not my call.”

  “I have a family. Two girls. One of them special needs. I appreciate the extra income. I appreciate how you and Rossi watch out for your own. I just want you to know, I’m available if you need me for anything. So long as it’s above the law.”

  “Good to know, buddy. If my instincts are right about Tango, he’ll keep you under his employ. Pretty boy doesn’t like leaving his family unprotected.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” He turned as if to leave, then faced me again, thumbs hooked on his belt. “Officer McGuire’s family received an impressive anonymous donation yesterday. I suspect it came from the Rossi family, but if you had anything to do with it, thanks.”

  I did. But nobody needed to know. Officer McGuire’s wife and son would want for nothing. Ever. It was the least Tango and I could do. “How’s his family holding up?”

  “They want justice,” Roger said, dropping his head low. “Hope to God I can give them answers soon. We’ve got nothing on the bastard who took him down.”

  And they wouldn’t find a damn thing either. Tito had disposed of Turner’s body. All evidence of any foul play at Eagle Point Motel had been burned to ash in an unfortunate electrical fire, along with the owner’s body, which Tito had found in the bathtub of room number one.

  Roger and I said our farewells. I stood at the base of the stairs, aching to see my girls. When I heard Aida’s voice, soft and sweet, and a little unsure, singing “Dream a Little Dream,” I damn near crumpled into a blubbering mess. How was it possible to love so deeply and keep your cells from exploding?

  I wanted to join them. So much it hurt. But hell if I was going to interrupt their bonding time. Instead, I locked myself in my office and made the call.

  Conner picked up before the phone rang. “Slade. Starting to think you have a boner for me.”

  “Hey, Con. Have another job if you’re up for it.”

  “Anything for you, Tuck. Anything.”

  I gave him the rundown on Aida’s suspicions about her mother, and ended the call, confident he’d find any and every buried detail.

  Part of me hoped he’d find nothing but dead ends. I wanted Aida one hundred percent free from her old life. No ties. No responsibilities. No loose ends.

  I finished making lunch and carried it upstairs. When I entered, Aida stood at the window, her voluptuous hips swinging back and forth while she rocked and hummed and pressed her lips to Lucia’s ebony hair, holding her so fucking tight. The queen and her princess.

  Our gazes met through the window’s reflection. Her lips lifted in a smile. My heart soared.

  Chin to shoulder, she said, “I don’t want to put her down. I feel empty when she’s not in my arms.”

  I set our plates on the dresser and met her where she stood, snaking my arms around my girls, around my family. I pressed my lips to the top of Aida’s head. She hadn’t showered in days. Her hair was oily. Unbrushed. Dark circles framed her doe eyes. She wore nothing but one of my white Fruit of the Loom undershirts and a pair of loose fitting sweats.

  Breathtaking, soul-gutting perfection.

  There was nothing more beautiful than a woman holding her child.

  There was nothing more beautiful than a baby asleep in her daddy’s arms. Lucia was snuggled against Tucker’s bare chest, guarded by his corded muscles, wrapped tight in his embrace. Her little lips pursed and made a sucking noise.

  I bent low and pressed a kiss to Tucker’s forehead. His lids fluttered open, gifting me with the sight of those brilliant blue, dewy eyes.

  “How was your showe
r?” he asked.

  “Heaven.” I sighed, dropping my butt to the edge of the couch, bumping his hip. “She’s so content in your arms.”

  “Snuggle in. I can fit you both.” Tucker scooted deeper into the sofa, and offered me his free arm.

  Only half of my body could fit on the small edge, but I clung tightly to him, tangling my leg between his, pressing my nose into his chest, absorbing the heady scent of his bare skin.

  “Tucker.”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “I’m happy.”

  His chest rose and fell in one swift, hard motion.

  “I’m exhausted. My boobs hurt like hell. I haven’t done my nails in weeks. I desperately need a haircut. My skin is dull and dry. I’ve got twenty pounds of baby fat to lose. But I’ve never been this happy. And breastfeeding isn’t gross. Shitty diapers don’t bother me. I haven’t had an orgasm in weeks, and I’m still happy. And the best part is, I’m not scared. I’m not worried that all of this will be taken away from me.”

  “Baby,” he said on a breathy groan.

  “Thank you.” I squeezed him tighter. “Thank you for giving me this. For giving me normal. For giving me peace.”

  “If I gave you normal, you gave me extraordinary.”

  “Are you happy?” I asked him. “Do I make you happy?”

  “Baby. There aren’t words to describe what’s happening in my chest right now.”

  The doorbell rang. Reluctantly, I pushed to my feet. Through the glass door, Tito waved a hello at me. My heart dropped an inch at the sullen set of his features. He’d lost so much weight. He wore a full beard. His eyes, eyes that used to light up at the sight of me, remained dim. His teasing smirk was nowhere to be found. I feared I’d never fall victim to his devilish grin again.

  I opened the door and pulled him into my arms, foregoing our custom cheek kiss greeting, reveling in the knowledge that he was alive. God, I’d missed him.

  “Hey, Tits.”

  “Princess,” he half-groaned, half-whispered in my ear. He hugged me tighter than he’d ever held me, and buried his nose in my hair. He’d missed me, too.