Knights of the Road

by Q. Zayne

  Knights of the Road

  Truckers Stalk the Killer

  Curvy & Alpha Menage Suspense

  by Q. Zayne

  Copyright

  Do not post any of our stories on any site.

  Copyright ©2018 Hughes Empire. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the author except for brief excerpts in a review. Cover photo ©Deposit Photos and photographers, all rights reserved. The use of these photos doesn’t suggest endorsement by the photographers nor the models, nor does it imply anything about the models.

  Electronic book publication: June 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual businesses, entities, creatures or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All people and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. This work is for mature readers 18+.

  Visit the Q. Zayne Books website to learn about the High-heat book club. It’s an easy way to stay in touch—get exclusive previews and limited-time free books. QZayneBooks

  Dedication

  For the missing.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Disclaimer

  I. The Nightmare

  Into the Dark

  Story & Bath

  Shelby’s Mistake

  II. The Killer

  The Chase

  Rite

  Aftermath

  Epilogue

  At Home During the Hunt: Gia

  Preview: Spanking

  More Menage from Q. Zayne

  About the Author

  I. The Nightmare

  Into the Dark

  DEAR READER,

  Knights of the Road takes up where Truckers—Tyrone ends. For full enjoyment, read the series in order.

  Truckers (Buck & Gia)

  Truckers—Lyle

  Truckers—Tyrone

  Knights of the Road

  Anyone sensitive to being triggered may want to exit now.

  When I wrote Truckers, I intended it as a standalone short story. It was the first of a group of 3-on-1 ‘alphas-taking-curvy-virgins’ shorts. I followed it with Mechanics and Shrinks. Later, I wrote Hard Hats, with two men sharing a virgin instead of three. Most recently, three Pipe Layers initiate an untouched college student at her family’s lakeside cabin.

  Truckers became so popular, I wrote a sequel from the point of view of Lyle, my silver fox. For many reasons, it’s one of my favorite stories. His pain, redemption, and his finding such a good, fitting, fated love, moved me. He and Liliana are a remarkable couple. They had a tough journey to the happiness they found.

  Truckers—Tyrone surprised me by getting to me even harder than Lyle’s story. Tyrone is my youngest trucker, and his story came out deeper and grittier than I would have intended if I’d planned these books as a series. After all, this is menage erotica, not a novel. Tyrone entranced me, and I went with his story, even though it’s emotionally intense in ways that are unusual for short erotica. Shelby is strong and has the heart and courage to match Ty. I had to cut Tyrone’s story short. It was tough to do, but I have to publish often. Running out of money in Mexico isn’t something I want to experience.

  Thank you for your patience with the time it took to complete Knights of the Road. I started it in Merida, the capital of the Yucatan near the tip of Mexico, and finished it in view of the Caribbean sea near the Belize border.

  This is Tyrone’s story, and in a larger sense, it’s the story of a town split by violence, a town much like the one where I grew to adulthood. It was common for girls and young women to go missing and end up dead at the hands of predators.

  Those crimes continue, perpetrated by men who target girls and women of all kinds and of all ages. This story is passionate and idealistic. It’s also the story of people committed to creating a better world, and of friendships that help damaged people rise and create good lives. Community and polyamory influenced me deeply in my twenties, and I was a volunteer training assistant in a karate-based self defense program.

  Knights of the Road is not a romance, although it includes deeply-felt love and tenderness of a tough man for the woman who opened his heart. Tyrone and Shelby got together in the previous story. It’s not strictly erotica, although it includes hot, detailed sex scenes. In addition to one-on-one lovemaking and the deliciousness of multiple-men on one woman sex, it extends into intense rituals of honoring the victims and coming into power at multiple levels. It’s fantasy fulfillment multiple kinds. Part of that fantasy is justice and a safer world.

  When I was eighteen, one of my college classmates was raped. A few years later, a lover told me about her missing brother. He was still missing, many years after his disappearance. Those facts bear no resemblance to the details of what happened to the women or to Tyrone’s brother, yet those stories and other painful ones never leave me.

  One of the challenges in finishing this story is that the series shifted into romantic suspense with supernatural underpinnings. The concepts of expiation and redemption run through the series, as the men who have worked so hard to pull their lives together take it to a new level when they find love. They, and the women they love, are heroes. Although there are glimmers of powers beyond the norm, these people are at heart a celebration of outsiders I’ve known who overcome being shattered. It’s an homage to ordinary heroes, those who lose their lives too soon, those who deal with the challenges of PTSD, and those who grieve and find their way back to a full life, honoring the loved ones they’ve lost.

  Please note: Some of the material is painful, although the book concludes in a good place. It’s up to you whether reading disturbing material, detailed sex, mature situations, moral ambiguity, and potential triggers is okay for you.

  In Knights of the Road, you get to catch up with all the couples. At the end, in an outtake from Gia’s point of view, she and Liliana share happy news.

  I’m looking out at palm trees in the wind, not wanting to let go of this book. Perhaps, sometime ahead, the better life I envision will allow me to return to my knights.

  For now, I leave them to you.

  Q.

  Quintana Roo, Mexico

  TYRONE

  My phone vibrating on the nightstand woke me. It flashed electric blue like an updated bat signal. I checked the alarm clock. Three-thirteen in the morning, damn. But it was Lyle. I grabbed my cell and slid out of bed real easy to keep from waking Shelby.

  I answered the call in the bathroom, keeping my voice low. “What’s up?”

  “He struck again.”

  “Oh, shit, no.”

  “Hang on. The woman he grabbed is okay.”

  “What happened?”

  “He grabbed her when she got to her car, but she had great reflexes. She’s a postal worker, had dog repellent in reach.”

  “Good.” Part of me was cheering the woman for spraying the predator, part of me was amped to get back to Shelby and hold her in my arms. I hated to think of that killer out there, too damned close.

  “Where was this?”

  “At the mall. The new trucker, Ramon, was passing on his way to Stockton, saw her running like crazy across the highway and pulled over to help. He got a partial license plate on a white van that sped out of the mall’s lot. The driver was probably looking for the woman who got away. Ramon put in a call to his brother who works in the emergency room, in case the fucker goes in. The killer might not go to the hospital, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “I’m glad our alert to all the knights did some good.”

  “Yeah. Ramon was too modest to come out with it, but that stretch of road outside the mall could have been deadly
for the killer’s latest target. There’s no place to hide. Ramon’s fast action probably saved her life.”

  “Wow. It feels like it was meant to happen. That he had to be right there for her, right then.”

  “Yeah, I feel that, too. The clerk, her name’s Cass, was willing to call the police. He stayed with her and took notes. The killer was wearing a hoodie and shades. She did well on the description despite that. Fair skin, freckles, lean, tall, strong, wide mouth, a crooked incisor. No tats or anything that she noticed, but the guy was covered from wrists to ankles. Had on dark blue jeans and dark running shoes. Ramon confirmed the vehicle. Definitely a white cargo van, no side windows, like Shelby said.”

  “Thanks. That helps a lot.”

  “Sorry for the wake-up. I’ve got to slam to finish this run, and I wanted you and Shelby to know the killer is still here. No big stretch to guess he’s pissed. This is the second woman to get away from him. Thanks to Cass, his eyes and sinuses must burn like hell.” Lyle’s deep chuckle came through the phone true to life. It was a sound that helped me through the toughest days in the pen, and it helped me now.

  “Thanks, man. I’m glad you called. I’m glad the killer picked wrong again. I agree, though, he’s probably angry and frustrated. He may strike again soon.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking.” Lyle paused. “You two take care.”

  “Will do. You drive safe and give my love to Liliana.” I changed hands on the phone and rubbed my damp palm on my towel.

  Lyle and the rest of the knights had a good watch on killer’s hunting ground. Not likely I’d get any more sleep, though.

  “Always drive safe, man, just the way I taught you.”

  “Good. You’ve gotta be extra careful now, stick around to watch your baby grow up.”

  “I’m on that.” His voice was low and thoughtful, furred with the gratitude and wonder that lit his eyes since Liliana came into his life.

  I knew how he felt. I left my phone by the sink and hurried back to Shelby.

  I slid into bed slowly, slipped in right next to her and spooned her. She murmured in her sleep and pressed back against me. I pressed my lips to the back of her neck, inhaling the sweet Shelby scent from her hair.

  A pale hand covered her face. Her eyes stared wide, not seeing me. Her throat worked, trying to scream. Her hair tangled around her head. Gouges stitched with blood dripped on a big arm gripping her below her breasts.

  His hand looked like a dirty sports bandage, that flat, default Caucasian color.

  My feet wouldn’t move. My hands hung like sandbags. I couldn’t lean forward. A yell strangled in my throat. I couldn’t get it out, couldn’t swallow. It was worse than being jumped and pinned. I couldn’t see what held me.

  Shelby jerked her head back. A blur, her arms and legs striking at him.

  The guy shrieked. He had no face, an open maw with bad teeth. A fringe of ginger hair, pale as a ghost, clammy-looking as fungus. He looked like a deadly mushroom come to life.

  Silvery electric-blue strands encircled my arms and torso. They held me tight as a lasso. If this was a movie, I’d breathe deep and break out of them. I gasped hard and did it.

  I bounded across the room.

  Shelby stood free, shaking and triumphant.

  A man-sized pile of what looked like shit lay on the floor.

  I landed hard on the bed, from hard dreaming to hard awake with a violent fall from the sky.

  I read it’s a physiological thing, but that didn’t help. I felt that drop, about to die, as if I took a header off a building and discovered I wasn’t Superman.

  In the dream, I was super something—we both were.

  That part intrigued me. What had my balls crawling, was the menace in the nightmare. I felt it strong as a jolt from a live wire. That shit man wanted to kill her.

  I wiped sand from my eyes and rolled upright. Rumpled sheets on her side of the bed. Where the fuck was Shelby?

  I fought to make my voice calm. “Hey, love, where are you?”

  She’d been through a lot. Just because I had a bad night, no reason to mess up her morning.

  Not a sound and no coffee aroma. My heart thudded in my ears. Naked, I kicked off the tangled sheet and jumped out of bed.

  “Shelby.” The place felt empty. The bathroom door stood open. If she showered, it was a while ago. It wasn’t steamy and fragrant from her. I jerked on my briefs and hustled into the kitchen.

  Empty as a discarded shell. Where the hell was she? She promised to be careful. There was a fucking maniac out there.

  The note on the table registered through my blaze of panic.

  Hey, Ty, sweet man. Don’t worry about me. Ran out for breakfast for us. Save your appetite. BRB.

  Be right back. She wasn’t, and there wasn’t a time on the note. I rushed into the bathroom. Shower stood cold, walls wet. She’d used it, but so long ago, no steam remained on the chrome. The mirror hung clear as new, so it had time to dry. It showed my wild eyes, my hair with the new dual razor lines over my ear. Train tracks, she called them, for our train into a happy future. I loved her, loved that optimism, that blend of sweetness and brightness that was such a great fit for teaching kids. I gripped the edge of the sink.

  Think, man. Where did she go? Breakfast for us. Probably Daisy’s, our favorite place nearby. I light-footed to the bedroom and tugged on my jeans. Balanced to get on a shoe, tilted, plumped on the bed to do it right. My brain called me, and I dug for my phone.

  Dialed Shelby. It rang and rang. My heart got bigger, rose and blocked my throat.

  Chill man, maybe she just ran into a friend, stopped for coffee. I knew she didn’t. The dream kept hold of my balls.

  He had her, he had her. I didn’t know how, but he had her.

  I dialed Daisy’s on the kitchen phone. I cut through the alto voice that reached me over the clatter of dishes.

  “Hey, hey, Bobbie, right? This is Tyrone, the guy with the tiger stripe tats from down the street. Yeah. Yeah, right, the trucker. You seen Shelby this morning? No?” I tried to sound cool, didn’t make it.

  “Listen, if you see her, please tell her to call me right away. Yeah, thanks.” I swallowed, spit-less.

  My vision blurred. The receiver in my hand made no sense. The emergency button came into focus, and it was useless. In one hard punch, Shelby’s refusal to go to the police about the abduction made total sense to me. I couldn’t report this. I knew what I knew, but procedures didn’t allow for that. I was in no way anti-police. Many of them did a damned fine job, putting themselves on the line and serving right. There were bad ones, as in any line. Didn’t make them all wrong. But I was on my own with this. I missed the phone cradle, then hung it up right.

  I yanked on a T-shirt. No, no I wasn’t on my own. I grabbed the phone and speed-dialed Lyle.

  My feet got way ahead of my body. I hit the hall at a dead run.

  The floor dropped out from under me. I grabbed the wall. She was gone.

  A cold hand clutched my heart. I never felt anything like it, not even cornered in the shower. In the pen, anger and outrage got me through a lot. With the safety of the woman I loved on the line, I had no defenses.

  It took its sweet time kicking in, but fury surged from behind my balls to flame in my chest. I slammed down the stairs yelling her name.

  A small, bright-eyed beast in me knew she wouldn’t answer, knew I was living my nightmare.

  Story & Bath

  I DROVE, WATCHING FOR that white van every place on the killer’s route. I veered out to all the out of the way sites I marked on my map as possible future dump sites, places near DMW’s hunting ground that matched the characteristics of his previous dump sites.

  My hands clutched the wheel, and my right thigh ached. He didn’t use the same body dump site twice, so far, but I checked the previous ones, too, when I ran out of places to look.

  My gut said he’d stay in the same terrain he’d been using. Given that she foiled him the first time, h
e wouldn’t risk taking Shelby farther away from the highway than he needed to go. I couldn’t think about the rest of it. I couldn’t stand it. The thought of her alone with him.

  My heart raced. My hands made the wheel slippery. With every hour that passed, the odds of finding her alive narrowed. I’d sent her picture and a description of the van and the killer to our network from my tablet in my rig. Every trucker in the area searched with me. That kept me sane.

  They all checked in, Lyle, Buck, Judd, Ramon, and guys I knew in passing from truck stops and pancake breakfasts. A few who lived in town came to games I coached. Their voices, and knowing their eyes were sharp for that white van, kept my hope alive when I felt torn apart.

  Late in the night, Lyle radioed me to go home. He swore he’d wake me on the house phone. So I went.

  Finding her back in our bed knocked the breath out of me. I ran to her.

  “Shelby. Oh, Shelby.”

  “I got away. I got away again, Ty. I had to come back to you. Oh, Tyrone. I’m sorry I couldn’t call. He took my phone. When I got here, all I got was your voice mail.”

  “I ran out so crazed, I left my phone in the bathroom. It’s alright. You made it home.”

  I held her. All that coiled strength in her let go. She shuddered and sobbed in my arms. No less strong, she released the pain of what she’d been through. I rocked her on my chest, being with her, stroking her back, and murmuring love to her all through it.

  She finished with a snuffle, and I handed her my clean handkerchief.

  One good thing I saw my father do, a long time back when my mother lost the baby that would have been my younger sibling, he held her on his lap and gave her his hankie.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Somehow, we each survived and found each other. Shelby was my miracle. Again.

  “I love you, Shelby. Getting you back after you being gone like that. Damn.” I crushed her to me.

  “I thought of you. I thought of you every minute, Ty. I felt you catching me, back when I fell in your lap, your fast response to protect me. The smells and feel of the vase room at the cemetery came back to me. Feeling safe with you, even though you were a stranger, and that man was out there hunting me. No way I’d let him stop me coming back to you.” She swallowed, pushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. Her eyes shifted from dulled to flashing to dulled.