Page 107 of Truck Stop Titan

“Morning.” A shuttered breath. “You okay?”

“Sorry about ghosting on you last night.” I rubbed at the godawful kink in my neck. “Wasn’t in any condition to be around people.”

“Okay,” came her simple reply. No judgement. No irritation. Just acceptance. “We’re at the diner. Charlie opened early for us. I ordered your favorite.”

God, that woman.

“Be there in a few.”

I turned to head up the trail, anxious to hold my ladies. Mindful of my throbbing hip, I took it slow until my gears warmed up. My phone buzzed with a text from Prez.

We’re in town. You spot Hammer, stay clear. He’s ours.

Ten different responses came to mind, none of them friendly. So, I shoved my phone into my pocket, and made my way up the hill, pausing at the crest.

The Truck Stop lot was empty aside from an older model Civic. I spotted my girls through the window and stopped dead. That damn organ in my chest shifted, settling in an awkward, yet not entirely uncomfortable spot, its thump, thump, thump beating a soothing rhythm.

Another step, and the glint of chrome from the right of the building caught my eye. I stayed to the tree line until a Harley came into view. A bike I knew too well, half-hidden behind the trash dumpster, yet facing the highway, readied for an easy getaway.

Hammer.

I did not want to deal with his shit.

I shot Prez a quick text, then made my way across the lot.

Mim spotted me through the window. Smiled. Waved. Bounced in her seat. Moriah pressed her nose to the glass and made a funny face, making Mim laugh, and damn if that ridiculous sight didn’t release a shit-ton of weight off my shoulders.

I joined them, dropping a kiss on Mim’s head, then slid next to Moriah, pulling her against me and whispering, “I’m sorry I didn’t come back last night. My head was a mess.”

That gorgeous, freckle-faced angel only smiled, whispered, “I understand,” and passed me a mug of coffee. “I was scared, too.”

She lifted her chin for a kiss, and I didn’t hold back. Mim giggled, and I gave her a wink before straightening in my seat and scanning the dining room, again, for Hammer.

No sign of the bastard, and that worried me something fierce.

One man sat at the bar, his dress shirt pulled tight across his slim back as he hunched over his plate. The red-headed waitress filled napkin holders, and Charlie, the Truck Stop’s infamous chef, whistled a tune through the service window. When he spotted me, he raised a hand in greeting. I offered a chin nod, then studied Mim. She didn’t look the least bit worse for wear after her late-night adventure.

Moriah, on the other hand, had dark circles under her eyes, and wore the same clothes she’d had on last night.

“Did you sleep at the Rossis’?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, gnawing on her lower lip, her gaze bouncing to Mim. “Well. One of us slept, anyway.”

“You should’ve gone home.”

Her warm palm landed on my thigh. “I wasn’t going to leave you here. Besides, Slade insisted we stay in her spare bedroom. It was almost morning already.”

I stared at the little girl across from me, scrambling for the right words, still shaken by the thought of losing her. Seemed like a good time to offer words of wisdom, but fuck, was that my job, or Moriah’s? Was it my place to lecture, to scold?

Before I could voice my thoughts, the cowbell rattled, announcing a customer, drawing everybody’s attention to the front of the dining room. Rocky barreled through, a thousand watts of amped energy, rumpled clothes, and a wild head of messy hair. He sprinted our way, his shoes squeaking on the checkered tile when he skidded to a stop at our table.

“Hey, guys!”

“Morning, kid,” I mumbled.

Tango followed behind, fresh as a fucking daisy, shirt and slacks pressed, face smooth as a baby’s butt. God damn pretty boy.

“Dane.” He nodded, skimming over me, and focusing on Moriah. “Morning, Moriah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, glanced at the kids, then met me eye to eye, and cleared his throat. “Can’t tell you how sorry I am for the scare last night.”

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