Page 37 of Truck Stop Titan

I couldn’t blame her. The man had a way about him. Arms that made you feel safe. A deep, husky voice that soothed. And despite his large, menacing appearance, on rare occasion, I’d catch a look in his eye that promised he’d destroy anyone who hurt those he cared about, and there was no denying he cared about Mim, although I suspected, a man like Dane would never admit such nonsense out loud.

“Go back to bed,” he ordered.

As much as I wanted to be the one to soothe my niece, I knew she wasn’t ready. I nodded, whispered, “Thank you,” and retreated.

Eventually, I told my wounded ego to be quiet, and trusted that Dane had everything under control.

Morning came too soon. Small breaths hit my nose, coaxing me awake. I peeled one eye open, then the other. Warm hazel eyes met mine. Nose scrunched, Mim brushed hair out of my face, her small fingers tangling in my morning mane.

I smiled. She smiled back, tracing the angles of my face. My cheeks, my nose. My chin. My eyelashes. I waited, heart in my throat, while she studied me.

Mim smiled again, pushed a finger to her lips, warning me to stay quiet, then pointed to Dane, who was fast asleep on the sofa, one leg on the floor, the other cocked against the back of the couch. One arm lay across his chest, while the other was draped over his eyes. Even in sleep, the man was too much, daunting and larger than life.

I looked back to Mim, afraid to move, afraid to scare her away. She tangled her fingers in my hair once again, then closed her eyes.

I stared, my heart so full it overflowed through my eyes. When soft snores escaped her lips, I rolled over, inched myself off the bed, and made for the shower, my skin still tender from the night’s activities.

When I returned from the bathroom, Dane sat upright on the couch, eyes heavy with lack of sleep, but bless the man, he held two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Morning,” he mouthed, rendering me breathless and tingly.

He tracked my movements, his lids heavy with exhaustion.

I took the offered mug, hitched one leg on the sofa, and sat, facing the mountain of muscle. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Yeah,” he lied, avoiding my glare, and gestured toward the sleeping angel on the bed. “She had a rough night, though. Woke up three times after I went in there. Finally brought her in here.”

My guts roiled. No child should have reason for such horrible nightmares.

“What happened to her?” I asked, terrified of the answer.

Dane shifted, his attention moving to the floor. “Bad shit, gorgeous. Bad shit.”

“Tell me.”

“Details won’t do you any good.”

“How can I help her if I don’t know?”

Lifting the cup to his lips, he sipped, swallowed, glanced toward the bed, then met my eyes. “The guy was a predator. I don’t know how long he had her. Don’t know much other than I found her in a hole.”

That awful clench in my stomach pulled tighter.

Dane studied me, brows drawn. “You really don’t want to hear this.”

“I have to.” As much as I wanted to curl into the pain, I forced my spine straight.

“The room she was in had a bed. Cameras and lighting set up. There were toys. Some for kids. Some not. And that damn hole.” His breath hitched, and I watched his throat work, the muscles strained. “The physical wounds will heal.” He tapped his temple. “It’s what’s in here that’s gonna take work.” His eyes glazed over, lips drawn tight, as if haunted by a painful memory.

Oh God. Had he been abused as a child? I knew nothing. Nothing about that man’s life, past or present, yet I was trusting him with so much of mine.

“How did you find her?”

Silence.

“Did you know my sister?

“Met her once. She did a few odd jobs for some of my buddies when she was sober enough. Didn’t know about Mim, though.”

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