Page 7 of Truck Stop Titan

How was the woman so calm?

I nodded, then moved to the bed, settling on the edge and resting the girl’s weight on my thigh.

Slow and steady, Leticia lifted the shirt. Inch by inch she revealed the bruises, the sores, and when the child’s hips came into view, I pinched my eyes shut.

I’d lose my shit if there was evidence of what I’d suspected Wilson had done to the little girl.

Leticia tapped my arm, then tugged the shirt higher, and we managed to remove the article of clothing.

The next hour was pure torture. We weighed the child. Bathed her. Dressed her in a small hospital gown. And finally. Finally. Thank fuck. Leticia gave her a sedative, and damn, I was jonesing for some of that shit, too.

Even in her drug-induced rest, the child didn’t release me. So, I maneuvered into her small hospital bed, lay back, and waited for her body to go limp.

Soon as I could pry myself from her side, I would leave. Hit the open road, and never look back.

# # #

“Dane,” a soft voice whispered. “Dane.” Small fingers nudged my shoulder.

Between my arms, someone stirred, something small and bony striking dangerously close to my groin. I peeled open one eye, and then the other, the dimly lit room coming into focus. Soft hair tickled my nose, my senses waking with the scent of sweat and antiseptic.

“Fuck.” I grumbled, my stretch halted by the dead weight on my arm, the small, unconscious child breathing shallow breaths against my neck.

“Dane.” Slade and her bewitching smile came into view. “Here. Let me help.”

“Don’t wake her,” I growled.

“A high school marching band couldn’t wake her right now. She’s sedated. She’ll sleep through most of the day.” Slade curled the girl into her arms, allowing me freedom to roll off the small bed.

I stretched the kinks from my spine.

“You did a good thing last night,” she said, laying the girl on her back.

My stomach revolted, the child’s terror too fresh in my mind, my flesh sore where she’d carved grooves with her dirty little nails.

Slade tucked blankets around the sleeping kid. “We called the psychologist. She’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Good. That’s good.” I nodded, calculating how far I’d be from Whisper Springs by then, the girl nothing but a fading nightmare.

“C’mon.” Slade nodded toward the door. “I made you coffee.

“Thanks. But I need to hit the road.” Last thing I needed was to hang out with Slade, the woman a blaring reminder of all I’d lost.

“No.” Hands to hips, she gave me a motherly scowl. “You need breakfast. Coffee. Then you can go.”

“Thanks, Blondie. But I’m good.”

“Dane. Please.” She dropped her arms, pleading, “Stay.”

A thick lump stuck in my throat. Only good thing I’d done in my life was help Slade get my pregnant cousin free of my piece of shit father.

We hadn’t saved Addy from the crazy that cursed my family, but her son, Rocky, thrived with parents who would give him the world and who would die to protect him. I couldn’t have asked for more, aside from being in his life, which was a no-go because I would die to protect him, too. And he would never be safe if the club knew he was my flesh and blood, or that I’d taken part in setting him free.

I stared at a dent in the newly polished hardwood, the back of my eyes prickling, my throat thick, raw. “Thank you.”

Blue painted toenails came into view, and I caught a whiff of something akin to peaches, a scent that suited Slade. “Thank you for what?” she asked, too damn close for my liking.

I stepped back, meeting her soft gaze. “You know.”

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