Page 78 of Truck Stop Titan

“Satan’s Slayers.”

“Yes. And before you ask, I can’t talk about them.”

Eyes narrowed, she studied me, making my guts twist. Then she nodded. “I understand.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t. Eventually, curiosity would get the best of her and that shit would be an open wound that never healed between the two of us.

“Are you still with them?”

“No.” My ticker dropped in my chest. I didn’t want to elaborate, but I couldn’t lie, not to her. “Well. Not really.”

“What does that mean,notreally?”

“It means I left. Walked away. But you’re never truly out. Unless you’re dead.” I hit her with a hard glare, fearing she’d file that info into herReasons I Should Stay Away from Danefolder.

So, when she smiled and said, “I saw a biker at the diner the other morning,” my worn nerves began to snap, one by one, sharp needle pricks striking up and down my spine.

“How’d you know he was a biker?”

“Motorcycle. Leather vest.”

“He give you any trouble?”

“No.” She laughed. “I was across the lot.”

Moriah tried to hide a yawn behind her hand, eyes watering, reminding me it was time to hit the road. I pushed to stand, but Moriah gripped my shoulders, holding me down. “Dane.” She stepped between my knees. “Please stay. Stay with me tonight.” Her fingers snaked through my beard, dusting my jaw. “Please?”

Fuck. I was toast. Burnt and buttered.

I needed to go. Find out why the Slayers were in town. But damn how I needed her invitation, how I needed to just…be. For one fucking night.

I kissed her chest. Her neck. Her chin. Then gave that luscious ass a hard slap. “Get in bed. I have to make a few calls.”

“But you’ll stay?”

Fuck me, those pink cheeks and sleepy eyes did a number. “I’ll never be able to say no to you, gorgeous.”

I waited for her to settle under the covers, then dug my boxers out of the dryer, found my phone, and headed to the balcony, dialing Moretti.

# # #

“Wow. You were hungry,” Tuuli said, winking at Mim while she cleared our plates.

Tito’s wife looked like she weighed all of ninety pounds in her Truck Stop T-shirt and khaki pants, apron strings wrapped around her waist at least twice. But that little blonde waitress glowed. She looked far younger than her twenty-plus years, and I suspected that was why Mim took to her so well.

Mim bounced in her seat, nodding, because damn, that girl had chowed, clearing her plate before stealing my bacon. Moriah’s breakfast, however, sat mostly untouched.

Tuuli shot me a nervous grin. “More coffee?”

She had witnessed the damage I could do the night I’d taken Erik Meyer off her hands and sent that racist pedophile kicking and screaming to the bowels of hell. She had nothing to fear from me, ever, but she was wise in keeping that fear forefront.

“Please.” I tapped the side of my cup.

“Be right back.” With a measured grin, she sauntered away.

I searched the diner for Slade or Tango, thankful neither of them had shown their faces. Tango had yet to confront me about my confession to James, but I had no delusions. A shitstorm was headed my way, and rightfully so. I risked bumping into them at the diner, but since I wasn’t leaving town, I figured the sooner we dealt with my crimes, the better. Tango and I would never get along, never be friendly, but we were damn well going to share space, and we were damn well going to keep things civil, for our women, if nothing else.

Mim sat to my right, Moriah the opposite side of the table, nails tapping the red Formica. She’d been quiet all morning.

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