Page 107 of Truck Stop Tempest

“You were a child.” I thought of all the boys who had passed through Jeremy’s office. All the lives he’d destroyed. All the abuse I could have prevented had I only been brave enough, strong enough to speak up. To tell someone, anyone.

I hadn’t been strong enough. But Tito had.

“Is that why you killed Jeremy? So he couldn’t hurt anyone else?”

His arms fell to his sides and he stumbled back a step, eyes darkening.

“I didn’t do it. And I can’t tell you how much it kills me that you assumed…” Gaze aimed over my shoulder, he dropped his chin, shook his head. Huffed. “Six months ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to take him out. Only I wouldn’t have left any evidence.”

Oh, God. What did that mean? “And now?” I asked, unsure if I wanted clarification.

“Now? Now I have this bright blinding light challenging my dark urges, chasing them into the shadows. I’ve done horrible things. I’ve earned my place in Hell. And I wanted to drag as many sick bastards as I could down with me. But since the night Tango carried you out of that bloody hotel room, and you looked at me like you could see right through me, I haven’t needed to…Fuck.” He scrubbed his face, then dropped his hands. “I just want to be worthy. I need…” He cupped my face, those strong fingers trembling, and pressed his forehead to mine. “I need you to have a little faith in me.” His lips met my fevered skin, and moments passed before he pulled away. “I need to show you something. Can we go for a drive?”

I could’ve denied Tito. I could’ve walked away. Started over. Free from The Brotherhood. Free from Tito’s demons. He was offering me two choices: take my hand, accept me for who I am and never look back, or walk away, free and clear of all the ugliness. When I stared into those pleading, weary eyes, my whole body warmed, my soul sang, and I knew there was no choice. Tito was the only home I’d ever need.

I slid my hands down his body and laced our fingers.

“Let’s go.”

The smile that cracked his face was hands-down the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

What a beautiful thing to watch Tuuli put the pieces together, her wide eyes sharpening, then filling with tears. “The Rest Area Reaper?” she asked, never breaking her gaze from the images of the little girl on the screen.

A response wasn’t necessary. My brave beauty had figured it out.

“You and Tucker?”

I nodded, gnawing a rut across my bottom lip.

She smiled, watching the screen, nails tapping an erratic rhythm on the stainless-steel desktop, heels bouncing against the cement floor. After excruciating minutes, she turned to me. “This is where you were the night Jeremy was killed?”

“Yes.”

The screen cast a soft, eerie glow across her face, sharpening her angelic features. I gripped the sides of my chair to keep from pulling her into my lap.

“The mansion isn’t for troubled teens, is it?”

“Not exactly.”

“Those weren’t business trips you took with Tucker. You were rescuing girls.”

“Right.”

Dropping her hands to her lap, she turned to face me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Tuuli slumped into her chair, head falling back, fingers linked across her stomach. She swiveled her chair side to side and seemed to contemplate the ceiling. I waited, palms sweaty, gut churning, while she processed.

“Rest Area Reaper,” she mumbled.

I sunk deeper into my own seat. “Fuckin’ hate that name.”

She shrugged. “It’s fitting.”

“It would be fitting if I was allowed to send those pedophiles to Hell,” I grumbled, before contemplating the weight of my words.

Her head snapped up, eyes worried. “Do you want to?”

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