Page 116 of Truck Stop Tempest

“Yeah. Go.” God, her skin was cold.

“Wait.” Tuuli jerked away from me. “My mom.”

“Fuck, Moretti. Gotta get this show on the road. Long drive. Long fuckin’ night.”

“Dane,” I warned.

He huffed expletives. Someone grunted. I didn’t turn around.

Erik screamed, the sound much like the wails of the children I’d watched him break on those damn recordings.

Dane’s voice rose behind me, full of lethal warning. “Where’s Tuuli’s mom?”

“You’ll never find her…ow. Fuck.”

Unholy, fleshy, gurgled noises rose from the floor.

Tuuli buried her face in my chest, covering her ears.

“I’ll only ask one more time. Where. The fuck. Is. The bitch?”

Had to give Erik credit. The psychopath could take a beating. He sobbed. Screamed. Laughed, then yelled, “Over the fucking rainbow, assholes. She’s over the fucking rainbow.”

More screams. Then silence.

“Guy passed out. Sorry,” Dane grunted, his leather creaking as he rose to stand. “Don’t have time for this shit. Gotta hit the road.”

“No. No. No.” Tuuli tried to pull out of my arms. “Tito. My mom.”

Fuck. I was helpless to do anything but hold her tight and keep her from pissing off Dane. “Shh. It’s okay. I’ll find her. I’ll find her for you.” I stroked her hair and whispered in her ear. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

I couldn’t breathe. The air around us was thick with brutality and dripping with incitement. I pulled away from Tito, hoping to reach Erik, beat the truth from his vile flesh. Punish him for all the wrongs he’d committed.

Tito braced an arm around my waist, hoisting me off my feet. Holding me steady while I fought.

“Tuuli. You can’t. They’ll kill you, too. They’re Slayers.”

His words struck their intended target. I stilled, giving in to his unyielding hold on me. Slayers. I’d heard Jeremy and Jonas talk about the motorcycle club. Enemies of The Brotherhood. One of many.

“I promise. I won’t stop until I find her.” His rough, ragged voice drained the fight from my bones.

I believed him. He would find her. He wouldn’t stop until she was home.

My hands trembled. The rest of my body followed suit, crashing from the adrenaline rush.

“I need air. I feel sick.” I jerked out of Tito’s grip and bolted for the front door.

The sky lit with a blinding flash, followed immediately by an earth-shaking rumble. The storm was right over us.

I pushed through the door, the cowbell clunking its greeting, and sucked in a large dose of air, daring the storm to do its damage. Take me. Hurt me. Punish me. I stayed under the awning, back pressed against the white brick, and I watched lightning dance across the lake. No longer fearful.

My storm was over.

Erik was over.

Jeremy was gone.

The Brotherhood, soon, would be over.

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