Page 114 of Truck Stop Tempest

Erik crouched, pushing her head to the floor. “Don’t fucking move,” he ordered, untangling his fingers from her hair and stroking her head like she was a goddamn dog.

Took every ounce of control I had not to end him where he stood.

I stayed put and attempted to draw his attention away from Tuuli. “I told you, lay hands on my girl again, you’ll be fishing your fingers outta the lake.”

He rose to his full height, turned to me, and replied, “Told you, she was mine before she was born.”

“Yeah? Explain how that works, how you think you can own any girl?”

“Bitch was bought and sold while she was still in her mama’s fat belly. Now that Jeremy’s dead, I own Mommy, too. Lots of men willing to pay top dollar for that pussy. I’ll give every one of them a whack at her, soon as I’m finished taking my fill.”

So, Erik had Tuuli’s mother.

Through my periphery, I watched Tuuli crawl backward, rise, then slip through the kitchen doors, quiet as a mouse.

That’s my girl. Hide.

“I have it on good authority you don’t like pussy. I’ve seen the videos. You and Jeremy.”

Idiot came at me. No plan of action. Pure hatred. Pure adrenaline. His first strike was clumsy, slowed by the weight of his wet clothes no doubt. The second hit home because I’d allowed it, giving him a sliver of hope, but I didn’t strike back, not yet. Instead, I moved deeper into the hallway, drawing him farther away from Tuuli.

“You’re fucking dead,” Erik sputtered, coming at me again.

The dim lighting from the exit signs offered little aid. Bad for Erik, good for me. I’d always worked better in the dark. The pale giant came at me again and I struck him in the solar plexus, only enough to knock the wind out of his sails, and he stumbled backward. I struck again, a chin tap, holding back. I wanted him conscious but hurting.

His nose was my next target. I only struck hard enough to break the cartilage. Let him know I wasn’t fucking around. His hands whipped to his face, leaving his midsection wide open. I took another shot, landing a body blow. The piece of shit crumpled, landing right where I wanted him, at my feet. At my fucking mercy.

The light flickered. Came on. Went dark again.

Tuuli pushed through the door holding Charlie’s rifle to her goddamn shoulder. “Where’s my mom?”

Erik looked up, pure, murderous hatred rolling off him in waves. “I should’ve killed you the night I ended Jonas.” He wheezed through his pain. “I should’ve fucked your ass and slit your throat.”

Her gasp echoed, bouncing off the brick walls. “It was you?”

Fuck. Fuck. The situation was turning to shit. “Tuuli. Put the gun down.”

“Back off, Tito,” Tuuli ordered, voice booming, gun aimed at Erik’s midsection.

“Where is my mom?” she asked again, deep and threatening.

“Won’t matter.” Two deep breaths. “By the time you find her, there’ll be nothing left to save.”

Crack! The butt of the rifle hit Erik’s forehead. He screamed, loud and shrill, arms raised to shield his head.

His cries turned to laughter. Crazed. “The Banshees have her. Jesus Christ. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” She raised the gun again to her shoulder, aimed, and took a deep breath.

“Tuuli. Don’t do this.”

“He’ll never stop hurting people.”

I didn’t recognize her voice anymore.

“Tuuli. Listen. Trust me. Don’t do this.”

She stepped closer, gun aimed at Erik’s head.

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