Page 66 of Truck Stop Tempest

I laughed and passed Lucia into the eager arms of her aunt.

Missing the baby’s weight, I headed back to work, unable to shake the looming feeling of dread that’d followed me all day.

I could feel it coming. It being something terrible, building in the shadows, rolling and swelling like an oncoming thunderstorm.

Life had been going too well. Things had been too easy.

Sure, it’d only been weeks that I’d been living in luxury instead of squalor. Days since Tito had made me feel beautiful and wanted and worthy of a man’s attention. In my experience, the good days were few and far between.

I soaked them up like a gluttonous sponge.

I was happy. I was warm. I hadn’t suffered a hunger pang in weeks.

I had friends. A job. Tito.

Regardless, I could feel that cold, dark cloud lingering over my shoulder, whispering in my ear, I’m coming for you.

When my shift ended, I peeked my head into Slade’s office to say goodnight.

Her fingers worked the keyboard, gaze glued to the screen. “Let Roger drive you up the hill. I have to stay late tonight. Payroll.”

She looked up from her computer in time to catch my eye roll. Home was only a three-minute walk up the hill. You could see the house from the parking lot.

“Hey.” She raised her palms. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but those boys of ours want to keep us safe. That’s a battle we will never win.”

I nodded. “‘Night, Slade.”

I made my way to the back room, fumbled with my locker, clocked out, and headed out the back door to where Roger Caldwell usually parked.

I thought briefly, and foolishly that maybe that lingering feeling of dread was a bi-product of being tired, or perhaps it was PMS or the fact that I missed Tito.

I dared to let myself believe that maybe good times could indeed stick around.

Naive baby.

Roger’s truck sat empty. Perhaps he was stretching his legs. I walked toward the edge of the lot to catch sight of the lake, and that false security shattered in the blink of an eye.

Erik’s body cast a dark shadow a split-second before he grabbed my arm. “Tuuli.”

His pale skin turned yellow and sinister under the glow of the diner sign. He wore all black, from his combat boots to the beanie covering his head, and not his usual designer gear. No. Erik was dressed for dirty work.

Pinpricks poked at my skin.

“Aren’t you going to say hello? Give me a proper greeting?”

Lifting my chin to meet his glare, I asked, “What do you want?”

“I told your father I’d bring you home tonight. I’ve set the wedding date. We need to make plans. Time for you to come home. You’ve made your point.”

I stepped back. He followed, jerking my arm.

“What point would that be?” I asked.

Erik laughed, clamped his fingers tighter, and dipped his head low. “You got me.” His lips parted in a chilling grin. “I don’t fucking know what point you’re trying to make. I was just playing nice.”

With no warning, he slapped his hand to the back of my neck and fisted my hair. In one sharp breath, I was on the ground, kicking, clawing, struggling to find purchase, to rise to my feet, to fight, scream, breathe, to not collapse in defeat or fear.

To find my beast.

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