Page 96 of Truck Stop Tempest

“Anything new on Erik?”

“Guy’s a ghost. Cell’s inactive. No online activity. Bank accounts haven’t been touched. Got eyes on his parents, as well as anyone he’s ever so much as blinked at. Fucker is smart, I’ll give him that,” I said, heading back into the bedroom.

“We’ll get him. Feds are involved now. He’ll turn up one way or another.”

I looked at the clock. “I know, T. He will.” And fuck, I hoped I’d be the one to find him first. “I gotta go. Talk to ya later.”

I ended the call, dropped my ass to the mattress, and shoved my feet into a pair of black socks. Jeans next. Then boots.

Sunday. Fuck. Nausea rolled through me.

I love you, son.

Three deep breaths and I pushed to my feet, forcing the voices away, focusing on Tuuli. One goddamn hour. I could handle one hour. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I wiped sweat from my brow and forced one foot in front of the other, anxious as fuck, but grateful for another day. I had to seize every opportunity, make every moment with her count. I had to show her what I couldn’t verbalize. I had to let her know that she was worth fighting for.

You’re a woman worth fighting for.

My new mantra.

I studied my reflection, smiling, read the note Tito had left on the mirror, then made my way outside.

Birds celebrated the blue sky and bright sunshine with noisy songs, and the trees seemed to stand taller, arms raised in gratitude. I wanted to join them.

Nose to the sky, I inhaled, welcoming the burst of cool morning air into my lungs, allowing the fragrant new blooms to bombard my senses.

When I brought my gaze back down to Earth, the formidable figure standing in wait knocked all that fresh oxygen clean out of my system.

Tito leaned against his Mustang, one booted foot crossed over the other. He wore a light silver dress shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Both hands were shoved into his front pockets, and when I caught his appreciative gaze, the smile that broke loose across his scruffy face made my heart burst with a thousand tiny explosions.

He quickly set his expression back to stern, then came my way, hands fisted at his sides, strides unhurried. Even without his signature cloak, the man was beautifully intimidating—a thousand feet tall, a mile wide, and unfaltering in his brutal confidence.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The banging in my chest was painful.

My guts begged me to run to him. My feet remained glued to the ground.

“Goddamn, you give the sunshine a run for its money.” His arms coiled around me, pinning mine to my sides with a hug so tight I feared my infrastructure would crumble. I was left hanging, my feet dangling at his shins while he swung me around once, kissed my cheek, then lowered me back to the ground.

“I missed you,” he whispered, lacing our fingers and leading me to the passenger side of the car.

I’d missed him, too.

He waited for me to settle into the leather seat before closing the door.

I had no words. No breath. Not one coherent thought other than, I love this man.

He backed out of the driveway, lips pressed tight, knuckles white.

The thought of him as a helpless child at the hands of a monster who called himself a priest made my eyes well.

Tito shot me a quick glance, then focused ahead. “Hey. You okay?”

“You’re taking me to church.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

His eyes never left the road. “Because you’re my girl.”

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