Truck Stop Titan Read online

  Copyright©2019 Krissy Daniels

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book in any form or by any means whatsoever without written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Kiss Me Dizzy Books

  Cover Design by:

  Damonza.com

  www.damonza.com

  Editing by:

  Madison Seidler

  www.madisonseidler.com

  Proofreading by:

  E-book Formatting Fairies

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  Formatting by:

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  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Acknowledgements

  Other Books by Krissy Daniels

  For those of us who are not so easy to love

  Dane

  “Hold still.” Hammer gripped my hair in a tight fist, his rank breath blowing across my face.

  “Jesus.” I shifted my ass on the hard stool, gripping my knees to keep from punching the bastard. “Just get it done.”

  The ugly fucker sneered, peering down at me, his gaze unsettled. “You want that piece of glass outta your forehead, or not?”

  “I wanna get this fuckin’ show on the road.”

  “Then maybe you should’a shot that tweaker instead of wrestling him through the window.” He jerked my head back. “This is gonna hurt. Close your eyes.”

  Hammer yanked. I winced, blinking against the pain. Glass clinked in the sink. An unholy fire burned above my right eye. The stench of alcohol seared my lungs.

  Pinching the wound closed, he got busy with the liquid stitches, then held my skin in place while the glue dried.

  Screams echoed through the house, terror laden cries of a child, amping my adrenaline to dangerous levels.

  “What are we doing here?” I growled, rising to stand.

  Hammer hadn’t offered details as to why we’d come to Wilson Kyle’s cabin, other than we were collecting a debt. Clearly, he’d visited before, as he knew where to find the spare key.

  “You’re here for backup.” He pointed a bloody finger in my direction. “Not to ask questions.”

  I turned to check the damage, meeting my own eyes in the mirror, hating what I found in their depths, hating what I’d become. “What’s with the girl?”

  “Not your fucking business.” Hammer tossed the bloody cotton balls in the trash, then stomped toward the back room shouting, “Jesus, kid. Shut the fuck up!”

  The man in the bathtub groaned, the sound a bubbly gurgle. Good. I wanted him conscious. I tore back the curtain and knelt, pinching his chin to keep his focus on me.

  “You’re gonna burn today. Hope you know how much it kills me I can’t stick around to watch.” I patted his cheek.

  Pleading eyes bulged, the man thrashing against his binds.

  “You know why this has to happen, right?”

  He stilled, urine staining his jeans in a slow spread. Yeah. He knew why he had to die.

  Still, I reminded the sick fuck. “That girl. What is she? Five? Six? She’s fucked for life. She’ll have nightmares for years. She’ll probably end up in foster care, with more sick bastards. Most likely, she’ll end up on the street, sucking diseased cock like yours in exchange for her next fix.”

  What Kyle had done to that little girl, what I’d walked in on, broke something in me, brought to surface buried memories, the scenes of the Slayers and what they’d done to my cousin, Addy, after they’d thought she’d betrayed them.

  I was one hundred percent a Satan’s Slayer, from my first ride, my first toke, my first fuck, and my first kill. I’d done time for my brothers. I had scars to prove my loyalty, but the fucker lying beneath me? The pedophile motherfucker? He ruined me. The fact that one of my brothers had stood by watching and hadn’t dismembered that piece of shit?

  Final nail in the coffin.

  I was done.

  I yanked the gag from Kyle’s mouth, shoved the funnel between his teeth, then poured what was left of the gasoline down his throat, making him swallow.

  Then I landed two strikes between his eyes, because I wanted him to hurt, and dragged him down the hall, to the back bedroom, past the woman lying on the floor, and to the hole in the center of the room. The dirt prison that was currently occupied.

  “Jesus, Hammer. Get her outta there.”

  “She ain’t moving,” Hammer growled, standing hands to hips, looking down at the vacancy in the hardwood. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m jumping into that pit.”

  “Jesus H Christ.” I shoved Hammer aside, grunted, “Check on the woman,” then dropped to all fours, and ducked my head into the dark hole, covering my mouth and nose, the stench too much for even vermin like me to bear.

  My guts protested, twisting into fierce knots. The tiny child wore a man’s dirty white T-shirt, the collar sliding off her bony shoulders, the hem dusting her feet. Her head hung low, offering me a view of her wild mane, which had at some point been braided, but was mostly a tangled mess.

  One blanket lay bunched in the corner of the five-by-five dirt cell. In the opposite corner, a bucket.

  “Hey, Little Lady.” I lowered a hand. “Wanna get out of there?”

  The screaming stopped, replaced by heavy, erratic breaths.

  “This fucker ain’t gonna hurt you no more.” I sank lower, hoping to get a better handle on her situation.

  She shuffled backward, knocking dirt chunks off her newly dug prison walls.

  Behind me, grunts, feet shuffling. Hammer yelled, “She isn’t breathing. Goddammit. She ain’t breathing.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to find my brother-in-crime inspecting the woman’s neck and chest, tearing at the collar of her blouse.

  Wilson moaned, then mumbled. “The junkie slut is dead, asshole. Get away from my Dollie. She’s mine.” At the sound of Wilson’s voice, the little one screamed again, backing into the corner, thrashing with rabid sobs.

  “Trailer, we need to ghost. You can’t save her, she’s too far gone.”

  “Not leaving her here.”

  Videos played in a loop on Kyle’s computer screen. One kid after another, boys and girls alike. Kids he’d filmed at the park, the mall, fucking restrooms. It was only the girl below my feet that stopped me from shredding the molester with my bare hands.

  “I’m gonna put this guy in the hole, Little One. I’m gonna drop him in the dirt, and he’s never coming out. So, unless you wanna stay down there with him, I need you to take my hand so I can pull you out of there.”

  Out from the dark corner she scrambled, eyes lifted to mine, wide, red-rimmed, and sunken. I lowered my arm, she grabbed hold, and I raised her out of the god damn earth. The second her feet hit the ground, the child crumpled, then kicked, hands and feet skidding on the floor, scrambling to get to the dead woman.

  Wilson cried, “Dollie. My Dollie. Baby, come here!”

  One fist to the nose wasn’t enough to shut him up
, so I struck again. Then again, ’cause damn, there was no better balm to a blistering rage than the crack of bones under your knuckles.

  He tracked the little girl, his mouth moving, nothing but bloody gurgles coming out. Sick fuckin’ loon.

  Hand around the man’s throat, I dropped him in the grave, pulled the floorboards back into place, and nailed those fuckers down, keeping one eye on the kid, and one on my brother.

  The child curled around her mother’s body, hugging her round belly, petting her cheek. It was then I took a good look at the dead woman sprawled on the floor, a dirty needle stuck in her arm. Mick. She’d done a few odd jobs for the club. Cleaning. Cooking. She’d show up for a few months, then disappear. Didn’t know she had a kid. Couldn’t believe she was pregnant. Killed me, seeing that baby bump. How could a woman so battle-worn and emaciated carry a child?

  The house of horrors was about to become ash. I moved to grab the kid, and the grief and fear that bubbled from her throat split my soul into jagged shards. With all the strength she had in that tiny body, she curled around her mother, clinging for dear life.

  “We need to go, Little One.” I forced an arm around her middle, trying to pry her away.

  She stiffened but didn’t let go, screaming silent sobs into her mama’s hair.

  “Please, kid.” I bent, pressing my lips to her ear so our convo stayed out of my brother’s earshot. “Don’t make me leave you here. Your mama’s gone. I can’t help her. But I can help you.”

  More with the crying, and snot, and desperate attempts to rile her mother’s corpse.

  “We go now, Trailer, or you’re burning with them.”

  Fuck. Leaving the girl was not an option. Visions of Addison’s final days played through my head, poking the embers of that ever-present burn, leaving an acrid taste in the back of my throat.

  The burden of my fuck-all life had never weighed so heavy than it did when I pried that hysterical child’s fingers from her mother’s body. I absorbed her kicks and scratches and spitting hysteria, eventually shrugging off my cut and cocooning her in the heavy leather to prevent further injury to either of us. Took every ounce of self-control I owned to keep my shit together for that little girl.

  With heavy steps, I made my way to the back door, past the overturned furniture, emptied drawers, and smashed electronics. Not sure what Hammer had been looking for, but judging by the trail of profanities following in his wake, he was leaving empty-handed.

  I looked down at the girl in my arms, sickened by her pale skin, her bony frame, but awed by her spark, her fight. God damn. Wide hazel eyes. Auburn waves. Freckles. Just like my Addy.

  Fuck me. Fuck my life.

  “You’ll have to do the honors,” I told Hammer before yanking open the truck door.

  He ran a hand over his bald scalp, took one last drag, then used his cigarette to light the wick sticking out of his glass bottle. He tossed the bomb, hitting the fuel-soaked porch.

  We didn’t wait for the house to catch fire. We’d made sure it would burn.

  #

  Thank fuck we’d brought the Jeep, or the ride down from the mountain would’ve been god damn impossible. Took both arms and one leg for me to keep that baby still, and a good twenty minutes before she passed out from exhaustion.

  Silence hung like a third wheel in the cabin of that vehicle.

  “Gonna tell me what the hell happened back there?”

  “No.” Hammer sucked a final drag from his Marlboro, then chucked it out the window. “And you speak a word of it to anyone, I’ll skin you myself.”

  I’d never had cause to question my brother, but damn, my hackles were raised. “Prez know we were on that run?”

  “Yep,” he lied, scratching his jawline just below his ear. His one tell.

  “That was Mick.”

  Hammer nodded, then pounded the steering wheel. “Damn shame. She’d been clean for three weeks.”

  “Did you know she had a kid?”

  Jaw clenched, he nodded.

  “Kyle Wilson the girl’s dad?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t fuckin’ care.” He jabbed a finger my direction. “You should’a left her.”

  I didn’t question further. Everything about the day had been off. Wasn’t like Hammer to keep shit on the down-low, so I figured he had good reason.

  The child’s body slackened, and for the first time in hours, I relaxed, too. When her head rolled back on my arm, I noticed the chain around her neck, too damn heavy for her tiny frame. The thick silver braid looked new, but the heart locket attached was tarnished, and the key hanging next to it, out of place. I thumbed the piece of metal, then rested my head on the back of the seat and closed my eyes.

  We hit the clubhouse and Hammer headed inside, fists clenched, mumbling under his breath. I stayed in the cab, scared shitless I’d wake the kid.

  Didn’t take long for Prez to storm my way, not a hair out of place, or a wrinkle in his clothes, but wearing a scowl known to set even the strongest men back a step. “The fuck you thinking, bringing a kid out here?”

  “Did you know what was going down in that cabin?”

  “What cab—”

  “She was locked in a damn hole.” I cut him off before he could spew any bullshit. I raged, itching for a fight. “The fucker was making movies.”

  Prez tried and failed to hide his disgust, then covered his tracks with, “You goin’ soft, Trailer?”

  Fuck no. I was hard as a mother-fucking tank. Hard enough to take down him and everyone in that damn clubhouse. “I don’t have a fuckin’ clue why you sent us to that cabin. Hammer ain’t talking, but I know he’d been in and outta that place, and I know damn well he knew about that fucker’s extracurricular activities. And that shit don’t sit well with me. She’s a fucking baby, Prez.”

  Prez flinched, seemingly confused, then yanked a hand-rolled out of his pocket. He lit the bud, and drew a deep inhale, eyes aimed over my shoulder, clearly working something out, and apparently not ready to divulge.

  His silence spoke volumes, cementing my resolve.

  “I’ve paid my debt to this club. More than you ever asked of me.”

  His gaze sliced to mine, brows furrowed. “What’re you saying?”

  Before considering their weight, the words left my lips. “I’m out.”

  “Out?” Throwing his head back, he released a maniacal, threat-laced laugh. “There is no out. I own you, kid. Every breath, every blink, every kill. Every piss you take, every load you blow into skanky pussy. They’re mine. Don’t ever forget that. You were nothing but trailer trash, like your old man. Only reason you’re not pushing up daisies is because you do the nasty shit others won’t. Don’t forget what I did for you.”

  I would never forget. Wore the scars like a god damn suit of armor.

  Still, if I backed down, I’d lose respect, and the girl would die. Wasn’t another girl dying because of me. “I’m out. Kill me if you have to, but I’m taking this kid somewhere safe first.”

  The child twitched in my arms, her head jerking back, catching Prez’s attention. A long, hard minute passed. Jaw clenched, he gnawed on his bottom lip. I watched him, watching her, undoubtedly thinking about his nieces, one of whom had been taken by sex traffickers only a year ago. With a head shake, he checked over his shoulder where a few of the brothers were spilling out of the clubhouse. On a deep inhale, he met my glare, then pulled his Sig out of its holster, and aimed straight between my eyes. “Get out of the truck.”

  “Fuck,” I growled, shoved the door open, and hauled the girl out of the cab.

  “The cut.” He gestured to the kid. “It’s mine. Hand it over.”

  Sure as hell wasn’t expecting that order. By some miracle, I unwrapped the girl and tossed my leather vest at his chest without waking her.

  “Down the road, you’ll find a white sedan. It’s hot. Keys are inside. Get the fuck outta my sight and don’t come back unless I call you back.”

  He was letting me go, without losing f
ace. The day had gone from strange to downright insane.

  Without a word, I turned my back on my brothers.

  “And Trailer,” he called. “You’re not out. You’re never out.”

  I didn’t look back. Wouldn’t. But I couldn’t help my grin. The asshole still had a heart.

  And that shattered little girl may have just saved my life.

  #

  “Breathe, baby. C’mon.” I pulled the tiny thing against my chest, rubbing her back, rocking, fighting my own fucking panic attack because I had no god damned clue how to comfort anyone, let alone a traumatized child.

  Purple-faced, she struggled to breathe, silent screams racking her body.

  “Please. I won’t hurt you. I’m not gonna hurt you.” I was so far over my head I feared I’d never see daylight. “The bad man is gone. He won’t touch you again.”

  Her body trembled, but her chest rose and fell against mine. Once. Twice. She managed to suck in oxygen between sobs. Thank fuck.

  I held her close but not tight, her body fragile with bruises. She needed words. Solace. I had none to offer. What did I know about that shit? What the fuck did I know about anything?

  When her tears slowed, and her breaths turned wet and shallow, I forced a string of deep inhale-exhales. Muscles weary, my bones ached, and my head buzzed like I’d survived a three-day bender.

  I held her for an eternity, running my fingers through her long, dirty hair, bile rising in my throat. She smelled like piss and raw earth. How long had that bastard had her? How was she still alive? How had her tiny, breakable body taken that abuse and not shattered?

  When she relaxed in my arms, a soft snore coming from her lips, I shifted, eager to lay her down and get back on the road. Tiny fingers gripped my shirt collar, clinging for dear life.

  “Listen. I know you’re scared. But I have to lay you down. I need to drive. I need you to help me out here, Little One.”

  She only whimpered, burrowing her face in my neck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck me.

  Fuck it.

  I yanked the seatbelt around our joined bodies and pulled back onto the highway. The sky had darkened to black. Nobody would see the multitude of wrongdoings I committed, unless of course I got pulled over. So, like a fuck, I drove the speed limit, maintained a safe distance between passing cars, and sweated rivers for the remaining five hours of my drive.