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  “He loved her so much,” Mal confirmed, her eyes growing hot. She didn’t feel like crying in front of these women, but it seemed it was going to happen anyway. “He was amazing with her. He got up to check on her at night, bring her to me when she was hungry, changed her himself when it was the diaper. He’d taken leave from driving when she was born, just to be around to help.”

  “Oh wow.” Gertie shook her head. “If I hadn’t seen him with Davie I never would have guessed.”

  There was a knock at the door, and Trinny got up to answer. After checking the peep hole she unfastened the motel security latch and admitted Jayce and Harlon.

  On instinct Mal stood.

  “Be ready to leave early tomorrow,” Jayce said, but mostly he was speaking to Trinny.

  “I’ll take you to the house,” Harlon said, and that was meant for her. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

  “Is everything okay?” Mal asked as he took her arm and steered her to the door.

  He didn’t answer her, not that she’d expected it. Instead they left the room with the other women waving farewell. Mal wondered if she’d actually ever see them again.

  -oOo-

  Upon waking, she was too hot. It occurred to her to toss a blanket off, but as she became more alert Mal realized it wasn’t just a blanket and sheet keeping her so warm. There was a heavy arm over her waist, a thick leg shoved between her own, and a hard chest supporting her back.

  Harlon Gray was a cuddle-sleeper, even after all these years.

  It was amazing she had slept. She was mostly used to being alone in bed, but this was familiar. As was the hard length currently pressing against her ass cheek.

  She tried to raise her head to look for a clock. The room was in that milky state of brightness that meant it was cloudy, but at this time of year it could be as late as ten in the morning. But there was no clock. The house was being emptied and alarm clocks were not a necessity, apparently.

  The chest behind her rumbled with a growl, and the erection rubbed against her skin as Harlon woke. She closed her eyes, wondering how in the hell she could get out of here without committing another stupid mistake.

  His hand cupped her breast, and to show her body’s betrayal of common sense she whimpered, her nipple peaking before his thumb ran over it. At that she moaned as Harlon growled again, his breath hot against the side of her face as his lips caressed her ear, teeth nipping at it lightly.

  “Harlon,” she breathed, but he was already moving her, hand leaving her breast to raise her leg upwards and back to him before sliding between her legs to where she’d already grown wet. At her whimper he just groaned again, wetting his fingertips before dragging them over her clit with agonizing intensity.

  His mouth found the side of her neck, kissing, sucking, and biting at her as she fought to keep breathing. One arm had been supporting her head, and without effort he moved it under her side to a spot under her trapped arm, winding around to clamp around her chest, arm resting between her breasts.

  When he wanted her in position, he got her there and held her there. And she’d always loved that. Trapped as she was, all she could do was suffer through the torture of his hand not quite seeing her orgasm through to completion. His erection moved the slightest bit against her, and as she squirmed she made sure he felt it.

  Another growl before she was released suddenly. She caught her breath, not moving, knowing this was how he wanted her, and he knew damn well this was how she wanted to be taken. He moved around then he was on her again, binding her up in massive biceps and his wall of a chest. The arm between her breasts ended with his hand clutching her shoulder tightly, the other hand holding her leg up and latching it around his leg as he drove into her brutally.

  She cried out, remembering they weren’t alone at the last minute. Part of the sound was caught in the pillow. He moved into her over and over, not rough, but each thrust ended with her almost losing him completely. Every shove was delivered wonderfully slow, still filling her completely. She was aware of every inch, every ounce of his desire. She’d always loved that about sex with Harlon. He didn’t hold back on how much he wanted her.

  Her eyes were clenched closed, all she could focus on was the slide of his body in hers. When his hand returned to her clit it was enough to send her over the edge, mouth open as she bit into the pillow next to her face. The sounds were almost pitiful, not violent. It just felt so fucking good.

  He gave another grunt before increasing his pace. As his lust took over he angled himself onto her, nearly pushing her onto her stomach but not quite. Now she was truly at the mercy of him, the relentless movement enough to turn her mind off completely. She was nothing but sensation and pleasure.

  As she cried out into her the bedding for the second time Harlon’s body seized, and his groan was long and low, the kind of sound that same from low in the belly. She had to smile as he grunted and caught his breath. Then his breath hitched and he started coughing.

  He pulled free of her, rolling to sit on the edge of the bed. Mal was content to stay in place, the flutters of her orgasm still teasing at her nerves. But the coughing only seemed to get worse. Alarmed, she sat up, scooting close enough to rub his broad back.

  “Are you okay?”

  He brushed her hand off and stood. “I’m fine,” he wheezed, stooping to pick up his jeans from the floor. As another bout racked his body she sat up, clutching a sheet to her chest.

  “That sounds like a bad cough.”

  “Said I’m fine,” he barked back, doing up his jeans and yanking the bedroom door open. “I don’t need another mother, Mal.” He even left the door standing open as he left the room, his own bedroom right across the hall. The room Knuckles was staying in.

  With a huff she stood with the sheet covering her naked bits, her ankle feeling stiff from the twist the day before. Nowhere near as painful, though. Which was good because she needed the extra leverage to stalk to the door and slam it so she could get dressed again without flashing Harlon’s friend.

  She grabbed her clothes off the floor and yanked them all on a bit violently. Whatever the fuck was wrong with him could just fuck right off with the rest of him. They were leaving that day, he’d told her so. Well, good.

  When she was dressed she left the room the mess they’d made it. By now Knuckles was up, leaving Harlon’s old room in his jeans with a T-shirt in hand. His smile was real but tired.

  “Morning, Mal.”

  “Whatever,” she muttered, heading for the front door.

  “Wait, what’s wrong?”

  She had no answer. All she knew was Tiny Gray was done with her, so she was apparently dismissed.

  “Mal, what happened?”

  She jerked her arm away from Knuckles as the bathroom door opened. Tiny walked out and headed for the kitchen, not giving them another look.

  “Tiny, what the fuck?”

  “Let her go, Knuckles.” It was said from the kitchen.

  She strode to the entry of the kitchen, leaning on the wall. “You are so full of shit, Harlon.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled, opening the cupboard over the coffeemaker, the one small appliance still in place.

  “You come back with all these apologies, then what? When you’re done here that’s it? All you wanted was to say you were sorry?”

  No answer, and that pissed her off more.

  “What the hell does sorry do when you walked away from me and didn’t so much as say a fucking good bye, no explanation? I’m supposed to just roll over and fuck you again?”

  “Well, you did.”

  Her vision ran red. There were almost thirty years’ worth of quips that she wanted to say to his face, but all that came out was the hysterical ramblings of rage she’s swallowed since she was twenty-one. “Thanks for the reminder, you piece of shit. Thanks for making sure I no longer give a shit what happens to you. Because you sure as fuck didn’t care what happened when you walked away from me. You fucked around with a twenty-yea
r-old, and when life got too tragic you fucking bailed. I was the one left behind. Angelina was gone, and it hurt me too. But I’m the one that really got left behind. I needed you more, asshole!”

  “Don’t say her name right now.”

  Mal laughed, pushing at Knuckles’ hand as he tried to take her arm. “Why? Did you just remember how much that fucking hurt, our daughter dying?”

  He slammed the coffee pot down and it smashed, and he stalked to her. His face was as dark as a thundercloud but she didn’t feel any fear. He wouldn’t hurt her physically. No, he was capable of doing better than just old physical violence.

  Knuckles didn’t seem to think so. He tried to step in front of her, hands out. “Tiny, man. Come on.”

  Tiny pushed him to the side like he was nothing, and he went nose-to-nose with her. “I didn’t forget anything,” he snarled. “All I remember is not being at home. Maybe I could have saved her.”

  She shoved at him with both hands, barely moving him. So she was content just to hit him again. “Fuck you. I didn’t kill her.”

  “How could you stay sleeping?”

  “Fuck you!” she was crying now. “This wasn’t my fault. You always blamed me. I knew it!”

  “Christ, you two!” Knuckles roared, stepping into them and pushing her back into the living room. Tiny followed them, and Knuckles spun on him. “Stop saying all this shit! You told me you don’t really blame her. What the hell is this?”

  “Forget it,” she sobbed, wiping at her eyes and shoving her feet into her heels. “Fuck this. Fuck all this. And fuck you, too, Harlon.”

  She yanked the door open so hard it swung in and made a dent in the wall. She didn’t give a shit. She just wanted to get to her truck and get home.

  And they let her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Change of plan today,” the man in the Adidas track suit said as Tiny climbed out of his truck cab.

  “Change of plan?” He frowned. “Why?”

  “No need to worry,” the greasy asshole said with a smile. “Mister Guidinger knows about the change. “But this delivery has to go straight onto a ship. No unloading, so you’re taking this truck.”

  Tiny did a quick glance over the moving truck the guy was pointing to. “I don’t drive trucks I don’t do the maintenance on.”

  “This time you are.” The smarmy grin on this guy’s pockmarked face was gone. “This time you take this truck and drive it where we tell you to. That’s what we pay you for.”

  It looked like a basic moving truck, sure. It would blend on any road, even with a contingent of motorcycles coincidentally riding close by. But changes in plan were never usually a good thing, and Tiny was already growing weary of Anthony fucking Guidinger, and this was just another tick under the con column.

  “I’ll let the guys know,” he grumbled, then turned on his heel and headed to his brothers, who were assembled in a group off to the side on the mainland, waiting next to their bikes.

  “What’s going on?” Jayce asked, reading his expression perfectly.

  “Change in the job. They want me to drive the moving truck into the port and right onto a ship. No unloading.”

  The collective group shuffled their feet, feeling his same trepidation. “No fucking way,” Fritter spat out. “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I,” Tiny agreed.

  Their president held up a hand. “Okay, so this sucks. Agreed. What about your truck?”

  Tiny shrugged. “There’s a guy I’ve hired a few times before, lives in ‘Frisco. I could call him to pick it up. He’s got a key.”

  “I think we need to reexamine our route,” Spaz piped up. “We need to find a quiet spot to...regroup. And plan.”

  Jayce grinned. “Agreed. The truck stop just over city limits. That’s where we break. Tell your pal to meet us there.”

  Tiny nodded, and with a quick handshake everyone went on their way. Well, everyone but Knuckles. The asshole still refused to acknowledge him since they left Cleary. He thought Tiny’d been an asshole to Mal, but that was by design. He had to do it. So while it stung the kid was angry with him he had to keep up the appearance to keep her away.

  But whatever. He had bigger problems.

  He explained to their Redwood City port contact that a friend would pick up the truck for them, which appeased the asshole. He called Mark, the driver from San Francisco, who turned out to be even closer than expected. He agreed to pick up the truck and meet the group at the rest area.

  He did a cursory walk-around the moving van. The lights worked, the tires seemed okay, and the engine sounded fine. Still, his sixth sense was standing straight up at attention.

  After another route check with his honour guard he got settled behind the unfamiliar wheel. He took the time to adjust the seat and mirrors then pulled out of the fenced yard. The mechanics of the truck felt fine, but he was still carefully pushing the engine and brakes. Once he was up to freeway speed he was pretty sure the truck was fine, though. He relaxed in the seat and turned on the radio, leaving it on the country station it’d been left on.

  They reached the rest stop only twenty minutes later. The crew pulled off in the approach, and Tiny did another walk around, deciding the truck was safe.

  “Think we should check the cargo?” Fritter asked, squinting at the back of the hired moving truck. Buck rolled it open, showing a wall of unmarked boxes.

  “Nah. They get all touchy about that,” Jayce replied.

  Tiny sighed. “The truck change was weird. They knew we were coming and when. Did the cargo change? Why wouldn’t they let us know?”

  “It’s bugging me too,” the Prez admitted. “We’ll watch and see what happens.”

  Mark arrived with Tiny’s truck after ten minutes of waiting. After a quick rundown of the plan and some rearranging of personnel, Fritter, Spaz and Rusty peeled off with Mark, just to make sure no one gave him any trouble.

  After a talk one-on-one, Mark assured Tiny he’d be okay on the run all the way back to Markham. Tiny pulled out of the rest stop feeling a hell of a lot better.

  That was until they got about fifteen miles outside of San Francisco. One minute the truck was rolling along fine, the next there was a violent popping sound—not a gunshot because he knew that sound well, but it was close—and he was swerving into the shoulder, out of control. The truck veered hard to the right and he noticed the brake lights on the bike in front of him—he thought it was Buck but he wasn’t entirely sure—and with a curse he yanked the wheel harder and stood on the brake to stop the truck hitting him. When all the squealing tires were over half the truck was down the embankment and the other end was jutting straight out on the shoulder, but not too far into the driving lane at least.

  With a long exhale he put the transmission in neutral and killed the engine, yanking the E-brake hard. He swung the door open and had to jump down to the sandy ditch to see what happened. The driver’s side was fine. He hefted up to the shoulder and checked the other tires. Obviously something blew on the passenger side.

  “You alright?”

  Tiny nodded at Buck’s question. He was approaching from where he’d parked his bike on the edge of the asphalt.

  “What happened?”

  “Blew a tire. Front passenger, I’m thinking.” He circled around the back. Traffic had slowed to move to the far lane, so that was helpful. Around the other side he saw a bike down and his stomach dropped, but then he realized it was being righted so that was promising. He rushed to help just as Jayce got there, too.

  “You okay?”

  Knuckles yanked his helmet off. “Fuck. I’m fine. Just hit the rough asphalt at the edge there. I let the bike go. Fucked up my paint job.”

  “Tire?”

  Knuckles nodded, finally looking at him. “Yeah, big hunk of rubber came right at my head. I swerved to avoid it.”

  “Fuck man, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’re all whole.”

  “Tire’s gone!” So
meone shouted behind them. Buck again, he thought. “I mean, it’s not even just flat. It’s fucking shredded.”

  Tiny squinted down the road. “Any more alligators out there?”

  “What?”

  He grinned at Knuckles. “Strips of tire. Call them alligators.”

  “Oh, cute.” Knuckles’ grin was amused, not sarcastic. ”But no, I think there was just the one. It’s in the ditch.”

  “Good.” That was the last thing he wanted: to cause another accident. “Better call for a tow.”

  His cell was in his back pocket, and just as he was reaching for it there were more loud popping sounds, of the variety he did recognize. Immediately he and Knuckles rushed the ditch, sliding down the embankment and taking cover. Once in place they both reached for their pieces.

  “Well I guess that explains the change in plans,” Knuckles mused as there was a pause in gunfire.

  “Shoot out on a freeway in the middle of the day?” Tiny shook his head. “What the fuck is wrong with these guys? And this is a busy roadway.”

  “Think they’re coming?”

  “Absolutely. They want the cargo, or us, or both.”

  “Then let’s fucking get rid of them.”

  He grinned and followed Knuckles’ lead back in the direction of the truck. Crawling was meant for much younger bodies than his but his adrenalin was high, his heart hammering away as it was from just the blown tire.

  “Buck!” Knuckles shouted. “Jayce!”

  “We’re good. Over here!”

  Far side of the truck. They kept up their wriggling until they were right at the truck front, then circled to where Buck and Jayce were already crouched, next to the front driver’s side wheel well.

  “I count five guys.”

  “Pretty even,” Tiny summed up, drawing another grin from Knuckles.

  “It would be if I’d stayed home,” the crazy fucker bellowed, then he was up and running for the back of the truck.