Kade

I was about as uncomfortable as I could be after having my hands and lips on Harlow. I was not used to wanting a woman this much. Not only did I want to fucking rip every stitch of clothing off her, but I also wanted just as much to help her fulfill this job of hers.

I was usually on a single track with women. They were a release, a little fun, comfort even, and then they were out the door. Thank you very much.

But Harlow had me hooked on everything from her curls to what was happening behind her eyes. What made her so focused on the animals? What had turned her into this fierce little warrior for the orphaned mutts in this truck?

I had a lot of questions that I wanted to be answered, not the least of which was how she was going to feel lying next to me. I fucking couldn’t believe my own train of thought.

And there was no question that we’d opened the floodgates on that department. I’d kept my hands off her, let her lead, let her show me how far she wanted to go. I knew what I wanted but something about Harlow and the shit that happened over the last day made it very clear I needed her to feel okay with the moves I made. She seemed like a woman who needed a safe harbor. I wasn’t safe, by any stretch, but for her, I was doing my damnedest.

And then she did it. She fucking crawled over and kissed me. I wasn’t going to forget that kiss, maybe ever.

I watched her drive. She was intense in everything she did and driving was no exception.

“So, can I ask you a question?” she said, keeping her eyes on the road.

“Ask away.”

“I was a half a second from ripping your clothes off a minute ago.”

“Yeah, I remember it well.” I tried not to smile, she was so fucking cute.

“So, I don’t know anything about you! That’s probably not too bright on my part.”

“Gonna do a background check?”

“No, just – are you from Port Az? Do you like hash browns? Do you have a middle name? Minor stuff.”

“Ah, okay, yes, yes, and yes.”

“Great. Now I know everything a responsible chick should.”

“Not only am I from Port Az, I’m from Port Az going way back. My people founded the town on both sides, Texas Rangers on one, and Comanche on the other.”

“You know all that, about your ancestors, I mean?”

“Yeah, it’s in the local library. So I’m not just passing through there if that means anything. And my middle name, Iron Jacket.”

“Apt and Comanche I’m guessing. So how did a Texas Ranger wind up with a Comanche?”

“You want a little family history lesson, eh?”

“Well, you said it’s in the history books. We have an hour of open road.”

“True, if you really want to hear it.”

“I want to know about you. Whatever you want to tell me” she said it in a sweet way. Harlow wasn’t nosy, she was just curious about who I was. I wanted her to trust me and if this was how, so be it. I realized that a lot of people in Port Az knew my pedigree, but she was a stranger. If I gave her this, maybe she’d trust me, maybe she’d let me in and I’d learn what made Harlow tick as well.

“Well, my many times great grandma was named Tahalina Rogers. She was the daughter of the Comanche Chief in the Port Az area. The Comanche and the early Texas settlers had bad blood and war. But eventually they figured out how to live side by side, if not together, in a lot of Texas towns.”

“There’s a reason Texans think you’re still a country unto yourselves, I think.”

“You think right. So the Texas Rangers were the main law, ‘cause we were so big, the US government couldn’t police all this territory, so Rangers did. My, like, five times grandfather was sent to Port Az to do just that.”

“That’s badass, a Texas Ranger. Did he ride a horse?”

“Shit yeah, some of them still do. Digby Davis sure did. It was bad times for The Rangers though back then. A bunch of them were fired and the ones left were ordered to move the Comanche and the Cherokee out of Texas and onto a reservation in Oklahoma.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, there was no love between Comanche and Texans back then.”

“Yeah? I haven’t met many Texans who have a ton of love for the government though.”

“Smart girl. Yep. My ancestor, Ranger Davis, decided he wasn’t going to do that government bullshit, so you’re right on. Legend, and the history books say he helped a lot of the Comanche stay in Port Az.”

“Is that how you’re part Comanche?”

“Yeah, it was nearly two-hundred years ago but the old dog Digby Davis couldn’t say no to Talahina. The family stories and one picture proves what they say. She had raven hair and sparkling eyes.”

“Sounds like you, Kade. So she stayed in Port Az with Ranger Davis, happily ever after?”

“I guess so. Not much written about them after Digby Davis defied the Feds. He went underground with my Comanche side. That’s what the family stories say. The official records just end.”

“I have no idea what my great great great anything did.”

“I’d say they were Irish woodland ferries.”

She laughed at that. It was true though. If I pictured Tinkerbell but with cinnamon spice thrown in, that would be Harlow.

Harlow kept driving and I told some of my old Comanche stories. They were pretty cool and passed the time. I hoped it helped her trust me. She asked a question or two, and I answered.

“I read what I could about my ancestors. I also listened to the stories of my mother’s people, over and over again. They’re the bedtime stories I fell asleep to… I better stop. You’ve got to be alert on the road!”

“No, I’m amazed. Fascinated, actually.”

Harlow wanted to know about me, and the old Port Az stories were a part of me. But it wasn’t The Dark Saints story. She hadn’t asked that. And I wasn’t offering it. I sensed that part of my actual recent past might be too much for this open-hearted saver of furry creatures. The violence in my heart, the temper I’d paid for behind bars. That was my past too. I hid that part of me from her.

“My family has been in the same town for decades, not that fascinating. We just got our first sports bar, how exciting can we be? You’re new to Port Az, I’m assuming. I am pretty sure I would have noticed you before this.”

I downplayed The Dark Saints connection to Port Az and what part I really played.

“Yeah, Rudy’s mission lured me in. I have been here less than six months, and most of that has been on the road, away from Port Az and into other towns.”

“Port Az is growing. I’m kicking myself I didn’t notice you the day you rolled in.”

“You probably were very busy with your Comanche Ranger Biker business. I won’t take it personally.”

“Well, I’ve noticed you now.”

She blushed at that and it made me smile. I wanted Harlow to know exactly my intentions with her. I was going to get these fucking guns over the border and out of this truck. I was going to be sure she was out of the line of fire that this little smuggling operation had put her in. I was going to have to lie.

I was glad she didn’t push too far. The stories of my Comanche roots fascinated me and most who heard of it. But they also provided a distraction. Guns, money, and bad blood weren’t ancient history; we were rolling on that territory right now. And Harlow had no idea. She’d asked questions, just not the ones that would reveal why she was in the crosshairs of the Hawks and the Saints.

We’d talked for most of the last leg of this trip. And it had gone so fast, the lights of San Nonnus were ahead. And so was our exit.

I looked behind us: there was no sign of Hawks, or cops, or any type of trouble. If we could get this truck empty of dogs, there’d be no reason for Harlow to go back and look to see what she was really hauling.