Chapter One
Streaks of white-hot lightning broke the blackness, ripping the night sky like paper. Seconds later the rumbling thunder came. Another few miles down the highway, the lightning forked close to Paco’s Harley. More booms reverberated overhead, and then the rain fell, slow and spattering at first and then lashing down, torrential, relentless.
Paco slowed down, cursing the semitrucks as they barreled past him, burying him in a blinding wave of water as their tires hit the puddles. He squeezed the water out of his foam grips and debated about pulling over and taking out his rain gear.
A second series of jagged lightning bolts zigzagged across the sky. I gotta get out of this fucking storm. Riding wet on a bike with lightning too close for comfort was just asking for trouble. The rain came down in sheets, obstructing his vision, pelleting his skin like bullets. The brake lights on several of the large trucks in front of him glowed eerily in the mist, and he decided to follow them, hoping they were headed to the nearest truck stop.
Sure enough, the semis took the next exit and turned right with Paco following behind them. Bright lights filtered through the thin mist and a yellow neon sign read “Eagle Truck Stop,” the word “Diner” flashing in blue lettering underneath it. Three of the large trucks turned in and drove to the fuel pumps. After following them in, he veered to the right and parked in front of the eatery. The rain had soaked him, so he opened his saddlebag, took out a change of clothes, and rushed into the diner. Drops of water rolled down his face and neck, his feet squishing with every step he took.
“It sure is coming down,” a woman behind the lunch counter said as her eyes traveled up and down his muscled body. “You need somewhere to dry off?”
“Yeah. Do you have showers here?” he replied.
She pointed to the right. “You gotta go next door for that. They got showers, plus a trucker lounge with TV and video games. No laundry though. The shower will cost you twelve bucks but that includes a towel, washcloth, soap, and a floor mat. Where’re you coming from?” The redhead gave him a smile that said she was available. He’d seen that smile more times than he could count.
“Thanks for the info.” A gust of wind blew past him when he opened the door, and, with head bent, he walked next door.
Thirty minutes later, Paco was back at the diner in a booth by the window, watching the trucks as they moved from the pumps to parking spaces that lined the large lot. The rain was steady now, and he saw several women move between the lanes of parked semis.
“My name’s Holly,” the redhead said as she handed him a menu. “I see you got yourself all dried off. Nice pair of jeans, by the way. When you came back in, I noticed you wear them real good.” She licked her pink-stained lips.
“Get me a cup of black coffee,” he said, looking at the menu.
“You got a name?”
“Yeah. Get me that coffee.”
Holly snorted, then walked away. Several men came in yelling out greetings to her. Paco watched as she laughed and flirted with them, bending over the counter and playfully smacking a couple of them on their arms when they commented on her tits. Shaking his head, he pulled out his phone and shifted his focus to the parking lot. The door to a truck opened and an arm reached out to help hoist a woman with long dark hair inside.
“Hey, dude,” he said to Steel.
“Where the hell are you?” the president answered.
“I got caught in a fucking storm so I pulled into a truck stop. I’m gonna wait it out. If it doesn’t get better, I’ll have to spend the night drinking coffee in the diner. How’s the weather in Alina?”
“Clear. Are you still in Utah?”
“Yeah. I’m close to the Colorado border though.”
“How’s your sister?”
“Great. She had another boy.”
“Here’s your coffee,” Holly said as she put the cup in front of him.
“I gotta go. I may not be back until tomorrow. Later.”
“There’s a motel behind the truck stop in case you stay the night. The beds are real comfy too.” She undid the top two buttons on her uniform.
“Thanks. I may need a room.”
“Holly, bring your sweet ass over here. My buddy Rich wants to ask you a question.”
The waitress turned sideways and laughed. “You just hang on. I got a customer here.” She looked at Paco and winked. “I’m popular with the men around here.”
“I’ll have a burger—medium—fries, and a cup of green chili.”
Her brows knitted. “You’re not very friendly, are you?”
“No, I’m not.” He picked up his cup and took a sip. The coffee tasted stale and harsh, like it’d been sitting out all day. “Give me a fresh cup of coffee and bring me some cream.”
“Don’t you ever say ‘please’ when you want something?”
“No.”
He scrolled through his texts as she walked away. The majority of them were from women he’d hooked up with in the past six months, asking when they could get together.
Shaking his head, he put his phone down on the table. The truth was he didn’t want to see any of them again. He’d had fun for a while, but no one had interested him enough to pursue anything for more than a few weeks. It wasn’t that he was against relationships; it was just that the one woman who’d captured his heart had also shattered it, and he wasn’t looking to have that happen again.
“Here you go,” Holly said, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “And I opened a new carton of creamer just for you.”
“Thanks.” He stirred a splash of cream in the coffee. The earthy scent filled his nostrils as he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. Bitter sweetness snapped at the back of his throat as the hot liquid warmed him.
Glancing outside, he saw three women in short shorts huddled under the eaves of the diner as the rain poured down. A cold rush of wind swirled around him as the front door opened and a woman with too much makeup and too little clothing entered. Head down, she walked over to the booth next to his and slid in. Drops of water trickled down her face and neck, and she grabbed a napkin and wiped them away before running it through her long dark hair.
Then she looked up and locked gazes with him. Her eyes were like an endless stretch of midnight sky. A bundle of sorrow, pain, and loneliness swam in their inky depths along with threads of fierceness and pride. They drew him in. Something down deep, very deep inside him stirred faintly. He sucked in a breath. Damn.
“Here you go, handsome.” Holly put a plate in front of him. “I’ll be right back with your green chili. Can I freshen up your coffee?”
Dragging his eyes away from the woman, he nodded slightly as he pushed his cup toward her. “I need ketchup.”
“You got it,” Holly said, walking away.
He glanced at the woman again. She stared down at her phone while she blew her nose. Bringing the phone to her ear, she looked over her shoulder at a group of men at the lunch counter who were talking with Holly.
“I’m real sick tonight,” she said in a voice loud enough for Paco to hear. “I made about a hundred bucks, but I’m burning up.”
Paco picked up a fry and put it in his mouth. The woman looked like she was about twenty-three or so, and from the way she was dressed and the amount of makeup she had on, he guessed her to be a working woman. The other women still huddled under the eaves were older and looked worn out. Two of them had the signs of meth on their faces: sores, scarring, gaunt.
“Please, Bobby. I promise to work extra hard tomorrow. I just need to sleep. I’m really sick.” Tears trickled down her face, and she grabbed a napkin and wiped her nose.
“Here’s your chili and some fresh coffee.” Instead of putting the bowl of chili down next to his plate, Holly leaned way over and set it on the other side. Her chest brushed against him and she giggled. “Sorry. My boobs are so big that they always get in the way. I noticed your jacket when you walked out earlier to go next door for your shower. Is the Night Rebels a motorcycle club?”
Paco nodded while he squirted ketchup over his burger.
“Is your club one of them one-percenters?”
One of the truckers had swiveled around on his stool and stared at her. “I think one of your customers wants you,” Paco said.
She looked over her shoulder. “Oh. Him. He can wait. It’s not every day that a biker comes in here, especially one as good-looking as you. I love seeing a guy on a big Harley. I mean, you guys must be pretty strong to handle such a powerful motorcycle.”
“Okay. Don’t freak out. I was just asking if I could take tonight off. Forget about it.” The young woman set her phone down, then blew her nose again.
Paco glanced back at Holly. “I’ve got everything I need.”
The waitress narrowed her eyes. “You trying to tell me you wanna be left alone?”
“Yeah.” He picked up his burger and took a big bite. The woman in the booth watched him.
“Whatever.” Holly walked away.
“Can I have a cup of chicken noodle soup?” the woman asked the waitress.
Holly stopped at her table. “You got any money?”
She shook her head. “Put it on my tab.”
“Carl told me not to serve you anything until your tab’s paid up.”
“Didn’t Bobby pay it?” she asked in a small voice.
“Nope. And since you don’t have any money and can’t order anything, you gotta get outta here. You’re taking a booth away from paying customers.”
The woman glanced around. “There’s hardly anyone here. I don’t feel so good right now. Can I have a glass of water?”
Holly shook her head. “Carl doesn’t want your kind taking up space unless you’re gonna pay. You need to move on.”
Paco watched as the woman’s chin trembled, her lashes blinked, and her hand clutched at her throat. “Put whatever she wants on my tab,” he said.
Holly spun around, her mouth gaping, her brown eyes flashing. “What?”
The woman cleared her throat. “I don’t want any charity,” she said as pride shone in her eyes.
A smile twitched on his lips. “I’m not giving any.”
Holly came over to him. “Are you sure about this? She’s a lot lizard.”
Anger burned inside him as the waitress smiled smugly. “I don’t like repeating myself. Put her order on my tab.” He turned away and pulled the bowl of chili closer to him.
Mumbling something incomprehensible under her breath, she stormed away. “Remember the bowl of chicken soup, and bring me a cup of tea, please,” the woman said as Holly passed her table.
“Unbelievable,” Holly said, looking behind her shoulder at Paco.
When she’d gone to the kitchen, the woman stared at him. He kept eating, acting like he didn’t know she was watching him, but he was acutely aware of her. A woman had never had such an effect on him after only a few minutes. Even when he’d met Cassie, he hadn’t been immediately drawn to her.
What the hell’s going on? I must be tired or something.
Holly slammed the soup and tea down and rushed away. The woman grabbed several crackers, and the crinkling sound as she opened them made him smile. He looked at her.
“Thanks for this,” she said. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow. I promise.”
“You don’t have to. You sound like you’re sick.”
“I am. I feel like shit. I’m sure once I finish the soup and tea, I’ll feel a lot better.” Steam rose from the bowl. She looked up. “I’ve never seen you around here before. You new to the road?” With the spoon near her mouth, she blew.
“I’m not sure I know what you’re asking.”
“I mean are you new to long-haul driving?”
“I’m not a trucker. I’m just passing through. I got caught up in the storm.”
Holly came back over. She darted her eyes from him to the woman, then back to him. “I thought you weren’t the friendly type,” she said as she picked up his empty bowl.
Ignoring her, he said, “Give me a piece of apple pie and warm it up.”
“Fucking unbelievable,” she muttered as she walked away.
The woman’s phone rang and she grimaced. Slowly she picked it up. “I’m having some hot tea before I go back out there.” A long pause. “I know. I understand. I’ll have the money.” She placed the phone on the table, then wrapped her hands around her cup.
From where he sat, Paco saw tracks of fear streak her face. Something about the way she sat, her eyes watering and her hands clinging around the mug, hit a chord inside him. She’s scared to death. I bet this Bobby fuck is her pimp. Sensing she was in trouble, he wanted to help her. I should just pay my bill and forget about her. But he couldn’t. There was something about her that grounded him. He didn’t know what it was, but he wanted to make sure she was okay.
“Here’s your piece of pie. Did you decide to stay at the motel? The rain’s still coming down pretty good.” Holly leaned in closer.
He glanced out the window. “Yeah, it’s still raining. You can bring the bill.” He jerked his head toward the small woman in the booth. “Make sure she doesn’t want anything more.”
When Holly went up to her table, he saw the woman shake her head and then take out a mirror from her purse. She wiped her face and took out what looked like lipstick and a pencil.
The waitress walked over to his table. “Here you go. You pay up front. I wrote my number on the back, just in case you want some company tonight.” Holly smiled widely.
“Don’t want any.” He stood up and shrugged his jacket on. Picking up the bill, he glanced at her taut face. “The pie was good.” She glared at him, and he gestured her to walk in front of him.
When he went by the woman’s table, he jerked his head at her.
“Thanks for the soup and tea,” she said, her mesmerizing eyes stopping him.
“You’re welcome. You got somewhere to stay?”
Nodding slowly, she chewed on her lower lip.
“I overheard your conversation on the phone. You really gonna haul your ass outside in this freezing rain?”
Sinking down in the faux-leather seat, she broke eye contact. “I don’t have a choice,” she whispered.
“Are you gonna pay your bill?” Irritation laced Holly’s voice.
Ignoring her, he stood silent by the woman’s table. She looked up at him. “What? We all gotta do junk we don’t want to sometimes.” She resumed chewing the corner of her bottom lip.
“I’m getting a room at the motel for the night. Come stay with me.”
Her eyes widened. “I need to bring in some money tonight, but thanks.”
“I’ll take care of that. You’re all stuffed up, and you look like you’re miserable.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s your call.”
She watched him for a few seconds, suspicion shining in her eyes. And then she ran her gaze over him, slow and unabashedly. The ringing phone broke in on her assessment of him, and she groaned when she looked down at the screen.
“What do you want now?” She brought her slender fingers to the base of her throat. “Who told you I was still in the diner? You got people spying on me? Really, Bobby? Anyway, I’m just getting ready to go back out.”
Paco saw her face tighten and her fist clench. I should take off. Why the fuck am I getting in the middle of this shit she has going on? The truth was he wanted to help her. She seemed as if she’d stumbled into a world in which she didn’t belong. It was like she lost her way, and for reasons he couldn’t articulate or even understand, there was something about her that touched him.
She placed the phone inside her skimpy short jacket. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?”
He chuckled. “No. Are you?”
Shaking her head, she laughed, and it was sweet and soft and sparkling like dew on green grass in the spring. Scooting toward him, she grabbed her purse and stood up.
Without saying anything, he walked over to the cashier and paid the bill. Holly reclined against the wall, watching him intently. Several men at the counter stared at the young woman who stayed close to him. He told the cashier to give Holly her tip, and then he walked outside into the freezing rain, the woman following.
He opened one of the saddlebags and took out his waterproof motorcycle jacket. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Put it on. It’ll keep you dry.” She slipped it on and jumped on behind him. The roar of his Harley competed with the howling wind, and as he rode away, he caught a glimpse of Holly standing by the window, her face pinched.
Roady’s Motel looked like hundreds of others off interstate highways strewn across the country. It had two sets of external metal stairs leading to the second floor. It wasn’t a total dump from the outside, but it looked like the type of place that travel-weary people stayed alongside drug dealers, pimps, and prostitutes.
Fitting the key into the doorknob, Paco turned it, opened the door, and switched on the overhead light. The room had one large bed, two chairs, and a small table. A TV sat on top of a scratched-up long dresser. He closed the door behind him and looked sideways at the woman, who stood quietly by the bed.
“What’s your name?” he asked as he dropped a small satchel on the table.
She jumped. “Misty. What’s yours?”
“Paco. You need to use the bathroom?” She shook her head. “I’m gonna get out of these wet clothes.” Before he closed the bathroom door, he looked behind him. “And don’t think of stealing any of my shit. I’m not gonna be happy if I have to track you down in the rain.” Without waiting for her to answer, he closed the door.
Twenty minutes later, he came out with a towel wrapped around his waist, his wet clothes in hand. Going over to the closet, he saw that Misty hadn’t moved an inch since he’d gone into the bathroom. “Have a seat. You want something hot to drink?”
“I’m good,” she said, going over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it. “I’m not feeling so good.”
“Don’t mind me. Go to sleep if you want.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her watching him, her gaze focused on his bare chest as he hung up his clothes. He turned toward her. “Like what you see?”
Quickly, she averted her gaze and stood up. “I’m going to take a warm shower. I’ll be done soon.” She scurried out of the room.
Grabbing the remote control, he went over to the satchel on the table and took out a bottle of whiskey. Spotting four glasses next to the television set, he nabbed one and poured a generous amount of booze into it. He propped a pillow behind his back and leaned against it, switched on the TV, and then took a deep drink. The whiskey tasted smoky and sharp, and it burned its way down his throat into his belly. Fuck that’s good. He poured a bit more into the glass.
Misty came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her small frame. Her hair was damp and smelled like almond and cherries, and he was glad he’d left the complimentary bottle of shampoo for her. Her hair looked darker than it had in the diner. It was long, shiny, and almost black. Her skin was smooth, and he figured she wasn’t a meth user like a lot of the women he’d seen sniffing around the trucks earlier when at the diner. Her complexion was clear, her lips heart-shaped, her brows perfectly formed, and her dark lashes framed the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen. The tattoo of a crown with the initials “EZR” underneath was interesting, and he wanted to see what other tats she had on her body, underneath the towel.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she walked over to the bed.
Fuck yeah, sweetheart. “You feel better?”
“Yes.” She began to take off her towel.
He stood up, went over to his case, and took out a T-shirt. “Put this on,” he said, handing it to her.
Confusion crossed her face. “Why? Don’t you want me naked when you fuck me?”
“I’m not gonna fuck you. Why don’t you try and get some rest?”
“Wait. I thought you wanted me to stay with you so I could earn my quota. I’m not in the habit of giving freebies. If you’re not going to pay me, then I need to get back to the truck stop.” Her voice quivered slightly.
“Don’t get so fucking bent out of shape. I said I’d pay you. I just don’t wanna fuck you. You’re sick and you need to sleep. I’m just helping you out.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she thumped her foot on the carpet. “You pity me?”
“I didn’t say that.” He sat back on the edge of the bed and took another long drink.
“You don’t find me attractive? I’ll have you know I have no problem getting plenty of men who want sex.”
Quirking his lips, he eased his eyes up and down her body. “I don’t doubt that. And I think you’re damn attractive, but I don’t pay to fuck, sweetheart. I’m offering you a warm room, a good night’s sleep, and no worries about hustling your ass with a lot of old men with beer guts who probably haven’t showered in a while.” He switched the channel on the TV.
She stood there for several minutes, holding the T-shirt, staring at him. He kept watching the screen, keenly aware of her presence, the scent of cherry blossom roping around him. Fuck, she smells good. He adjusted his boxers, trying to ease some of the ache in his groin. I could bang her and relieve some stress.
For the past three weeks, he’d been at his sister’s in Richfield, Utah, helping her out while she gave birth to a third boy. His brother-in-law was in Afghanistan, and when Kendra called and asked him to be with her when her baby was born, he didn’t hesitate; he jumped on his Harley and made a beeline for Richfield. Kendra was the only family he had. He’d always looked after her, especially after their father murdered their mother.
Images of blood-smeared walls pushed through his mind, and he closed his eyes tightly as if to squeeze the memory out of his brain.
The bed moving brought him out of the past, and he looked sideways and saw Misty slip between the covers. A low chuckle escaped from her lips. “I’ve never been in bed with a guy without fucking him.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want her, it was just that he didn’t want it like that.
What the hell’s up with me?
“Get some sleep. You’ll feel better.”
The guys at the club would never believe that he was next to a pretty woman who was naked under his T-shirt, willing to fuck, and he didn’t go for it. Hell, I don’t believe I’m just sitting here, drinking whiskey and staring at the TV instead of fucking her good.
Turning toward her, he saw her body move up and down with each breath she took, and he could feel the warmth radiating from her. Shit.
Her breathing became deeper, and he knew she’d fallen asleep. He watched her for a long while, finished the whiskey, and then switched off the lights.
* * *
Sunlight filtered through the tears in the worn curtains, illuminating the shadowy corners of the room. Paco glanced over at Misty, watching the way the rays danced over her body before finally resting softly on her skin. In the morning light, her hair was as black and glossy as a puddle of spilled ink, her slightly parted lips pink like strawberry ice cream. Without thinking, he reached out and stroked her cheek, and her eyes flew open as she jerked backward.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, getting up from the bed. His head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as he went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. When he came back into the room, her back was against the headboard, her knees drawn up close to her chest. “It stopped raining.” He looked out at the parking lot and saw several large trucks heading to the highway.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“By the four corners in Colorado. Have you ever been there?” He kept his back to her, watching the convoy of semis leaving the truck stop across the street.
“Yeah, but I didn’t see much.”
“Where’re you from?” There was no answer. He turned around and looked at her. She smiled weakly, pulled at the sheet, and shrugged. “You don’t know where you’re from?”
“I gotta get going. I didn’t mean to spend the night.” She threw off the sheet and, as if on cue, her phone rang. Fear etched her face as she stared at her phone on the nightstand. “I better answer this,” she mumbled as she grabbed the phone and headed to the bathroom.
Paco stuffed his dry clothes into his satchel, then slipped his boots on. Glancing at his watch, he figured he’d make it back to Alina in a little over two hours.
“You going?” Misty asked.
He whirled around and saw her propped against the wall, arms hugging her small frame. “Yeah. I paid for the room, so you got a few more hours until checkout. How’re you feeling?”
“Better. Thanks.” She fidgeted in placed. “Uh… didn’t you say you were gonna pay me?” He opened his wallet and counted out five hundred dollars, then tossed the money on the bed. With wide eyes, she shook her head. “That’s too much. He’s gonna know something’s up.”
“How much is normal for you?”
“A really good night, I can bring in five hundred bucks, but last night was raining, so about two hundred fifty. I already have a hundred, so one fifty’s good.”
Surprised at her honesty, he held her gaze. “Take the rest for tonight. You can spend another night here. You still sound sick.”
“I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I can take care of myself.” She picked up the money, took what she needed, and threw the rest back on the blanket along with his T-shirt.
“Go ahead and keep the shirt.”
“I can’t.”
He shrugged and picked up the T-shirt and money except for two fifties. “You can pay your tab and have something just in case you don’t feel good tonight.”
Slowly she stretched out her arm and snatched the two bills. “You must be rich. What do you do?”
“I own a surplus store.” He picked up his leather jacket.
“What’s that?”
“I sell military surplus clothing and gear. I also have a large biker section for leather cuts, jackets, boots, and other things.”
“I never heard of a surplus store. Do you sell camouflage shorts and T-shirts for women?”
“No shorts, some tees.”
“Where’s your store at?”
“Alina. I gotta get going.” He bent over and picked up his satchel. A soft hand touched the top of his; he looked down and then at her.
“Thanks for everything. I mean it. I don’t meet people who don’t want something from me.” She leaned over and brushed her lips across his cheek.
Straightening up, he ran his fingers through her soft hair. “Take care.” He opened the door and left the room. As he walked to his Harley, he felt her eyes on him, but he didn’t look back. He had no reason to take one last look at her before he left. She wasn’t anything to him, just a girl who’d felt like shit and needed the night off. When he was hitchhiking around the country—after his return from Afghanistan—he’d depended on the kindness of strangers when he was broke. He’d now paid it forward by helping a stranger in need.
Swinging his leg over the seat, he switched on the engine and drove away, fighting the urge to see her one last time. Blending into traffic, he welcomed the rush of the cool air as he soared down the highway. As far as Paco was concerned, he couldn’t get back to the clubhouse fast enough.