Sucking in a soul-cleansing breath, I winked at Charlie.
Judging by the pinch of his brows, he wasn’t too happy to see me wielding his cooking utensils. I held the knives, tips up, and shrugged my shoulders. “I’ll buy you new knives.”
He only shook his head and chuckled.
Tucker coughed behind me. When I turned, he was on his ass, Slade kneeling beside him, asking, “You okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”
Shameful, really, but the sight of Tucker, bloody and bruised, made me weak in the knees. When he looked up at me and smiled, teeth full of crimson, something in my chest cracked.
“I’m good. Nothing some ice won’t fix.” He pushed to his feet with a grunt.
Wide-eyed, Slade looked at me. “What the hell was that?” She gestured to the blades still in my hands. “Jesus, Aida. You’re pregnant. You can’t do shit like that anymore.”
I tightened my grip and enjoyed my weapons for one more second before dropping them to the ground.
Slade retrieved them and stood face to face with me. I’d expected to see disappointment in her eyes. What I found could only be described as awe.
“Someday, I want to hear how you learned to do that,” she whispered, before turning to Tucker. “You okay to drive?”
He spit and nodded yes.
“Good. The cops are on their way. Aida can’t be here. Take her home. She can ice your face.” She winked at me and threw an arm over my shoulder. “I think we’re going to be best friends.”
“I think this friendship thing is going to be fun.” Aida laughed, dabbing antibacterial goo on my lip with a cotton swab.
I’d never seen her so animated. It was inspiring, in a perverted way, listening to her babble about dicing onions and slicing skinheads, like they were normal, everyday tasks.
“Think I’ll need stitches?” I managed to mumble through my swollen lip.
I was seated on her bathroom toilet. Aida scooted between my knees, cupped my jaw and tilted my head up, inspecting the wound below my eye. “It’s iffy. If you don’t mind a kick-ass scar on your pretty mug, I’d say, no, it’s not necessary.”
Still holding my face, she studied my mouth. “It’ll scar either way, but your call. It’s clean. I’ve got skin adhesive we could use.”
It was hard to focus with her breasts in my face. I dug my nails into my thighs to keep from wrapping my arms around her hips and pulling her closer.
“Do what you gotta do, Doc,” I mumbled.
She stared down at me with those enormous brown eyes, and swear to Christ, she wanted to kiss me. I wanted her to kiss me. I wanted to taste those lips she’d been licking and biting for the past fifteen minutes.
A lip-lock was out of the question in my current physical condition, so instead I asked, “Do I want to know why you have skin adhesive at your disposal?”
To which she replied, “No.”
“You’re good at this.”
“What?” she asked, eyes squinty, focused on my face.
“Taking care of wounds. You’ve done this a lot?”
“More times than I care to count.”
“Because you dated fighters?”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Because I’m the daughter of a gangster. There,” she said, stepping back to inspect her work, “good as new. Now, let’s get some ice on that lip, shall we?”
I avoided the mirror as I exited the bathroom. Judging by the throbbing pain and blurred vision, I wouldn’t have liked my reflection.
“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the couch.
I eased my ass into the cushion, sinking deep. Damn, her sofa was much softer than mine.
Aida tossed me a bag of crushed ice. “I need to change. Be right back.”
I watched her sway down the hall with that gorgeous, confident swing of her hips. I listened to her pull open a drawer, then slam it shut. I closed my eyes and imagined her pulling the shirt over her head, wiggling out of her leggings, exposing that heart-shaped ass. My fingers curled at the memory of holding that plump flesh.
The front door flew open with a loud crack. I sprang to my feet, poised to kill.
“Aida!” Tango shouted, searching the room. “Where is she?” He stormed past me and headed straight for the bedroom.
Oh, fuck no.
I caught him before he entered her room. “She’s changing. Give her a minute.”
Tango shrugged me off, and damn if I didn’t see red.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he hollered into her half-open door.
I shoved past and stood in the threshold, blocking his view. Not a chance in hell he was laying eyes on her naked body. “I said, she’s changing.”
“It’s all right, Tucker. Nothing he hasn’t seen before.” Aida patted my back in a there, there gesture.
Tango’s chest rose and fell in angry thrusts. He glared over my shoulder into her room.
I knew they had history. Slade had told me they’d dated briefly when Tango had lived in New York. Still didn’t make his behavior acceptable.
Grabbing his shirt collar, and putting my full body weight into the action, I forced Tango backward and clear of her door.
“Jesus, Tuck!” Aida yelled. “I’m dressed. I’m dressed.” She shoved past me. “Down, boy. Down.”
Tango shoved my hands away, never taking his eyes off Aida. “If anything happens to you, Princess, it’s not only me on the hook, it’s my family, and that’s fucking unacceptable. While you’re here, you don’t touch a fucking knife. You don’t go looking for trouble. You see trouble, you run the opposite direction. You put yourself or that baby of yours in danger again, it’s lockdown. Got me?”
“Yeah, pretty boy. I hear you.” Aida mumbled cuss words and stormed down the hall.
Tango roughed a hand through his dark hair and released a long breath, finally meeting me eye to eye. “These racist fucks gonna be a problem?”
“I had an altercation with one in the parking lot the other day. Made it clear he wasn’t welcome at The Stop. Guess he didn’t like that. Probably thought if he brought his brothers he could teach me a lesson. It was nothing more than a pissing contest.”
Arms crossed, Tango leaned against the wall. “I thought that Aryan organization moved out of the area years ago.”
“Looks like they’re back.”
“What’s with you going all bulldog over Aida?” he asked, the frustration in his eyes morphing into an expression of mirth. “Something you need to tell me?”
“Don’t like seeing ladies disrespected, T. That’s all.”
“Right,” he chuckled, rubbing his chin. “Well, good luck with that. You’re in for one hell of a ride.” He cupped my shoulder and headed into the living room.
When I caught up, he and Aida were standing toe to toe, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Damn, I had to respect the way she stood up to him.
“You don’t go anywhere alone. Not even down the hill to The Stop. You need anything, need to get somewhere, call me. Oh,” he said, pulling an envelope out of his suit jacket. “Tito sent your new ID, social security card, insurance papers, everything you need.”
“So, he’s okay?” Aida practically cried.
“Appears so.” Tango bared a small grin. “Also, you’ve got an appointment with an OB/GYN tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at noon.” He looked over his shoulder at me, evil intent blazing in the crinkle of his eyes. “Unless you want Tuck to escort you.”
Fucker.
Her gaze jetted from Tango to me, then dropped to the floor. “No, it’s fine, you—”
“I’ll take her,” I blurted. Not sure where that came from, but the idea of Tango sitting in the waiting room with Aida filled me with rage I didn’t understand, but welcomed nonetheless.
Aida pulled her new ID out of the envelope and quirked a brow. “Aida Suarez. Suarez is such a common name,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Couldn’t you have come up with something better?”
Clearly a dig. The girl wanted to fight.
Tango didn’t take the bait.
“Wasn’t my call. Got a complaint, take it up with your father. And don’t knock it. Suarez was my mother’s maiden name.”
I watched as something shifted in her gaze. With a quick glance my way, her shoulders relaxed, and her hands moved to her stomach in a delicate rub. My chest ached at that beautiful, unconscious gesture.
“Thanks, Tango. I’ll try to stay out of trouble.” She landed a kiss on his cheek and headed back toward her room.
Tango scrubbed his hands over his face. “She doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble. I’ll hire a few men to keep an eye on The Truck Stop. Those idiots will be back after they lick their wounds. Probably bring an army next time.” He turned to leave, stopped with his hand on the knob, and laughed. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you take them out? Looks like they beat the shit out of you.”
“It was three against one.”
He turned, stepping close, and lowered his voice. “It was three against you.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
His charming smile made my blood boil. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I’m honored to be in your presence, and I’m not too proud to admit that you’re better equipped to protect Aida than I am.”
I planted my hands on my hips and released a few of my own profanities. Of course, he had looked into my past. I couldn’t be mad at him. I had done the same the minute I’d discovered he was Rocky’s father. “Who found it? Tito?”
Tango clapped my shoulder. “There’s nothing Tito Moretti can’t hack. Not even the Department of Defense.”
THE WAITING ROOM SHRUNK around me while the fish tank that divided the play area from the private seating seemed to expand. Aida had been with the doctor for over an hour. I watched a blue and yellow fish float through the water while Dory’s voice from Finding Nemo played on repeat in my head: Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Rocky and I had watched that movie so many times, I could recite the entire script by heart.
A tall drink of water poked her head through the frosted glass door that led to the exam rooms. “Mr. Slade?”
I jumped to my feet. “Yeah. That’s me.”
Her warm smile and soft voice matched the decor of the office with its muted colors and tranquil music. “Aida would like you to join her.”
My ticker dropped to my toes. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She shot a glance down the hall, then back to me. “She’s just a little overwhelmed.” The woman opened the door wider, gesturing for me to follow with a nod of her head. “It happens.”
Something in my gut shifted, like I’d eaten a bad burrito, or too many burritos. I heard sobs coming from the far end of the hall, and my legs grew heavier with each step. Before opening the door, the nurse laid a hand on my arm. “Take your time.”
Aida sat on the exam table, fully dressed, holding a small piece of paper to her chest. A box of tissues sat next to her, along with a crumpled paper gown. Tears flowed like a river, carving black trails of makeup down her face.
When she noticed me, her sobs grew louder.
“Aida,” I said, inching closer. “Everything okay with the baby?”
With a loud sniff, she handed me the photo. “She’s a perfect baby girl. Oh my God, she’s real and moving and has feet and fingers, and I’m going to be a mom. Oh shit.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “What was I thinking? I can’t do this. I’m not built for this.”
I caged Aida between my arms and pulled her head to my chest. I had no comforting words to offer, but I had strength, and I held her through the tremors, binding her together as she fell apart.
Curling her fingers into my shirt, she gripped tight and cried. My heart shattered hearing her pain. With each violent tremble, she exposed her fear, bared her vulnerability. Trusted me to carry her load.
In her moment of despair, of shedding her wall, she unwittingly chipped a crack in my armor, too, revealing a sliver of the man I used to be. The part of me I had buried after the accident.
Aida was stuck with a baby she never wanted.
I mourned the children I could never have.
The little green monster was a nasty bitch, sneaking up on me, sinking her gnarly claws deep.
Fucked up as it was, Aida’s meltdown angered me. The spoiled girl had everything I’d always wanted. Yet, there I stood comforting her. For what? Because her cush life had been disrupted? Because she would grow out of her designer clothes for nine months? Or maybe because her champagne and caviar nightclub lifestyle had to be put on hold. Fucking spoiled brat.
Despite my shameful jealousy, I held Aida. Gave her what she needed. Minutes passed, maybe five, before she drew a deep, ragged breath and let go of my shirt. I helped her off the table, grabbed her hand, and led her through the back exit.
I tucked her into the Jeep and headed toward her temporary home.
Unspoken words thickened the air between us. I rolled down the windows, hoping the rush of cool air would soothe my unjustified agitation.
“Thank you.” Her voice, scratchy and raw, filled the small space.
I rubbed the pain in my temple. “For what?”
“For being my friend,” was her simple reply.
And that’s all I would ever be. To her, to any woman. Friend. Fuck buddy.
Husband and father? Not in the cards for me. I’d accepted that truth years ago. Thought I’d been okay with it. Until that moment.
Damn her for putting that chink in my armor.
I didn’t want to be mad at her. I didn’t want to envy her ability to create life. But to watch her dissolve the way she had, over seeing her child for the first time, it downright pissed me off. That was supposed to be a joyous moment. A celebration. Not a nuclear meltdown. I was angry not only for me, but for the innocent life growing inside Aida, for the child who deserved to be celebrated.
“Tucker. What’s wrong?”
“Not a damn thing, Princess.”
“Bullshit. You just called me Princess. You’ve never called me Princess.”
“Okay. Truth?” I pulled to the side of the road and slammed the Jeep into park. My cheeks burned, fingers trembled. “I’m so fucking pissed at you right now I can’t see straight. You have this miracle growing inside you. A fucking miracle. And all I’ve ever heard you do is pout about it.”
“Pout about it?” she shouted, doe eyes narrowing to dark pinpricks of death. “Is that what you thought I was doing?”
“That is exactly what you were doing. I can’t do this. I wasn’t built for this. I’m scared. You’re a fucking spoiled rich kid whose perfect life has been disrupted. And it pisses me off because you don’t realize what a blessing this baby is.”
Aida turned in her seat, brows pinched, holy fire darkening her cheeks.
I already regretted my outburst.
“Let’s get one thing straight, you self-righteous, judgmental fuck. For the first time in my life, I love somebody more than myself. I love this baby. I would die to protect this baby. And if you were any kind of a friend, you would see that I’m a fish out of fucking water.”
She leaned closer. “I didn’t have a mother. I was raised by a criminal. Was I spoiled? Yes. Material things were all my father had to offer. He doesn’t know how to love. He knows how to survive. He knows how to kill. His idea of bonding was sharing his obsession with carving human flesh. I learned how to throw a knife when I was six. You think I was raised wearing tutus and tiaras? Try hooker heels and knife straps. I love this baby. That’s why I’m terrified. She deserves a better life than I can offer, but I love her too much to ever let her go.”
Aida’s vehemence hit me with brute force, each word pounding iron fists at my wall.
She didn’t wait for me to respond. “I didn’t choose this life. My baby didn’t choose the life. We’re stuck in it, and I’m terrified of losing her to this hell I’m living.”
What a jackass. My fingers tightened aro
und the steering wheel. I banged my head against the headrest. “Fuck, Aida. I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t sorry for vomiting my emotions all over Tucker. Purging felt good. I would’ve continued, but when he said he was sorry, there was no doubt he meant it. I’d heard thousands of sorries in my life. Spurted even more. It was easy to tell the difference between a genuine, heartfelt expression of regret and blurted words meant only to appease.
My stomach growled, echoing in the cabin of the vehicle, breaking the thick tension. I rubbed my baby bump and sucked in a deep, calming breath before saying, “I accept your apology. Can I buy you a burger?”
Tucker’s steely eyes liquefied as the corners of his mouth turned up. Just like that, all was forgiven.
“We should probably clean up your face first.” He lifted his hand to cup my cheek, and rubbed a thumb under my eye. “It looks like a Rorschach test upchucked on your face.”
“Seriously. If you want to be my friend, don’t ever say that to me again. I mean it. Not cool.”
“There are baby wipes in the glove box, next to the tissues. Slade says they work wonders on cosmetic mishaps.”
“Baby wipes?” I asked, raising a brow.
Tucker rolled his eyes. “I keep them in the car for Rocky. You know, to wipe his hands and shit.” Tucker reached up and pulled his visor mirror open for me, then yanked open his glove box and pulled out the packet labeled “natural care.”
“Oh,” I said, looking at my reflection. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is bad.” I got busy cleaning my face. Those funny smelling cloths worked better than any of my expensive eye-makeup removers. Unfortunately, it took half his supply to undo the damage I’d done with my meltdown in the doctor’s office. With the way my eyeballs had been springing leaks the past few weeks, I’d have to invest in waterproof mascara.
“Sorry,” I said, holding up my wad of used towelettes. “I’ll need to replenish your supply.”
Tucker looked my way. His eyes softened when they fell on mine. “Aida,” he breathed, and brushed a strand of hair off my forehead. “You are so fucking beautiful. Why do you hide behind all that shit?”
Truck Stop Tryst Page 6
