Page 29 of Truck Stop Tempest
Tito leaned over the table, jaw clenched, his face inches from mine. “Listen to me, Tuuli. When we’re together, when we’re talking, you hold your head up. You look at me. Whatever the fuck is happening between us, you hold your head high. If you don’t like what I’ve got to say, look me in the eye and stand your ground. Got me?”
I nodded, biting my lip to hide the quiver.
He grabbed my chin and stole a kiss. A simple, sweet assurance. Then he held my gaze again. “Your eyes are full of secrets and stories. They are devastating and beautiful. Please don’t keep them from me.” With that, he pushed away from the table, pulled cash out of his wallet, and dropped it between our empty plates. “Come on. Let’s hit the road.”
My legs moved to follow. My guts, my heart, and my head lingered, not ready to leave the spot where I’d caught a rare glimpse of the real Tito Moretti.
The man who would most likely ruin me.
I would ruin her. Knew it deep. Didn’t fucking care.
With my fucked-up head and Tuuli’s unsettling confession about her upbringing, we were, without a doubt, a match made in hell. Any fool would agree. However, I’d never been one to cower from a challenge.
Then again, I’d never been one to lose my head over a woman. So where did that leave me?
On a date with a girl I would inevitably destroy. Or, quite possibly, fall victim to.
“Where are we going?” Tuuli asked when we’d settled in the car.
“I have something to show you.”
“Another luxury condo you plan on buying?”
“No.” I couldn’t decipher her tone, unsure if her question was a dig or a poke. Didn’t care much. She’d be happy when we reached our destination. “The other day, you said you don’t know what I do for a living. But you’ve never asked, either.”
“I figured you would tell me in your own time.”
“I like that you don’t pry.”
Her face turned three shades of pink. God, the girl wasn’t used to receiving compliments.
“I could explain my job, but it’ll be more fun to show you.”
We drove back through Whisper Springs, then around the lake, and pulled on to the private road that led to Aida’s new obsession: the mansion.
“Isn’t this the Clarkson Mansion?” Tuuli asked, leaning forward to take in the full view of the home.
“It is. You know it?”
“Oh, yeah. There are rumors it’s haunted. Kids from school used to sneak up here and scare the crap out of each other.”
“You’ve been here?” I shifted to park. Pulled the brake.
Tuuli fell back in her seat, shook her head. “My parents were overprotective. I wasn’t allowed out at night.”
“Come on.” I unfolded from the seat and jogged to her side of the car. She was already heading toward the front door. I snagged her hand and pulled her around the back of the massive home. “My office is around back. Private entrance.”
“Your office?” She stopped in her tracks, motioning toward the home. “You work here? I thought this place was abandoned.”
“It was vacant for years. Aida and Tucker own it now.”
“No way.”
“They’re turning it into a group home for at-risk teens.” Although I wasn’t lying about the plans Aida had for the home, I wasn’t entirely honest either. Only a handful of people knew the true purpose of the mansion we were renovating—a safe-haven for rescued children. Sex slaves, more accurately.
For the past few years, Tucker had been rescuing girls from the sex traffickers that plagued the highways. He spent many nights trolling websites and social media outlets, trucking apps and radio waves, searching for the fuckers who pimped underage girls. He would take down the johns and take the girls to a home in Montana where they would be rehabilitated. So far, none of the kids he’d rescued had returned to the streets, like so many often did.
Aida bought the Clarkson property for its size and privacy, so Tucker could continue his plight and remain close to home. I agreed to help, in part, because Aida hadn’t given me a choice. But mostly because I needed an outlet and taking down sick fuckers who hurt helpless children gave me the perfect opportunity to channel my ever-burning rage.