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I go back to staring out the window as I wait for my food. The man helps a little brown dog out of his truck, gripping the thin leash in his hand as he leads the furry creature toward a small patch of grass. A few of the truckers I’ve met have had pets on the road with them, and most of their personalities match the type of pet they own. I expected someone like him to have a Doberman or some sort of shepherd. But no, this little fluffy dog sticks close to his side as they walk toward the grass. It looks kind of like a Pomeranian mix.
The only Pomeranian I’ve ever met was this dog a girl in my class brought as an emotional support animal. I don’t know how much emotional support he provided. He was a yappy little ankle biter who would quite happily shit on your pillow if you let him into your dorm room. This man’s dog is the complete opposite. It seems well-mannered and quiet.
Thoughts of that Pomeranian in the dorms send my mind to dangerous places. I wish I hadn’t gone right to college after high school. Then running away from college just brought me to truck stops where I’m forced to get on my knees for a meal. It seems I’ve been running from things my entire life. Now I have nowhere else to run to.
And nowhere to sleep.
I’ve usually been asked to go on a date by now, but it’s too quiet tonight. There aren’t many trucks in the lot, and the guy who bought my dinner didn’t seem very interested. Once I’ve finished my steak, I’ll have to get out there and weasel my way into someone’s good graces. Hopefully, they’ll be as nice as the guy in the purple truck.
Chapter Five
Kane
While she sits inside and eats her meal, I wait in my truck. That girl sure is a pretty little thing. Modest too. She didn’t even want to accept the favor. I can see why Jax took a liking to her.
And why he tried so hard to keep me away.
No one can hold me back from something I really want, though, and especially not when what I want looks that good in a tight little jean skirt. Poor Jax really put up a fight to stay in control for her sake, but he’s just not strong enough.
I don’t really talk much about my alters because I consider them nuisances. They always seem to come knocking when I don’t want them to. Though their intentions are usually good, they can fuck right off about this. This is my life. My hobby. What I enjoy doing. I’m a forty-year-old man, so I figure they should be used to this by now. What I do. What we do. They can try to separate themselves from me all they want, but they are a part of me.
My fucking family. Estranged, but family all the same.
Jax is the sweet brother I needed.
Tobin is the pesky sibling I never wanted.
There are others as well, but Jax and Tobin are the two who come around most often. They’re the main contenders fighting for space in my brain. I’ve gained some and lost some over the years, but those two have remained consistent—consistent pains in my ass.
But I need them.
They hold the keys to the doors I can’t open. They hide the things that would hurt me and make me more dangerous than I am now. What could be worse than a highly prolific interstate serial killer? I don’t know. But I’d sure figure it out without them.
Some people believe that having alters makes me crazy. This couldn’t be further from the truth. My alters strive to keep me sane. They compartmentalize the pain, allowing me to escape it. Well, most of it. Sometimes the pain is too great to be contained behind a door. Sometimes it seeps through the cracks.
Movement catches my attention, and I look toward the truck stop. The girl exits the building, looking satisfied after her meal. My eyes lock on her, and a foggy haze falls over my mind. Someone wants to take over and put this truck in drive. They urge me to leave her behind.
But I focus on my breathing and tell him no.
He can’t keep me from her. No one can. Not even the person created to protect me from all the pain can keep me from inflicting so much hurt on someone else.
Pup whines beside me before settling on the seat. I reach over and pat her head while keeping my eyes glued to the girl walking toward the parking lot. Something about her seems broken. Not quite as broken as some of these bitches out here, but she’s experienced some amount of damage.
It’s not that I care, though. These are just observances. Things I notice. Whatever damaged her in the past will be child’s play compared to what I plan to do to her.
The young girl looks around the parking lot. She wraps her arms around herself as the breeze whips her auburn hair behind her. After studying the few trucks lined up on the side of the building, she starts toward the entrance to the highway. Her thumb goes into the air when she reaches the road, but she spares one more glance toward the trucks.
She knows what she’s doing. This is her signal, letting men like me know she’s open for business.
The nag behind my eyes can fuck off. She’s placed herself on a silver platter, and I’m ready to eat. She’s the one being stupid, walking around like a prime cut of meat in a market full of starved truckers. I won’t even have to abduct this one. She’ll willingly climb into my truck, especially after that sweet gesture from me.
I turn the key, and the engine roars to life. The mechanical sound fills the silence as I put it in gear and drive toward the highway entrance. My brakes depressurize as I pull up to a stop beside her, creating a loud hiss. I look into her pretty eyes as I roll down my window.
“You need a ride too?” I yell over the rumble of my truck.
She looks around, unsure whether she should take a ride from me. She has good intuition and every right to be concerned. Hitchhikers are my favorite kind of girl to grab. They typically come from nowhere, and with nowhere to be, they’re an excellent target.
The knock in my head recedes to a dull tap. Jax knows it’s too late. The trap has been set, and she’s already nibbling on the bait.
