Last Chance At The Someday Café. Angel Smits

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      “I’m looking for a load for you so this trip won’t be a complete waste.”

      That quieted Morgan’s next comments. Their company had several over-the-road hauling contracts. But what Jack was best at, and what had made them successful, was his brokering skills. The rest of the crew worked on everyday loads. But Morgan had a mission that had nothing to do with their regular customers, and if Jack could get him one-time loads, it paid well. As long as you weren’t picky about what was riding behind you.

      And Morgan wasn’t. Morgan was freestyling as he hunted for his ex, who’d taken off with their daughter before the divorce and custody agreement had been finalized.

      Nearly a year had passed since Morgan had seen his daughter, Brooke. She was supposed to start school this fall, and Morgan refused to think about her doing so anywhere but home, refused to even entertain the idea that she might actually not start school at all. Sylvie wasn’t that organized or dedicated to anything.

      Despite finishing his workout, Morgan nearly started lifting the weights again. Frustrated energy was the worst to burn off.

      “So where you headed next?” Jack asked, without looking up from the computer screen.

      When Sylvie had first disappeared, and Morgan had decided to hunt for her and Brooke, Jack had bought him a map of the entire United States that dominated one wall.

      They both knew Sylvie well enough to know she wasn’t going to take Brooke out of the States, but there were forty-eight of them and he’d driven through most of them trying to find her.

      That US map had eventually been covered up by a new one of just the western states. It had taken only a couple months to narrow down where she’d gone. The network of truckers Morgan and his crew knew had provided a lot of the early information. Following the trail of credit cards had also helped—until Sylvie apparently realized she was leaving a trail. Now it was a map of just Texas. At least she’d stayed in the same state.

      “Here.” Morgan swept his hand over the western part of the state, waving his hand over the area west of Austin. “There was a charge on one of her old cards last week.”

      “It could have been stolen,” Jack suggested.

      “Yeah. Or she could be just passing through.” But he couldn’t ignore even the smallest clue. The small bedroom communities he was heading to were kitschy tourist towns with streets lined with old junkshops, eclectic restaurants and run-down motels. Sylvie territory.

      No place for a child. Especially his child.

      His frustration at not having found her, and at being stupid enough to get involved with someone like Sylvie in the first place, bubbled to the surface in the form of guilt. His protective streak was too ingrained, but she hadn’t wanted his protection, hadn’t ever planned to stay.

      What if he never saw Brooke again? Or worse, what if the next time he saw his daughter, she was an adult who came to find him and wanted to know why he’d never looked for her, never found her? He swallowed the panic and resisted the urge to smash something.

      “Get out of your head, Morgan.” Jack’s voice broke into his thoughts.

      “And you wonder why I listen to the music?”

      “No, I don’t wonder.” Jack did look at Morgan this time. “Let’s get you a load, if we can. Hopefully, we can at least cover the fuel.”

      “Hey.” Morgan pulled out a chair, spinning, then straddling it, stacking his thick arms on top of the back. “How much is this straining the business? Is it making it too rough on you?”

      Jack didn’t stop typing, his fingers smacking the keys loud and hard. “No. We’re tight, like we always are, but we’re good.”

      “Are you sure?” The tension Morgan could see in his brother’s shoulders denied the reassurances.

      “Even if we aren’t?” Jack stopped typing and looked up. “She’s important to me, too. She’s my niece, Morgan. This is my mission, too. So get to work. I’ll get you a load.” He went back to typing.

      “Thanks.” Morgan stood and carefully put the chair back. “I’m taking the truck for a bath. I’ll start my checks after we grab dinner.”

      Jack nodded. “I’ll have your route mapped out by then.”

      Outside, the afternoon sun was bright, but the wind was cold, cutting through him. He’d left his jacket in the truck, not needing it this morning. He smelled damp in the air. Sucky start of a run.

      There’d been way too much rain this year. And the season wasn’t over yet. The last time he’d gone out, he’d been stuck in El Paso for two days, unable to get back because of the flooding. This time, if he got stuck, maybe it’d be closer to either Sylvie and Brooke, or home.

      The big Peterbilt roared to life, purring beneath his hands, rumbling as he pulled across the yard. Nearly a dozen trailers sat parked inside the fence. These were empty right now, but by tomorrow, Jack would work his magic and the trailers would be out of here, on their way to being loaded, then delivered.

      Two men headed toward the office. Phil and Brian—good men. Jack knew the crew better than he did these days. When was the last time Morgan had taken the chance to chat with them? He missed that. Missed time with his brother. He closed his eyes for an instant. He just missed downtime.

      But finding Brooke was more important.

      And if he missed anything, it was her.

      He drove out of the yard, under the big steel sign he’d been so proud to hang—Thane Brothers Trucking. He’d worked damned hard to build this company. Hell, he still did, but what good was it doing any of them?

      Damn Sylvie. He sighed and flipped on the stereo. Blaring the hard rock forced the emotions out of his head. He steered to the truck wash, not letting himself dwell on what did—or did not—lay ahead on this trip. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this, how much longer he could ask Jack and the others to shoulder his share of the load.

      Sitting there, waiting for the attendant to guide him into place, Morgan wrestled with his indecision.

      This run had to be a success. He had to find Brooke. When he’d first reported them missing, the authorities had done what they could. They kept him informed. But it wasn’t fast enough. Yesterday wasn’t soon enough to have his daughter back.

      Morgan was running out of time. He knew it. He’d never stop looking, never stop searching for her. But he also knew Jack was lying to him. Things were tight, too tight. Jack needed him to get back in the office, to help run the company they’d built together. Morgan needed to do his job. He owed Jack and his crew that.

      Damn it.

      He couldn’t ask his brother or his men to sacrifice anything more. This had to be his last run. Either he found them and came home—or he didn’t and he gave up on this quest.

      It was the right decision.

      So why did it make his heart ache?

      * * *

      TIRED BEYOND BELIEF, Tara brushed the soft СКАЧАТЬ