Page 67 of Trucker
Taji laughed.
“Really?” Taji asked in a breathy voice. “And how do you suggest I do that?”
I wiggled my brows at her making her laugh again.
“I don’t know.” I rested my palms on my hips. “You’ll think of something.”
The Sunday was no good for our date either with another job that was an emergency for a rebranding kit for some big-named author who had her last artist flake on her at the last minute.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Taji asked.
“I don’t mind.” I told her. “I’m going for my run.”
“Trucker…”
“It’s okay.”
And so Sunday floated by and if I had been honest, I’d admit not being able to steal time with her bothered me.
Monday morning, bright and early, I left the house without going for my run. Instead, I used the day to get my workout in by running the obstacles and other courses with the cadets.
For some strange reason Ryan hadn’t shown up that day and he hadn’t called in.
“Anyone know where Ryan is?” I asked after gathering the cadets.
“Nope.” One called from the back. “Honestly, he hasn’t been taking this seriously at all.”
“He’s right.” Andi added. “And it’s bothersome that he took that spot from someone else who would have appreciated it.”
I couldn’t disagree with that logic, but I said nothing.
Honestly, I was just over him. I had other important things to worry about, like who’d tossed a fucking rock through Taji’s front window.
I also wanted to know who dared to touch her—who took from her something she didn’t want to give them.
“You okay, Trucker?” Lennox asked.
“Yeah—I’m good.” I replied. “Go home. Rest.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He grinned. “Going.”
Alone at the station house, I called my friend Zulu. When she saw my face, she grinned and blew me a kiss.
“Hello, handsome.” Dayna “Zulu” Ruigere greeted me. “You good?”
“I’m good but I need a favour.”
“Anything, you know that.”
I proceeded to explain to her what was going on. After I gave her Esther’s name and Ryan’s, we talked for a little bit before I left her to work. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find, if anything, but I was pretty sure one or both of them were involved in what happened to the window.
Though it seemed like a simple enough incident, those tend to escalate.
Texting Taji not to make dinner, I stopped by the diner then headed back to the house. When I arrived, Taji wasn’t in her office. I placed everything in the kitchen then climbed the stairs.
“Sprite?” I called. “You here?”
“In the bedroom.”
