Page 11 of Run Little Killer

LENNON

M y dreamless sleep comes to an end when I hear low murmurs and the rustling of sheets. I peel my eyes open just in time to watch the ripple of Rhett's back muscles as he strides out the door with his phone pressed to his ear.

With a groan, I stretch my arms above my head and kick the blankets off.

Swinging my legs around and pushing myself up to sit on the edge of the mattress, I realize I'm alone.

Through the half-open curtains, I watch Nix lean a shoulder against a post outside, lowering a cigarette from his mouth as he exhales a cloud of smoke and takes a drink from a paper cup.

Coffee .

Nothing motivates me more to get my ass out of bed than the sweet promise of caffeine.

I swipe the plastic bag from the truck stop off the dresser, dumping out the contents onto the crumpled pile of blankets.

Popping the tags off the leggings, I step into them and slide the fabric up my hips.

I go to do the same with the sweatshirt, pausing when I don't see my bra.

Where did I put the damn thing? Turning around, I kick through my discarded clothes from Briarwood, but it's not there.

Maybe I left it in the bathroom after my shower?

Moving to the doorway, I flip on the lights and swing my gaze around the room until I spot it. Bending at the waist, I pluck it up off the floor and start to straighten, freezing when my thumb brushes across something crusty .

Dry, white splotches cover the black material.

What the fuck?

Could one of the guys have gotten toothpaste on it this morning? No, Rhett just got out of bed right before me. I don't know how long Nix has been up, but he did take a shower in the middle of the night...

He wouldn't…

No, he totally would.

My feet slap against the floor as I stomp across the room, hinges squeaking as I fling open the door. Rhett's still on the phone over by his bike, but Nix lazily swivels his head in my direction.

"You're disgusting ," I spit, narrowing my eyes on him.

His lips curve into a smirk as he flicks the last of his cigarette into the parking lot and shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah?" I bark a laugh, rolling my eyes so hard it actually hurts as I shove the hand holding my bra into the center of his chest. "Then what's this, toothpaste ?"

His fingers curl around my wrist, pulling me against him. His dark hair is disheveled, peeking out from beneath the hood of his black sweatshirt, and his heady smell mixed with cigarette smoke invades my nostrils as he inspects the stains on the fabric.

"Doesn't look like it," he deadpans.

My brows slam down, lips pursing as I stare up at his stupidly handsome face. This man is infuriating, pressing my buttons every chance he gets, but it doesn't stop the coil in my belly from tightening at his touch– his jealousy .

Nix was watching last night as I rode Rhett through his sweats, coming apart on his fingers.

I tilt my head to the side. "I think someone was mad they had to get themselves off again ."

"Nah," he starts, expression unchanging as he leans forward and lowers his voice. "I like watching just as much."

Dirty images of Rhett railing me while Nix stands beside us, working his hard length until he's coming across my face flit through my mind. Heat pools between my legs at the thought, and judging by the rather large bulge pressing against my stomach, I'm not the only one imagining it.

"Isn't it a little early for you two to be at each other’s throats?” Rhett questions, pocketing his phone as he strides towards us.

Nix releases my wrist and I pivot around, hooking a thumb over my shoulder as I huff, "this sicko jizzed on my bra."

"Nark," Nix mutters behind me.

Stroking the stubble on his chin, Rhett stifles a laugh. "Can't ya rinse it off in the sink while you finish getting ready?"

"No," I scoff, "I don't even have a damn toothbrush, so I am ready."

With a shake of his head, he closes the distance between us, grabbing the bra from my hand and throwing it at Nix. "Wash this out while I take her to get a toothbrush."

Nix scowls back at him .

"C'mon darlin'," Rhett drawls, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"Why do I have to do it?" Nix grumbles.

"It's called being a gentleman, Hawthorne," Rhett admonishes as he nudges me forward, gently leading me away. "Unless you're willing to clean it, you shouldn't come on it."

Nix mutters a string of curses as we walk away, towards the lobby. Bells jingle as Rhett pulls back the door, holding it open, revealing the same dingy tan carpet as our room.

"Morning," the older lady behind the front desk greets as we step inside, old wood paneling covering the walls.

I smile and nod, immediately distracted the moment the orgasmic smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose.

"Mornin'," Rhett says, resting a forearm on the chipped formica counter. "Can we get an extra toothbrush?"

"Sure, handsome," she replies, eyeing his bare torso before she bends down and pulls out a plastic tub. "Help yourself."

"Thanks," I say, stepping forward and grabbing a cellophane wrapped toothbrush and a cheap plastic comb.

She shifts her gaze from Rhett’s hard abs to me, instantly focusing on my scar before meeting my eyes. "I'm gonna get some coffee," I murmur, pivoting on a heel and heading for the breakfast table.

I guess the only good thing about Briarwood was the fact that everyone overlooked my scar to the point I could forget it was there.

It probably would have healed better if I went to the hospital right away instead of the next day.

I panicked when Natalie said she was calling the cops because I stabbed her.

She did it first though, I was just defending myself, trying to get her to stop yelling and listen to me.

But she wouldn't, and I needed to get away.

So I did the only thing I could think of…

I ran. Blood trailing down my cheek, vision blurred and my head throbbing, I just ran.

"Pour me some?" Rhett asks, placing a paper cup down next to mine.

Steam billows up as I shift the carafe from my cup to his, filling it to the brim. "Oh shit, sorry," I wince, replacing the pot. "Did you need room for cream?"

"Darlin’," he chuckles, his lips tugging up as he reaches for the plastic lids and starts securing them in place. "There's only one thing I want to put cream in, and it's not coffee."

My stomach swoops and heat licks up my spine as his fingers brush mine when he hands me a lid for my cup.

For what I'm sure is the first time in my life, I'm at a loss for words.

This man made me come hard– twice – and his dick never even entered me.

I can't fathom the earth-shattering orgasm this man could deliver if he was fully inside me. ..

Raw, next question.

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek to keep the stupid schoolgirl grin from spreading across my face as I slide past him and pretend to be engrossed by the breakfast spread.

Charred toast, a box of Raisin Bran, a bowl of sad bananas, and a questionable plate of what I think were scrambled eggs in a past life sit beside a basket of pre-wrapped pastries.

The bells above the front door jingle again as I opt for the item least likely to give me food poisoning, swiping up a packet of mini donuts.

I take a few steps toward the door, letting Rhett rifle through the basket for himself.

Glancing behind me, I spot a middle-aged woman leaning over the desk, animatedly talking to the lady behind it.

I'm not one for eavesdropping– oh who the hell am I kidding, I definitely am – so I shamelessly try to listen into their conversation.

I don't like drama, but I do like hearing the tea, and it was in short supply at Briarwood.

...they haven't found her. They say she escaped from the asylum in the middle of the night after killing an orderly!

My word! Have they released any details?

Just a picture, and her name-

"Lennon?" Rhett says at the same time a cacophony of beeps from a smoke detector pierce my ears.

I go rigid, practically feeling my soul leave my body as I stand there and try not to look guilty.

I need to get out of here.

"That better not be the bacon burning, Phil!" the receptionist yells.

My heart hammers in my chest as I spin on my heels and hurry outside.

"Lennon?" Rhett calls out again, footsteps thundering behind me.

I'm halfway back to the room when his fingers catch my elbow and pull me to a halt. Hot liquid sloshes out of my cup with the motion, scalding my hand as I hiss in pain.

"Fuck, you okay?"

"What?" I stammer, the phantom sounds of alarm bells still ringing in my ears.

"Didn't mean to make you spill your coffee."

I swallow roughly, slowly glancing down to the raised pink patch of skin on the back of my palm.

There's no blood. I'm not at Briarwood.

Shaking my head, I look up into blue eyes laced with concern as they pin me in place. "I'm fine," I manage after a beat.

"Do you always run like you just killed someone?" he jokes .

"Ha," I squeak out nervously, trying to think of a lie. "Just have to pee."

His brow raises in the slightest as he studies my face. "Okay," he says, sounding less than convinced as he releases his hold.

The silence is deafening as we walk the rest of the way to the room. Nix's feet are propped on the table when we enter, and I set my coffee and donuts down before promptly locking myself in the bathroom.

I toss down the toothbrush and comb and twist the faucet handle all the way to the right. Cold water streams down into the basin as I bend down and splash it across my face.

I'm not caught. Nobody knows it was me.

My pulse starts to slow as I repeat the words to myself like a mantra, straightening as I grab the towel and pat my face.

Scooting the blow dryer over, I grab a tube of toothpaste from one of the guy’s toiletry bags and unwrap the toothbrush.

I zone out, methodically brushing my teeth and combing my hair.

Forcing the last of my anxious feelings into a tiny little box and shoving it into the recesses of my mind.

"I need to get going," I announce, stepping back into the room and shoving what few things I have into a plastic sack.

"And where are you going again, little killer?" Nix asks, boots thudding on the floor as he tips forward in his chair.

"Englewood," I state boredly, not bothering to look up as I slip my feet into the new sneakers.

"You're in luck, found out we're headed that way now," Rhett says, tugging a t-shirt on over his head. "We'll give you a ride. "

"Oh no, that's okay. I need to get back to my truck and- "

"We know it's not yours."

"What?" I blanch, voice barely above a whisper.

Rhett folds his thick, tattooed arms across his chest, voice stern. "We know it's not your truck, Lennon."

My face remains impassive as panic floods my system. Shit, they know.

"Fine," I grit out. "I'll just go ask one of the truckers to give me a lift."

"The hell you will," Nix fires back. He pushes to his feet, quickly eating up the distance between us until he's right beside me.

I lunge toward the door, desperate to get away. My fingers scrabble for the knob as his palm splays across the top of the wood, forcing the door shut.

"Let me out!" I growl, jaw tensing as I curl my hand around the knob. Hinges creak, followed by a series of thumps as I rattle the door.

"Christ," Nix grumbles as he steps forward, dipping down, burying his shoulder into my stomach as he bands an arm around my thighs, picking me up in one swift motion.

Before I can object, he picks me up and swiftly dumps me on the bed, ass landing in the mess of blankets atop it.

"You don't have to tell us what you’re running from," he says, carding a hand through his hair. His thumb and forefinger grip my chin, roughly jerking it up as he adds, “but you sure as hell aren't doing it alone."