Page 12 of Run Little Killer
LENNON
" R eady darlin'?" Rhett asks, twisting the handlebars and leaning his motorcycle upright.
"Yup," I respond, popping the P as I loop my arms around his waist.
Rhett reaches back, heat licking up my spine as his hands clasp down on my thighs, pulling me flush against him.
The bike rocks as he kicks back the side stand, my whole body thrumming when he revs the engine to life.
My heart lurches into my throat as we jerk forward and follow Nix out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.
Rhett pulls up beside Nix, matching his speed as they share the lane.
I turn my head to the side, watching the trees blur past. I don't know where we're going or why they're suddenly heading in the same direction as me, but I'd bet it has something to do with the phone call that pulled Rhett out of bed this morning.
Not that it really matters. They didn't pry into my agenda, so I’ll give them the same courtesy.
At least we’re on the road. After hearing the receptionist talk about Chad, I knew that I needed to get the hell out of there.
I did a shit job at planning past my escape, and it keeps coming back to bite me in the ass.
Luckily, Rhett and Nix were there to save it.
I know I can't depend on them forever, and I need to focus on fleshing out my next moves– because once we get to Englewood, I'll be off to get my revenge and they'll continue on their way.
Why does the thought of that make my stomach sink?
Probably because of the relentless little voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me I won't succeed in taking down my monsters. Or maybe I’m just not quite ready to say goodbye to the guys.
Last night, Rhett did more than give me earth-shattering orgasms. He made me feel safe for the first time in forever.
The nightmares started around my second week at Briarwood.
Every last detail of that night came crashing back in, knocking me so far off my axis that I’d wake up screaming and soaked in sweat.
Apparently I scratched one of the night nurses' retinas when she was trying to get me to calm down.
They restrained me to the bed after that.
The next night was even worse. Each second seemed to stretch on for hours, and when I woke up strapped to the bed, unable to move, I had a full blown panic attack.
The next night, I was too damn terrified to even sleep.
Every time I'd start to drift off, I'd sink my teeth into my lip, peeling back pieces of skin until my mouth was raw and bloody. That earned me a sedation.
When I finally woke up, my head felt just like it did after that terrible night, so I cried until I threw up.
They responded by upping my meds so much that it smothered my personality and made me numb.
I'd sit there staring at the wall, losing hours, feeling nothing but hollow.
So I started to pinch myself, digging deeper and harder each time, drawing blood until the pain was more than just a sensation and I could feel something tangible inside me again.
That earned me a trip to the seclusion room in my very own 'garment restraint'– because that term sounds so much better than straight jacket.
My therapy regime became more intense and I was shifted to Ms. Davies' care.
She got my meds adjusted down, and after getting a few nights of sleep without any nightmares, I started to feel better.
Almost like myself. Until the nightmares returned, that is.
I closed my eyes and I’d be right back there with him covering my mouth, making it impossible to breathe as I tried to scream for help.
I woke up coughing and gasping for air, and when the nurse came in, I was so terrified of being restrained or isolated or given more pills again that I started to hyperventilate.
They took me to the infirmary, and after I calmed down, the charge nurse wrote it off as just allergies or a cold causing a coughing fit.
Ms. Davies did help me with the nightmares, even though I never told her exactly what they were about. No one believed me the first, second, or third time I tried to tell the truth of what happened, so why would they now?
Over time, the frequency of the nightmares started to lessen.
Sometimes it wasn't even a full blown nightmare– just my skin crawling like his hands were all over me again.
But after I woke up to creepy Chad groping me one night, I started to wonder if it was the monster in my mind or in my ward responsible for my night terrors.
It's been at least a month since I last had one, and when I do get them, they usually come in threes. So if last night was the first, that means I'm in for it again tonight.
Can't wait for another chance to embarrass myself.
Rhett was sweet, though. He didn't look at me with pity or ask what it was about.
Instead he comforted me, he touched me. His hands didn't feel foreign– I waited for itching to start, for my skin to feel like it was coated in acid, but it didn't. Instead, I actually liked his touch, the way his calloused fingers gently scraped against my thighs and down to my pussy.
I craved it, needing more of him, so I climbed on top so I could have more control.
After, when we were both calm and sated, he held me. The steady sound of his heart beating beneath my ear lulled back to sleep in minutes. It was some of the best sleep I’ve had in ages, devoid of those dark thoughts that creep in when you’re barely on the edge of awareness.
A car horn suddenly blares, yanking me from my thoughts, and my spine goes rigid as we swerve towards the shoulder.
Panic seizes my chest as the bike wobbles, gravel kicking up as my arms tighten around Rhett's waist. He swiftly regains control, the bike steadying as he steers us back onto the pavement.
Rhett's gloved hand comes to rest on top of mine as I start to count my inhales, trying to get my breathing under control.
In for four...
My breath hitches, head snapping forward at the sound of crunching glass.
A teal Prius speeds by, its side mirror dangling by a cord and glass missing.
Rhett squeezes my hand, my tension slowly starting to fade as his fingers curl around mine and his thumb traces across my skin.
The gesture is comforting, protective, and so goddamn sexy .
Nix pulls up beside us, pupils blown wide as he darts a glance at me, then Rhett, some silent conversation passing between them.
He jerks a nod, dark eyes sliding back to mine, looking more crazed than ever.
I swallow roughly, the heat of his glare burning into me as I dip my chin, acknowledging that I'm okay.
Nix twists the throttle, engine roaring as he shoots forward and veers onto an exit ramp. Rhett’s still holding my hand as we follow, slowing to turn into a parking lot.
I glance up at the retro looking building, shiny and silver with 'Kelly's Diner' scrolled in cursive, red neon glowing faintly in the sunlight.
Rhett gives my hand one last squeeze as we come to a stop and he maneuvers the motorcycle into a parking stall.
Killing the engine, he twists the handlebars and toes down the kickstand.
Nix hops off his own bike, stalking towards us and outstretching his hand to me.
Almost reluctantly, I unwrap my arms from Rhett's waist to a hand in his waiting palm. "Thanks," I say, my legs trembling in the slightest when my feet hit the ground.
"You okay?" Nix asks, grip tightening as he studies my face.
"Yeah," I breathe out. "What happened?"
"The cuck was on his phone," he growls, releasing my hand. "Kept cutting into our lane, so I gave him a warning."
"Yeah," Rhett snorts as he steps up behind me. "With your boot."
"Didn't need you blowing out your knees again, old man," he fires back, repositioning his backwards hat and striding towards the diner’s entrance.
The bell chimes as he pulls open the door, and I step inside behind him, the smell of greasy food filling my nose as I clock his bloodied knuckles.
Rhett heads for a table and I pause, cocking a brow in Nix's direction. "I thought you used your boot?"
"That was the warning, Lennon," he deadpans. "He did it again so I adjusted his mirror. "
And here I thought Rhett was the only protective one.
The two of us wander over to the booth Rhett claimed, but when I go to slide in beside him, Nix yanks me back to his own side and murmurs, "Sit, little killer."
I have a sarcastic comment locked and loaded, but when I meet his gaze, there's something awfully close to concern etched into his features. So, I bite my tongue, sinking down onto the vinyl bench beside him, my thigh brushing against his denim clad one in the process.
"Welcome in," an older woman in a pale yellow uniform says as she approaches and hands us each a laminated menu. "What can I get you kids to drink?"
"Black coffee and a water, please," I say with a smile.
The guys place their drink orders, and the waitress pivots on a heel and heads off, promising to be right back.
I scan over the menu, mouth watering at the pictures of breakfast platters, meatloaf and sides, and homemade desserts.
Everything here looks so damn good, unlike at Briarwood.
The food there was so bland and mushy that if you didn't already have depression, you'd start to develop it from the meals alone.
Right as I decide on a juicy looking cheeseburger and fries, my stomach rumbles loudly.
"Thought you were going to feed and water the bitch," Nix jabs, eyeing Rhett.
Rolling my eyes, I place my menu at the edge of the table. "The bitch had coffee and mini donuts while you were getting gas."
Nix chuckles, tongue darting out, the silver ball of his piercing running along his upper lip.
Before he can respond, the waitress returns with our drinks, placing them in front of us and taking our food orders.
She jots everything down on a small notepad, Rhett's phone vibrating against the table top as she gathers the menus and returns to the kitchen.
He tilts it up, focusing on the screen for a moment, then clicking it off.
"Mav?" Nix asks, taking a sip of his soda.
"Yeah," Rhett nods. "Said Kurt at Huber Auto can get us in tomorrow morning."
"Good. Oil change or tires?" Nix questions.
They continue talking about their bikes, cargo, and routes, while I relax back, eyes touring the diner.
It's actually pretty cute with its black and white checkered floor, a jukebox sitting near the counter, and vintage food ads in sleek black frames lining the pale pink walls.
A small TV is mounted in the back corner behind Rhett, the news playing with the volume muted.
My mouth goes dry, blood turning to ice in my veins as I lock eyes with a familiar face on the screen– mine .