Page 13 of Run Little Killer

NIX

" R oute’s a little longer than usual, but after that, we'll head home," Rhett says, taking another drink of his coffee.

"Is this auto shop insured?" I ask.

"Yup, looking at a couple Ks in coverage each," he replies with a smirk.

I nod slowly, leaning back in the booth as he picks up his phone.

We're always careful with what and how we talk about club business in public.

It's not that what we do is illegal, but what we’re protecting might be.

Protection runs aren't unusual for us, but doing one for someone new is.

And the fact we have Lennon with us throws in even more variables, but it's Mav's club and his word is law.

Lennon shifts beside me, her body stiffening like she's seen a ghost. In my peripheral, I see the color draining from her face as she stares wide-eyed towards the back of the diner.

I start to swivel my head in that direction when she suddenly snaps a hand out to grab my face.

Her nails pierce my skin as she yanks me closer, crushing her mouth against mine.

There's a frantic urgency in how she holds me in place, her lips soft but the kiss hard, fueled by desperation and laced with sin.

Steely grey eyes flutter open while our lips are still locked, gazing up at me before darting towards Rhett, then back.

Her grip begins to loosen as she tries to pull back and break our connection, but I'm not done yet.

She started this and I intend to finish it.

I curl my fingers around the nape of her neck, forcing her mouth tighter against mine.

She gasps in surprise, those same lips that I know would look fucking perfect wrapped a round my dick parting in the slightest. I seize the opportunity, our tongues tangling and teeth clashing, her pulse quickening beneath my palm as a mewl of pleasure escapes her throat.

Fuck . That sound .

My cock thickens beneath my zipper, and I'm half a second from hauling her off to the bathroom and railing her against the wall when Rhett has the goddamn audacity to clear his throat.

"Want some privacy?"

Lennon pulls back and I chuckle as I sink my fingers into her hair and tilt her head. Her face is flushed, lips swollen, her lust-filled gaze locking with mine. "Don't kiss me unless you're riding my dick," I murmur, voice low.

Her throat bobs with a swallow, breath hitching as I lean in closer, lips skimming the lobe of her ear as I whisper, "That was your free pass."

"And you know I like being watched as much as I like watching," I add, swiveling my attention to Rhett.

He smirks and shakes his head. Dirty old bastard has everyone fooled thinking he's a damn gentleman, but he's no better than I am. I didn't miss how he pushed the blankets back so I could have a better view of Lennon's pussy swallowing his eager fingers last night. Show off.

"I've gotta pee," Lennon announces, pushing to her feet.

As she rushes off towards the bathroom, the waitress approaches our table with a tray of food. I take my cheesesteak from her as she sets a pork chop down in front of Rhett and a burger and fries beside Lennon's water glass.

The bread is perfectly toasted and the steak practically melts in my mouth as I take a big bite.

Fucking delicious . Unless it's ramen or cereal, I'm shit for cooking.

The only thing my mother knew how to cook was meth, and she wasn't even good at that.

When I was ten, she burnt our landlord's garage down and got sentenced to six years.

By the time she got out, I was serving two years in juvie for carjacking.

I'm already halfway through my sandwich when Lennon reappears. She runs a hand through her wavy locks as she slides back into the booth beside me, her face impassive. But the distant look in her eyes is her tell.

When people have been broken and tested, there's a light in their eyes that dies off. They can mask it and fake it so most people don't even notice, but when you've been through the same shit, you do.

"All good?” I ask, reaching for the ketchup.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she quips, snatching the bottle of ketchup from my hands.

"Bitch," I murmur as she sticks her tongue out like a fucking brat.

"Just took off like you were rattled by somethin'," Rhett says, cutting into his potato.

"The only thing rattling was my bladder from the ride," she huffs as she sets the bottle down as far from me as possible, swiping a fry through the red glob on her plate. "How far are we from Englewood?" she asks before popping it into her mouth.

"Still a good couple days," I reply with a shrug.

"Seriously?"

"Yup, got a few stops to make along the way," I answer, dipping a tater-tot into her ketchup.

"Hey!" she shouts, slapping at my hand.

"You in a hurry to get home?" Rhett asks, taking a bite of his own food.

"I just have something to take care of," she says before stuffing another fry into her mouth.

"Something or someone?" I joke.

Her lips press into a thin line, a spark flickering in her eyes. It's almost scary, but rather than smother it, I want to pour gasoline on it and watch the chaos ensue.

A haggard cough sounds before the waitress reappears, and Lennon instantly tips her head down, focusing on her burger.

"Everyone doing okay?" the old crone asks.

Lennon nods her head and hums as Rhett gives her a quick yeah and I cut her a glare. Unbothered, she turns and walks off. Lennon doesn't say anything else while we finish eating, and all I can think of is how badly I want to see that look in her eyes again.

Rhett tosses a few bills down on the table as we shuffle out of the booth and make our way outside.

Lennon starts to head toward Rhett's bike like it wasn't just yesterday we were fighting to get her to come with us and now it's the most natural fucking thing in the world for her to be riding with him.

That ends now.

"Ride with me, little killer," I say, knocking down a foot peg with my boot and hitching up my jeans to swing a leg over the seat of my Harley.

"Hard pass," Lennon scoffs, pausing beside Rhett.

"Wasn't asking," I murmur as my lips curl back, corners pulling up in a feral grin. "Consider that the warning."

The muscle in her jaw feathers, eyes narrowing as she tilts her head to the left, studying me.

I want her to push back, fight me– hell, my dick is begging for her to run. She made a mistake in kissing me. She gave me a taste, and now I need more.

Seconds pass, my tongue tracing across my teeth. Go ahead and run, little killer . I start to stand, ready to chase after her, pin her down, and tear into her tight little cunt.

She lets out a disgruntled sigh, rolling her eyes as she walks towards me.

"Thatta girl," I say, her hand clamping down on my shoulder as she steps up and sinks down on the leather seat behind me.

Rocking the bike upright, I kick back the stand and turn the key right as my hat is whipped off my head. I twist around to see Lennon position my black Deviant Devils hat onto her own head.

"I need it more than you."

Well fuck me if she doesn't look sexy in it, that primal desire stirring back to life inside me. Waiting, wanting any reason to claim and devour her.

I let her have this one, tugging the black bandana up over my mouth and nose before jerking a nod at Rhett.

He nods back, rocks kicking out from under his tires as he twists the throttle and peels away from the diner.

As I roll forward, Lennon settles in, arms snaking around me.

The heat of her body blankets my back as she molds against me, leaning into the turn as we pull onto the highway .

Hasson is only a few hours from here. We'll get into town tonight, grab a motel, and be at Huber Auto first thing in the morning.

Mav is smart, keeping one foot in each world.

We don't ever haul any of the goods ourselves, we just make sure no one rips off the person who’s transporting them.

When it comes to club business and the protection runs, we don't ask specifics.

As long as it's not fucking trafficking people , I don't give a shit what they transport.

Mav brought me into the fold and told me to prospect after I helped save his ass ten years ago.

I was barely twenty-one and in a piss poor mood, posted up in the alley behind some shithole bar after burying my mom.

It became my go-to after I found her dead.

I spent the majority of a week posted up on the stool at the end of the counter, drowning myself in cheap whiskey.

No one talked to you there, the old broad behind the bar always had a heavy pour, and after dealing with the tweakers that showed up to the funeral, I needed a strong drink.

I'd just finished my cigarette and tossed it to the ground when I saw Mav get jumped.

It was two on one, and as he laid one of them out, he got his shit rocked and fell backwards.

I jumped in and beat the fucker bloody while Mav came to.

I wish I could say I did it because I was trying to be a good guy and help someone out, but I didn't. I was so pissed off about my mom choosing the fucking drugs again that I was looking for any excuse to feel my knuckles split open.

I didn't hesitate– hell I didn't care if they jumped Mav because he was innocent or guilty– I just needed to release the anger.

I hadn't seen my mom for almost five years, I'd written her off, and then one day she just appeared again.

She wasn't clean, but she looked half decent and seemed to be functioning.

I knew better, but deep down, there was a stupid part of me that thought she'd finally change for me.

I was her kid, after all, and she'd done a shit job at being there for me when I was little, but when she waltzed in with her plans to go to rehab and move to Phoenix with her newest boyfriend, she seemed happy.

And she was– just not enough to stop her from chasing one last high before checking in.

Too bad that batch was cut with fentanyl.

She left me there– alone– after she had the fucking audacity to come back into my life. It would’ve been better if she'd stayed away or died before tracking me down. Instead, she made my last memory of her finding her crumpled up body in a pool of vomit on the floor of her apartment.

Each time my fist connected with the faceless fuck pinned to the asphalt beneath me, it was a cathartic release. I couldn't yell at her and tell her what a shitty mom she was, but beating that shithead within an inch of his own life was a close second.

Mav offered to buy me a drink after that, and next thing I knew, I was a hang around at his motorcycle club. In a way, if it wasn't for my mom, I might not have found the club. Then again, if she'd loved me more than the drugs, maybe I wouldn't have needed the club.

It wasn't long after that Rhett took me under his wing, and I became a prospect. I started tagging along on protection runs with him and Grim. Grim lived for no one but the Deviant Devils and the bottle. Hell, not even Cirrhosis of the liver could keep him from the bar at the end of the night. After he passed, it became just me and Rhett doing the runs, which I don’t mind at all.

Lennon shifts in the slightest, and I cram all my thoughts back into their box, punting it into the abyss of my mind.

Her hand taps on the crest of my thigh before a little finger points toward the rest stop ahead on the right.

I nod in acknowledgement, twisting the throttle and sliding up beside Rhett.

As he glances in my direction, I tap my gas tank and motion towards the exit.

He tips his head and I pull back, following him off the highway.

The kickstand has barely touched the pavement before Lennon starts squirming her way off the back of the bike.

"Watch the-"

"Pipes, I know," she rushes out, gripping onto my shoulders. "Ugh my legs," she groans, jumping off and swaying a step before jogging to the bathroom.

Leaning forward on my handlebars, I watch the brick building, making sure no creeps give her trouble and for the seemingly dwindling chance she chooses to run.

It’s a shame she doesn’t, because I’m in the mood for a good hunt, and she makes the prettiest prey.