Page 5 of Run Little Killer

LENNON

" H ere," Rhett says, thrusting a pair of black rubber muck boots towards me as Nix and I approach the truck. "Put these on."

I scrunch up my nose, lifting my hands to avoid touching the questionable footwear. "Ew, no."

He glances over my shoulder at Nix before cocking a dark blonde brow in my direction. "Why not?"

"I don't know where those have been," I say, stepping back and folding my arms tightly across my chest.

"They were in the bed of your truck, darlin'." He smirks, extending the well-worn boots toward me again.

Of course they fucking were . Good old Raymond was prepared. I should be happy they were in there so I don't have to explain how I wound up here barefoot in the first place, but something about slipping on a stranger’s shoes just gives me the ick.

"They’re probably still wet inside," I mutter. "I don't want to get some weird foot fungus."

Before Rhett can respond, Nix rips the boots from his hands and shoves them at my chest. "Put the fucking boots on, Lennon," he growls.

My fists clench, arms dropping to my sides as I fight the intrusive thought to chuck them at his smug face. He nudges them against me again, the muscle in his jaw clenching with annoyance.

Reluctantly, I take them from him, rolling my eyes as I move to the tailgate. "I don't know why it even fucking matters."

"Because I'm not going to listen to you bitch about your feet getting burnt by the pipes," he grits out, peeling off his hat and stabbing a hand through his dark locks before replacing it.

Pursing my lips, I cut him a glare as I reach for my bloodied socks and pull them back on.

With a shake of his head, Nix slaps Rhett’s phone into his palm before pivoting on a heel and stalking off towards his motorcycle.

Flipping down a little foot pedal near the back tire, he hikes up his dark jeans and swings a leg over to mount the Harley.

"C'mon,” he commands with a lift of his chin. “We don't got all damn night."

I bark a laugh, sliding my feet into the cold, damp boots. "You think after all that," I wave a finger around in the air, "I'm just going to crawl onto the back of your bike? You're crazy."

"Yeah," he scoffs, something smoldering in his dark eyes as they slowly drag up my body. " I'm the crazy one."

My jaw tightens, molars gnashing together. My pulse thrums loudly in my ears as I grit out, " What did you just say?!"

Nix shakes his head, a deep chuckle rumbling from his throat as he drags the black bandana up and over his nose.

“Don’t fucking call me crazy,” I spit, nails biting into my palms as my fingers clench into fists at my sides, stomping towards his arrogant ass.

The boots are way too big, slipping off my heels and slowing me down with each rage-fueled stride, but I don’t give a singular fuck because I’m not crazy.

I rear my arm back, ready to ram my knuckles into his pretty face when a large hand curls around my elbow to stop me.

"Easy, darlin'," Rhett drawls, the deep rattle of his voice possessing an oddly soothing quality. "Why don't you ride with me?"

I swivel my head around to face him, considering.

Faded gray and black flannel clings to his broad shoulders as he towers over me.

I should find him intimidating, be weary of this tattooed biker in a leather vest, but there isn’t a red flag in sight.

Nope, just big biceps, blonde hair, and an easy grin.

There’s something about his damn smile that makes me want to drop to my knees and comply.

"Fine," I huff, lowering my fist as Rhett slings an arm around my shoulders and directs me towards his matte black motorcycle.

He's decidedly less scary than Nix, that's for sure. Judging by the lines etched at the corners of his deep blue eyes and streaks of white in his stubble, he's the oldest of the two– total daddy vibes.

"Keep that bitch on a leash!" Nix calls out as he starts his bike.

And the only one with manners.

"Mother fucker ," I spit, twisting away from Rhett and making a rush at Nix again.

A hand darts out to grip my arm, spinning me around before Rhett effortlessly hoists me up and slings me over his shoulder. "Easy killer," he chuckles as his arm bands around my thighs .

Deciding not to fight him, I heave a sigh as my hair sways in front of my face with each of his long strides. Rhett dumps me on the back of his bike and I raise my middle finger high in the air, not even bothering to glance back in Nix’s direction.

Rhett settles in front of me, directing me to wrap my arms around his torso. "Hold on real tight," he instructs. "Relax and just lean into the curves when I do. I'll keep you safe."

I turn my face, resting my cheek against his back and nodding as the engine rumbles to life between our legs.

Nix zips by and we start after him, quickly gaining speed on the dark highway.

Anxiety bubbles in my chest at the rush, the wind cutting through the thin material of my sweatshirt as we split the lane beside Nix.

The first and last time I was on a motorcycle was when my car wouldn’t start and Nathan offered me a ride home after we closed the bar.

I should’ve known the ride would be a disaster, but it didn’t stop me from climbing on anyways.

Nathan was as cocky as they come, and he made a point to gun it through every intersection on the short drive– but the final straw was when he popped a wheelie and I clung to him for dear life as I screamed.

The fucker only laughed and we’d barely even came to a stop at a red light before I hopped off and walked my ass the rest of the way home.

There's a vulnerability in being exposed like this.

While I don't know these guys, I feel like I can at least trust Rhett– for now.

A gust of wind rushes over us as a semi passes, and I shiver at the chill that rolls up my spine.

I band my arms tighter around Rhett’s waist, the hard planes of his abs evident beneath his flannel jacket.

Molding my body against his, I let his warmth bleed into me.

There's something about him that’s calming, a protectiveness underneath his tough exterior.

Now Nix on the other hand, he's a whole other beast. I’d be a liar if I said my core wasn’t throbbing with desire as he pinned me to the ground, and the hard bulge that pressed into my hip was evidence he was just as affected as I was.

When he made the threat, I debated running again.

The thrill of him chasing me made me feel more alive than I have in a year.

The meds they had me on at Briarwood numbed me past the point of function.

My thoughts were jumbled and my body didn’t feel like mine any more than it did that night with Shawn.

I felt like I was on autopilot, floating through the days in a fog.

I wasn't me , and I hated every moment of it.

Why should someone else's mistakes strip me of my personality?

It was hard to stop the pills. Not because I couldn’t function without them, but because they watched us take them.

Nurses made us stick out our tongues, checking the inside of our cheeks and beneath our tongues.

But after a few attempts, I figured out how to dry swallow and let them sit at the back of my throat.

Getting them back out was the next challenge, and I damn near choked myself in the process.

After days of silently coughing and digging my fingers around, I finally got the knack of it.

I’m pretty sure I did away with whatever gag reflex I had in the process.

Some lucky guy will appreciate that skill one of these days.

The road starts to curve, Rhett's body gently leaning to the right as he maneuvers along it effortlessly.

My heart surges to my throat, body going rigid on instinct and wanting to fight the way he and the bike tilt.

Sensing my panic, his gloved hand reaches up and gives mine a squeeze.

Drawing in a deep breath, I go slack, letting myself follow his lead.

The long bend in the road comes to an end, and I let out a sigh as the bike and the road straighten.

With a pat on the knee, his hand settles there, like it’s his way of reassuring me further.

It’s a seemingly innocent gesture, but it sends a rush of heat coursing through my system that stays with me the rest of the ride.

In my peripheral I see Nix pointing, swiveling my head to follow his finger. Trees blur past, thinning out as a flickering street light and a faded sign that reads 'Cedar Point Motel' comes into view.

I’ve never been so excited to see a crappy motel in my life. God, I can't fucking wait to take a hot shower without supervision or a time limit. It really is the small things that you miss the most.

Pulling into the large parking lot, the bikes roll to a stop, the guys tip-toeing them backwards into a parking spot.

"Careful gettin' down, the exhaust will be real hot," Rhett warns as he kicks out the stand and his boots land flat on the cracked asphalt.

Reluctantly, I relinquish my grip, arching my back as I sit up straight.

I was oddly comfortable curled up against Rhett.

Guess motorcycle rides aren’t so bad after all .

My legs are still thrumming from all the vibrations, making me unsteady as I climb off and stretch my arms above my head, stumbling a step in the ridiculous rubber boots.

“Careful, little killer. Wouldn’t wanna smash that pretty face of yours on the pavement,” Nix chuckles as he watches me with amusement.

“Still wanna smash yours with my fist,” I reply, whipping around with a feral grin playing at my lips.

Rhett throws his head back on an exasperated sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I'll go get us a room. Think you two can manage to go to the truck stop without killing each other?" he asks, pulling a small duffle from his saddlebag.