Page 3 of The Highwaymen

“I don't doubt it.”

We fell silent again, each lost in our own thoughts as the miles rolled by. The desert gave way to scrubland, the landscape dotted with the occasional cactus or tumbleweed.

As the first hints of dawn began to lighten the eastern sky, I pulled off at a rest stop. The Proud Mary needed fuel, and frankly, so did I.

I hopped out of the cab and stretched, my muscles stiff from hours behind the wheel. Jamie climbed out the passenger side, his hair adorably mussed from sleep. He'd dozed off a couple hours back, his head lolling against the window.

“I'm gonna hit the head and grab some coffee,” I said, jabbing a thumb toward the small brick building housing the restrooms and vending machines. “You want anything?”

Jamie shook his head. “I'm good. Might grab a smoke, though.”

I nodded and headed off, the gravel crunching beneath my boots.

In the dingy restroom, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to shake off the cobwebs of fatigue. As I looked at my reflection in the spotted mirror, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell I was doing. Picking up some kid young enough to be my son? It wasn't like me. But then again, maybe that's exactly why I did it.

I dried my hands and face on a scratchy paper towel and headed to the coffee station, where I filled a big Styrofoam cup full of the darkest brew I could find. As I stirred in enough sugar to make it palatable, I found my gaze drawn to the window, to the sight of Jamie leaning against the Proud Mary, smoke curling from his lips as he stared out at the lightening sky.

There was something about him, something that tugged at me in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. It wasn't just that he was attractive, though he certainly was that. It was the darkness I sensed in him, the shadows that lurked behind those pretty brown eyes. It called to something in me, something primal and dangerous that I thought I'd left behind a long time ago.

I took a sip of the burnt, bitter coffee and let my mind wander to dangerous places. I pictured my hands around that slender throat,squeezing until the light faded from those captivating eyes. I imagined the way his body would shudder in the throes of death, his eyes rolling back, lips blue, the choked, desperate sounds he’d make.

And damn me to hell, but the thought made my dick twitch in my jeans.

I adjusted myself, grateful for the loose fit of my worn Levi's. It had been too damn long since I'd dirtied my hands, since I'd felt that rush of power that came from holding a life in my grasp and choosing to end it.

Out in the lot, Jamie finished his cigarette and flicked the butt away, the orange ember arcing through the predawn gloom. He turned and caught me watching him through the window, a slow smile spreading across his face. Then he turned and sashayed around to the front of the truck, where I couldn’t see him.

God damn him. Even out of sight, the fucker was making my dick throb. One way or another, I had to have him.

I lit another cigaretteand shoved the lighter in my pocket, never taking my eyes off the old man in the suit. He was bent over the hood of his rental car, sweat gathering on the back of his neck as he furiously texted someone. Something about the guy gave off the air of a lost lamb, someone who was so out of his element, he wasn’t even on the same planet anymore.

I glanced at the plates.You’re far from home, Nebraska. And traveling all alone.

The old man's fingers stumbled over the touchscreen, his brow furrowed in concentration. Poor sap probably didn't even realize the danger he was in. Outhere in the middle of nowhere, a thousand miles from anyone who gave a damn about him. Easy pickings.

I took a long drag on my cigarette, the smoke curling around my face as I exhaled. In my mind's eye, I could see it all play out. I'd wait until he finished his frantic texting and climbed into that shiny rental Buick. Then I'd saunter over casual-like, maybe ask for directions or a light. Get him to roll down the window.

That's when I'd strike. My hand would shoot through the open window, switchblade flicking out from my sleeve. Before he even registered what was happening, I'd jam the blade into the side of his neck, piercing his carotid artery. Bright red blood would spurt out in powerful jets, splattering the beige interior, running in rivulets down his crisp white dress shirt.

His mouth would gape open in shock, eyes bulging. He'd gurgle and spasm, hands scrabbling uselessly at his ruined throat. I'd twist the knife and yank it free, unleashing a fresh geyser. Blood would pool on the car seat, soaking into the upholstery. The coppery scent would fill my nostrils.

God, it would feel so fucking good. It was making my dick hard just thinking about it.

I tore my eyes away from the old man and scanned the rundown truck stop, weighing my options. A quick fuck might take the edge off, let me think straight. The lot lizards usually hung out by the dumpsters behind the bathrooms, trolling for horny truckers, and no truck stop was complete without them. I could probably score a cheap blowjob, work out this insistent hard-on.

A heavyset woman in cutoff shorts and a halter top lingered by the men's room door, eyeing me with disinterest. Normally I wouldn't be desperate enough to stick my dick in whateverwashed up skank was peddling her wares, but the pressure in my balls was getting difficult to ignore.

I was about to push off the wall and head her way, when the door of the rest stop convenience store swung open with a jangle of bells. Stu emerged, a plastic bag dangling from one meaty fist, a cigarette clamped between his teeth. Our eyes met, briefly dancing, before I turned back to stare at the man good and hard.

“See something you like?” Stu asked, coming up beside me. When I turned, he was eyeing me up and down, and he’d definitely noticed the bulge in my shorts.

I snorted. “Not particularly. But you know how it is. A man has needs.”

“That he does.” Stu sucked on his cigarette, staring appreciatively at the tent my dick was making in the shorts.

I smirked and grabbed my cock through my shorts, putting it on full display for him. “I normally charge if you want to watch, but seeing as how you’re giving me a ride…”

He shoved the bag at me. “Get in the damn truck.”

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