Page 8 of Run Little Killer
Heavy footfalls sound behind me, the loud crunch of gravel beneath boots getting closer telling me that Nix is following. And even though Iknowit’s him, my pulse still kicks up a notch, fight or flight instincts kicking in. That one night managed to snake its way deep into my psyche, keeping me a stone’s throw from the edge.
"Hey!" Rhett shouts, startling me into turning around. Nix pauses, too, glancing back at his friend. Rhett smirks at Nix as he points a finger in my direction. "Remember to keep that bitch on a leash."
With a shake of his head, Nix raises his middle finger and Rhett chuckles, shifting the strap of his bag on his shoulder before he disappears through the door into the motel lobby.
Nix falls into step beside me, a tense silence settling between us as we continue across the lot toward the truck stop. He’s just a little shorter than Rhett, leaner too, but equally as easy on the eyes. And while Rhett has this calming aura about him, Nix does not. I catch him eyeing me from his peripheral more than once, and part of me wishes I had kept that scalpel for a little extra protection. But then there’s the other part, the one that’s excited by the way he looks at me. The part that wonders how deep his untamed beast is buried. How much I can taunt him before he finally snaps.
"Go grab some clean clothes," Nix directs, tipping his head to a section of clothing displayed by the souvenirs as we step into the convenience store.
"Why?" I ask, moving out of the way of a burly truck driver.
"Seriously?" he scoffs, eyes flickering up and down my form. "You're covered in blood, littlekiller."
Oh yeah.
I absentmindedly roll my bottom lip between my teeth as I glance down, assessing the damage. Chad's blood has dried to a deep crimson color, permanently staining my shirt and flaking from my skin. Somehow, I’d managed to dissociate, forget about how I ended up on the side of the road in the first place.
... maybe Iamcrazy.
My teeth sink into the soft skin of my cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth as a wave of anger washes over me.No. I'm not crazy. I'm not exactly a shining example of innocence, but Chad had it fucking coming. Just like Shawn and Natalie do.
I'mnotfuckingcrazy.
I mean, unhinged, maybe, but they made me this way.
"Is it just your feet that are cut up?" Nix questions, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Uh, yeah," I murmur as I pad toward the clothing display. Shot glasses and weird ceramic angels line the shelves next to terribly tacky t-shirts with eagles or wolves… and don't even get me started on the absurd amount of tye-dye items. Sifting through the stacks, I settle on the least offensive thing to my eyes: a sweatshirt with 'Pennsylvania' in big letters across the chest. The pants all seem to have something written on the ass–who the fuck designs this shit anyway?– and after an extensive dig, I manage to find a pair of plain black leggings and basic white sneakers before returning to Nix.
"Ready," I say as I approach him.
"About damn time," he grumbles. A bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit are in his arms, as he reaches into a cooler for a liter of Coke.
I start to open my mouth, ready for another verbal sparring match, but he's already heading towards thecashier.Whatever, his game of hot and cold doesn’t bother me. I'm like a fucking possum, all non-threatening until you back me into a corner and force a reaction.
Emptying his hands on the counter, he reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, and I freeze. I don’t have any money.
What the hell was I thinking coming here?I was so focused on getting out of Briarwood and getting my revenge, I never consideredhow.
Panic tightens my chest, eyes darting towards the door as I contemplate dropping everything and running. But before I can do that, Nix grabs the clothes from my hands and gives them to the cashier, footing the bill. I murmur a thanks as the cashier bags them up and counts back his change.
The plastic sacks swing between us as we head back toward the motel, my mind still turning over how I’ll get back to Englewood as we return to Rhett waiting by the parked bikes.
"Room fourteen." Rhett hooks a thumb over his shoulder to a worn red door with tarnished gold numbers screwed to it.
"Let me grab my bag, and we'll be in," Nix replies, setting the sacks on the ground as he moves toward his bike.
Rhett grunts in agreement, pulling his phone from his pocket as he stalks towards the room.
Nix pulls a duffle from his saddle bag as I bend at the waist, leaning down to grab the plastic bags. “So,” he starts, slinging the strap onto his shoulder. His eyes linger on my stained fingers as he continues. "Whose blood is it?"
"Not mine," I shrug as I straighten, turning on a heel and following after Rhett.
4
RHETT
Thank fuck it seems that things finally have calmed down between those two, but I know better than to believe it'll be a peaceful night.
