Page 4 of Run Little Killer
As soon as I lean forward to peer inside, I jerk back in surprise.Shit, laying in the back of the truck is a girl in what looks to be a blood-stained sweatshirt.I swear to god if this is a dead body, I will fucking lose it.I'mnotin the mood to deal with that shit tonight.
"Hey!" I say louder, slapping her foot.
"Fuck off!" she screams as she starts to thrash around, kicking me straight in the sack.
"Goddamn it!" I spit, my stomach churning as I double over in pain.This is exactly why it doesn't pay to be a damn good samaritan.
The chick is still fucking screaming when Rhett stalks up and darts a glance in my direction. Gritting my teeth, I cup my balls with one hand and motion to him with the other. "Shut her up!"
The last thing we need is someone to hear this shit and come blow it out of proportion.
Rhett lunges forward, snatching her by the ankle and yanking her towards him. Covering her mouth with his other hand, he holds her against him, dipping his head lower to tell her we won't hurt her. He keeps talking softly to her, trying to get her to calm down, while my hands come to rest on my thighs and I take a few more deep breaths, willing my balls to drop for the second time.
After a minute or two, I straighten, adjusting myself as I close in on the wild-eyed brunette in Rhett’s grip. "We all good?" I ask, lifting a brow in his direction.
"Yeah," he answers, lowering his hand from the girl’s mouth and shooting her a wink as he lowers his bandana and smiles. "Aren't we, darlin'?"
A little puff of air parts her lips as she leans her head back against his chest and studies his face. Rhett’s got a smile smooth enough to convince a nun to blow him, and that’s all it seems to take for this girl, too. Slowly, she nods her head in compliance as her rigid posture softens. With a sigh, she runs a hand through her chestnut waves and turns to look at me with a set of eyes unlike any I've ever seen. Steely gray irises lock onto mine, both strikingly unique and hauntingly beautiful.
Placing a hand on the tailgate, I lean in closer, lips curling up in a smile as I ask, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Her throat bobs with a harsh swallow as she tugs the crimson splattered cuffs of her gray crewneck down over her hands, darting a nervous glance between the two of us.
“Lennon,” she offers as she shifts her position, putting distance between her and Rhett.
I drag the ball of my tongue ring across the back of my teeth, humming in response as I take in her delicate features. She’s all soft curves and creamy skin except for a scar running up her cheek and into her hairline. A faint blush creeps across her cheeks the longer I stare. She pins her bottom lip between her teeth, and I can’t help but wonder what she's doing out here in this state all by herself
She’s a pretty little thing, no doubts there, and the way she gnaws on her pouty lower lip only makes my dick perk up in interest.
“Well, Lennon, I’m Nix and this is Rhett,” I say, hooking my thumb in his direction.
“A real pleasure,” she mutters.
I ignore her attitude and ask, “Having engine troubles, Lennon?”
“Uh,” she averts her eyes, scooching closer to the edge of the tailgate. “Something like that.”
My eyes track her movement, gaze sweeping over her form, lingering on her red-tinged fingers as they curl around the edge of the tailgate. The more blood I notice on her, the more I get the feeling that something isn’t right.
"So,” Rhett cocks his head, folding his arms across his flannel-clad chest. “Why are you back here?" He’s just as suspicious about this situation as I am.
"Well, this has been fun and all, but I should get going," she sighs, her knuckles whitening as her grip tightens on the lip of the tailgate. She leans forward, feet stretching towards the pavement.
Wrong answer.
I surge towards her, erasing the distance between us before she can move another inch. “Don’t even think about it,” I warn, caging her in with my arms.
Lennon sucks in a gasp, her body stiffening as I fully invade her space. She tilts her head to the side, eyes locking onto mine. Her full lips curve into the faintest of smiles as she peers up at me through her thick, dark lashes. "You're in my way."
Dropping my head, I can’t help but chuckle. Aside from bike bunnies and other members, most people seem scared shitless of me and especially of the six foot five fuck beside me. Rhett’s the Sergeant at Arms, the club president's right-hand man, controller of chaos, and by a questionable choice of his own, my keeper turned brother. Guys always give us a wide berth when we pass, women clutching their purses tightly. But aside from the initial shock of us confronting her, this girl seems more annoyed by our presence than anything.
"Why ya in such a hurry, little one?" I murmur into the shell of her ear.
"Look, I'm just trying to get home," she grumbles, pressing her palm against the center of my chest. "I'm sure you’re both perfect gentlemen, but I've got this under control."
Lennon's not strong enough to move me, but I let her little shove take me back a step as she slides off the tailgate, wincing when her bare feet land on the rough surface of the road’s unfinished shoulder.
"And where's home?" Rhett asks, swiping a hand over his chin as he watches her with a keen eye.
