Page 80 of Better Run
I sit back in the truck, drumming the steering wheel. My dick gets hard thinking about the ways I’m going to punish her. I’ve been unbearably horny. Jacking off for the past six months just barely takes the edge off. I need to bury myself in her and make her scream. Make tears fall from those pretty eyes. Watch her bleed. Remind her she’s ours, and we’re the only ones that will ever satisfy her again. At the same time, I need to run my fingers through her hair and breathe her in. Listen to how her days have been without us. Listen to anything she wants to talk about. In the last six months I realized that something happened between us. I...care about her. Something I never thought I’d be capable of feeling for anyone except Jayden. I rub my chest.
Just the thought makes me want to kill the fucker who had his hands all over her last night. I know he didn’t get anywhere past a kiss. We beat that truth out of him. I grip the wheel so hard that my fingers turn white. I should have killed him anyway.
We’re parked on the side of the road, about a mile from the house. Jayden lights up a cigarette, takes a puff, and offers it to me. I take it to get my leg to stop bouncing.
“Let’s just go get her.” He lights up another. “Waited long enough to play.”
“It’ll flush her out. Just wait.”
I want to glare at him. These days have been the longest of my life. We slowed our pace for a few months and spent that time leaning into the suck of our pasts. Once I got out of that first two-week hell, I was hit with horrifying clarity that I wasn’t ready to be a dad. Neither of us was, and we almost had been. Jayden spent a lot of time alone. I didn’t ask what he was doing, but I suspected the same as me — soul searching.
But we never stopped looking for Jo. I looked every single day for her. Checking police reports, electric bills, traffic tickets, anything we could think of. And just a few days ago, our smart, opportunistic,aggravatingthing made a fatal mistake.
One of her images popped up from a dating site of all things. The thought makes rage and laughter flit through my chest. The ballsy minx didn’t use her real name, but she did use an old picture she’d posted on her real Facebook. I further confirmed it was her by searching for her fake name. A bunch of videos about her making food from various cultures flooded my feed. Seeing her face again soothed some deep part of me. From there, it wasn’t hard for us to find her location, sitting right under our noses—so close to where we were that first two weeks.
It was almost like she wanted to be found.
Because she does.
She’s going to pay. She’s going to pay big time.
“I don’t like this.” I blow smoke out the window and flip my knife around my fingers.
“It’ll work.” Jayden leans back. “If there is one thing our kitten does best, it’s run.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Mary Jo
As the sun gets low in the sky, I sneak out the back door. I swing my backpack with water and a change of clothes over my shoulder. The August heat instantly wraps me up. I’ve been thinking all day about running.
I feel bad for leaving Rosemary and Carissa, but I don’t want to get them involved. I almost texted Carissa a few times today, but despite any of my warnings, she would have come roaring down here with guns, and I can’t get her hurt.
I don’t go to the barn to get my or Rosemary’s car. They’ve probably staked it out. Two dangerous shadows lurking in the dark. The thought makes me shiver.
I jog to the road and go North, towards Carissa’s house. It’s all farmland here, framed with trees and scrub. I’ll be able to hear and see any car that comes before they see me and dodge into the brush. It’s stupid leaving before the sun sets fully, but I couldn't stay any longer. My blood felt like it was on fire, and the warning in my head told me to run before I couldn’t anymore.
Adrenaline runs through my body, making my fingers numb. This is what I’ve been waiting for all six months. That they’d find me. It feels like I’m playing an old game again.
A thrill runs through me. I take a deep breath. I feel alive. The sounds of my shoes on the gravel crunch crisply. The summer-baked grass smell is warm and delicious. I almost can’t believe that any of this is real. Like maybe I’ve finally lost it, and I’m just seeing things now.
I can’t keep a smile off my face. The smile is followed up by a delicious hit of fear. If they find me, they’re going to fuck me up.
I jog until my lungs burn, and I slow. I’ve wondered all day how the fuck they found me. How long have they known I’ve been here? I think about them watching me, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
An engine sounds down the road. I whirl around, scanning the empty road. My heart races. There’s nothing there.
It’s probably just a neighbor. I turn back around and keep going.
The engine gets louder. It sounds like they're flying. I mutter and get to the side of the road, peeking over my shoulder again. Headlights shine in the distance. Looks like a truck. I turn and duck behind a scrubby bush.
The noise gets louder, and I see the truck better.
My stomach drops, and dread courses through me. It can’t be. The truck roars up to where I am and then slams on the brakes, stopping in a cloud of dust.
Maybe they haven’t seen me. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The driver’s door opens, and a deep voice says, “I wouldn’t stop if I were you.”
