The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (8 page)

“Jesus, Buck!”

I’m not going to be able to do this shit. This broad is already worming her way into my life, throwing everything off balance, fucking with my sleep, and now she’s becoming a distraction. I should never have taken her anywhere. I need to keep my distance with her. I thought I was doing her a favor by taking her in, even going as far as taking her to the river to make her happy, but I’m seeing she’s starting to get into my head, and I can’t have that shit.

“You need to take your ass to bed.” Cocking her head, she stares at me with a frown. “You deaf, babe?” Lennon needs to go. She’s not making it any easier when she bites her lip nervously. Fucking Jesus.

“What?”

“Go back to bed, now.” Before I get up and take your ass back to bed myself. Sighing, she turns on her heels and leaves.

“Night, darlin’.” Thank fuck.

“Fuck you,” she mutters around a yawn halfway down the hall. Yeah, that’s what I’m tryin’ to avoid. 

For the fourth time this week, I’ve come home and found the frolicky little freak outside, deep in the woods with her ass planted in the dirt and toes shoved deep in the grass with no shoes, and no coat. No idea what she’s always doing out there, but she seems to fucking love it, so I let it be. Whatever keeps her out of my line of sight and out of my head works for me.

This is becoming a thing, like some sort of routine we’ve got going. I come home and find her out here with Bill, doing nothing. She’s been here a week—seven days—and it’s pretty fucking obvious this broad is a hippy, down to her soul. She’s always seems to have the sweetest, happiest smile on her face.

“How long you been out here this time?” I ask as I take in the tattered, torn, dog-eared book. “Lennon?”

“A while.”

“It’s getting late, darlin’. Think it’s time you brought your ass inside.” It’s starting to cool down and in nothing but a tank top and shorts, she might freeze to death out here.

“Okay.” She rolls her eyes, something she always seems to do with me, and follows me inside.

Sitting on the couch drinking a beer, I wait for Lennon to do whatever the hell it is she’s doing in the bathroom. Heard the shower turn off twenty minutes ago, and now I’m waiting on her. I’m trying to be nice and wait for her to eat, but if she doesn’t hurry the hell up, I’m eating without her.

Running a hand through my messy mop, I lean into the couch. This shit is starting to feel a fuck of a lot like playing house. I work all day, Lennon does whatever the fuck she does all day, I come home, she cooks, we eat. We spend time around each other, then we go to bed. The only fucking difference is my ass is sleeping on the couch instead of in my bed with her.

“You didn’t want me to cook?” She hollers through the door at me. One good thing about having a bitch in your house? The home cooked meals. I’ve missed that shit. Might just keep Lennon here for her cooking skills alone.

“Nah, got food.” But tonight I figured I’d give her a break. I’m a master at ordering pizza.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opens and out walks Lennon. She’s wearing some matching, tight as fuck, thermal shirt and bottoms. That shit shows every fucking curve of her body. Staring at her, I watch as she twists her mess of wet black hair up and around into a knot on her head.

“Yeah?” she asks when she catches me staring.

“Nothing.” I shift and turn back to the TV. Fuck, she’s hot.

Getting comfortable on the couch, she shifts and moves until she finds a comfy spot before facing me. “Mmm, pizza.” Leaning towards me, she snatches the half-eaten piece of pizza from my hands and pops it into her mouth.

“Help yourself.” I mutter as I get up to get the pizza box.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she sings and grins happily at me. She’s a tyrant.

I’m having a fuck of a time concentrating on my food when Lennon’s wearing a white shirt and no fucking bra. Not to mention how she’s moaning over the pizza like it’s the best fucking thing she’s ever put in her mouth, and all I can think of is I’ve got something much better to put in there. 

“Good?” I ask, focusing on my beer. I’m trying to be a nice guy and not stare directly at her tits.

“So good,” she sighs.

Just like my life, my bed, and my pizza, Lennon’s taken over my remote. Not that I’m watching the shit anyway. No, I’m watching Lennon watch TV while she eats. She’s watching Jeopardy, yelling out the answers. So far she’s nine out of ten.

“You go to college or something?”

“Nope,” she mumbles around a huge bite. She doesn’t even bother to look at me when she answers.

“How the hell do you know all this shit then?” Shrugging her shoulders, she continues to stare at the TV. I can’t figure this broad out. “Straight A student?” I know nothing about her, and for some damn reason, I’d kinda like to know something other than her name.

“I didn’t make it past tenth.” Her eyes drop and she frowns. That surprises the fuck out of me. She’s uneducated?

“No shit?” I even made it to graduation, and I don’t know half the shit she’s spouting off.

“No shit. I had a sort of colorful childhood. School wasn’t a priority.” What does that even mean?

“Oh yeah? Care to elaborate?” I’m digging for anything I can get about her. Why do I do this to myself?

Lennon

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to Buck when he asks me questions about myself. Is it because he’s genuinely curious, or is he just being friendly? Is he looking for reason to hate me? Why do I even care? Maybe he’s trying to make the best of an awkward situation by being friendly and making conversation. I will admit, I do appreciate it.

I like Buck. I don’t know him, but I feel like I do. He’s easy going and laid back, which makes me feel comfortable and content around him. I feel like I can just be me. Anyone you can be yourself around is someone you want around.

“A colorful childhood?”

“It was unstable.” At fucking best. There was too much going on, too much moving around, to bother with school. Education was a luxury. It was the least of my worries when I could be doing all kinds of other shit to make money during those hours that would’ve been spent in class learning. I was lucky that they let me make it to the ninth grade. School just wasn’t a priority for me.

“So how’d you get so goddamn smart?” He asks, looking between the TV and me. That’s easy.

“Books ... lots and lots of books.” A lot of moving around equals a lot of free time spent in the back of a car or the bed of a truck, meaning plenty of time to read. I read anything I could get my hands on.

“Books,” he repeats thoughtfully. Yeah, books of all kinds. Books from libraries from all of the country.

Truthfully, those libraries are where this whole shit-storm started, where things started to unravel. Because of my lifestyle, I had a lot of unreturned library books. I’m not proud of it. A fourteen-year-old with boxes of stolen library books is where I started the slide down my slippery slope.

“Books,” I confirm. Books were my salvation, my saving grace, my companion, and my slow progression into the world of crime.

“Huh,” he muses, and that’s the end of that. Buck’s back to being uninterested and neutral. Staring at the TV, he stops talking and goes back to drinking his beer and eating his pizza. It sucks. As much as I don’t want to talk about me, I do. Deep down I want to talk to someone about anything really, but its obvious Buck is not going to be that person. 

“I’m going to bed,” I tell him. With his beer bottle at his lips, he looks up at me and frowns. He almost looks ... disappointed? Narrowing his eyes, he seems to think about it for a moment before grunting, “Night.”

“Night, Buck.”

Soft rays peek through the tall Pine trees throwing shadows on the wood deck at my feet the next afternoon. The light rustle of trees in the wind fights to be heard over the rush of the river. It’s a forest musical.

Leaning my back against the cedar siding of the house, I stretch my legs out in front of me. My toes meet the end of the wood deck, finding the soft warm rays casting there, instantly heating them up.

It’s heaven here. There’s nothing up here but wilderness. No humans, no homes, no stores, nothing. I know why Buck picked this spot.

I’ve spent the last week up here alone, most of the time. Eight days with a lot of time on my hands. I’m okay with it though. I’ve wandered, I’ve read, I’ve napped, and I’ve relaxed.

I woke up alone. The house was empty and void of any trace of Buck. I have no idea where he went and when he’ll be back. It’s nothing new. I’m always alone, even when he’s here.

One hour and countless chapters later, the growl of engines cut through the quiet. Bill jumps off the deck, barking and howling down the driveway. What the hell? Sitting up, I crane my neck to see a white van coming through the trees, crawling up the gravel road towards me.

I instantly feel sick. Whipping my head from side to side, I start to plan my escape. My nerves shoot through the roof and my heart is in my throat. Taking a few steps back towards the door, the roar of bikes drown out the van.

Staring wide-eyed at the driveway, I watch the van drive on by, past the shop and disappear into the woods with two bikes on its tail. Buck rolls to a stop in front of me while the other bike keeps going. It’s definitely not the bike, nor the white van, that has me wide-eyed now. No, it’s the ski mask covering Buck’s face that has me staring. What the shit?

Straddling his bike, Buck stares at me through the small cutout in the ski mask. The growl of the engine is drowning out to soft sounds of the forest, making it a hell of a lot less peaceful than it was three minutes ago. What the hell is going on?

Gesturing to his face, I mouth, “What is that?” Why the hell is he riding around with a damn ski mask on? Cutting the engine, Buck throws his leg over his matte black bike, which is damn near as sexy as he is, and tears the mask up over his face.

“Yo,” he grunts, jerking his chin in a gruff greeting. Twisting my hand in the air, I give a quick wave and throw my own confused “Yo,” back at him.

Bending down, he sticks a hand in the bag on the side of his bike. Digging around in his saddlebag, he rips out a brown paper sack and chucks it at me with no warning. The crumbled bag sails through the air and lands at me feet.

“Nice catch,” he says around a chuckle.

“Never claimed to be a catcher,” I smart back as I bend down to pick the bag up.

Holding the worn-out and wrinkled bag, I stare at Buck in pure confusion. “What is this?” It’s somewhat heavy and solid.

“Take it in. Stick it in the freezer for me.” I just look at him, waiting for an answer.

“What,” he groans, rubbing at his beard. He can’t just chuck a bag at me and tell me to put it in a freezer.

“Please,” he says, this time in a gentler voice. That’s better. By the time I leave here, he’ll at least have some basic manners.

Walking into the house, I have to peek. It’s impossible not to. It’s a bunch of cash, stacked neatly together. My heart tumbles from my chest to my stomach. Where’d he get this? Shit.

Shoving the bag inside of the fridge, I take off down the hall and head into my impromptu bedroom.

Shit. Shit. Shit.