The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (9 page)

Scooting my ass up next to the bed, I fish a hand around, digging for my box. My heart beats anxiously and my hand searches frantically for something that’s not there now. Fuck, it was here last night.

Leaning down, I lift up the sheets and look. Stuffed up at the head of the bed between the nightstand and leg of the bed, I find my black duffle and box and my heart stutters to a stop. I think Buck was in here.

Tearing the lid off of the box, I open it and dig around, letting my fingers graze the contents. I jump up and look out the door before I get back to my digging.

Buck must still be outside where I left him. Here’s to hoping he still is. “Buck,” I holler through the house, but come back with nothing. Good.

Sitting back down on the other side of the bed, I get to counting. This has become a thing ... a reassurance of sorts. It’s a balm for my anxiety. When you grow up with nothing, you learn to value the few things you acquire along the way, and that’s exactly what I’m doing; I’m valuing my shit.

“Twenty, thirty, forty,” I whisper under my breath to myself, laying the bills out flat in neat little stacks around me as I count. I have to count it and see it. It’s the only way.

“Darlin’, you done putting...”

The door creeks open and my head snaps up. My heart lands directly in my ass. Scrambling around, I shovel my shit back into the box like a mad woman. I like Buck, but I don’t know him enough to trust him, or even if he would trust me enough to understand.

“The fuck you doin’ over there?”

Son-of-a-bitch.

4 - Budweiser

Buck

A head of black hair and cautious eyes the size of goddamn saucers peek at me from over the edge of the bed. I can’t see her body, but I can tell she’s moving around on the other side. Her shoulders jerk around and shit when she moves.

“The fuck you doin’ over there?” I ask. Is she digging through my shit?

“Uh, just sorting through my clothes,” she answers breathily, and way too quickly. Flicking her brown eyes from me to the door, it almost looks like she’s looking to make a run for it. If she runs, I’m chasing her ass down.

“Lennon?” I cautiously take a step into the room.

Smiling sweetly, she starts chewing on her thumb, watching me closely. “Sorry, I was just looking through my bag. You startled me.” Yeah, not buying her bullshit.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I don’t know, maybe because it looks like you’re going through my shit and I can tell you’re lying through your goddamn teeth.

“Alright,” I say, taking a step back into the hall. I’m not sure if this shit is paranoia or if it’s my trust issues, but I trust Lennon as far as I can throw her.

I leave her alone. She’s here and she’s already had access to my shit while I’m gone. Lilly trusted her enough to send her here, and Dan trusted her enough to bring her around. Figure there isn’t much I can do about it now, so I talk myself down. I’m too damn paranoid.

“Gotta make a few calls,” I tell her, leaving her in the room alone to do whatever the fuck it is she’s doing. I need to go check to see if she did what I asked her to do.

Walking past the bathroom door, I knock on my way by. She moved on to the bathroom about fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m heading out.” I don’t wait for a response. I’ve got shit to do. She can spend all day curling her hair, fucking with her make-up, shaving her legs, or digging through my cabinets, but I got places to be. Got no time to sit around as she plays Inspector Gadget in there.

After I found the twitchy little broad in my room, I went out to the shop to get some shit together for this weekend. There isn’t shit in my house worth stealing anyways, so whatever it is she’s looking for, she isn’t gonna find it.

The door whines when she throws it open. “Wait.” A little pair of feet come stomping after me. Turning around, I can’t help my jaw from hitting the floor. I think the thing cracks when it meets the hardwood.

“The fuck you wearin? I can see your pussy through your shorts.” I start waving at her whole damn body. Her eyes meet the ceiling, like she’s trying to control what she’s going to say.

“I look fine.” Yeah, too damn fine.

“So, can I come with you?”

“What?” Fuck no. I start trying to come up with reasons as to why she can’t come with me, but I got nothing.

“I wanna come with you,” Lennon says defiantly.

“Why?” I can’t stop myself from looking at her tiny white tank top with an eagle stretched across her tits. Covering her ass is a piece of pointless denim, covered in patches of fabric sewed onto them. The American flag, a Budweiser tee, and tie-dyed fabric is plastered across her ass. On her feet are a pair of beat up Chucks, and no broad has ever looked any fucking better.

“I don’t want to sit here by myself,” she says, touching my arm.

“So.”

“So, I wanna hang out with you.” She’s acting like she likes me, and that shit makes me wonder what her fucking game is. There’s no reason for her to like me.

“Yeah, sure you do.”

“No, really.” Not believing that shit, but I’m not going to stand here arguing with her about it either.

“Can’t wear that on the bike, babe.” I motion at her barely there outfit. That outfit is a disaster waiting to happen.

“Yes I can. I did when you brought me here,” she reasons. Fuck it. If she falls off and hits the road, there won’t be shit left for skin.

“Darlin’, you ever hear of road rash? It’s pretty goddamn painful.” I can attest to it. A big fucking scar on my thigh proves that story.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You burn or cut yourself on the bike, I don’t wanna hear about.” Rolling her eyes, she shoves past me towards the door, digging her pointy ass elbow into my gut as she passes. Man, isn’t she lovely? 

“Let’s roll, Sasquatch.”

“You haven’t killed her yet?” Rock laughs and congratulates me, slapping me on the back when I walk up next to him out in the garage. No, I haven’t, at least not yet. 

“Nah.” She’s too pretty to fucking kill, but I’m not above duct tape and a little rope to shut her ass up if she needs it.

We both look over at Lennon, who’s walking around the shop, poking around the tool benches and broken down bikes, touching everything within arm’s reach. Picking up a headlight off a bike, she turns it over in her hands, studying it.

“She’s gettin’ pretty handsy there, brother.” Rock nods over at her. He doesn’t have to tell me, I live with the chick. Lennon likes to touch shit that doesn’t belong to her.

“You know the rules, babe?” I ask her. Obviously not, because she’s touching everything worth touching.

She looks over at me and frowns. “What rules?”

“The no touching rule.” She snorts, not buying what I’m selling. She finds that shit funny, does she?

“Does that go for all the females around the place?” she smarts, throwing a hand towards Tandy, who’s practically skipping after Dan, topless.

“Only the important shit like bikes fall under that rule, babe,” I tell her. The women are all up for grabs as long as they’re down. Well, everyone aside from Lennon. No one touches her.

With her eyes full of fire, she pushes. Taking a few steps back towards the black custom bike, she stops, grins, and sets her ass on the seat, making herself right at home.

“So, you mean no touching shit like this?” she asks sweetly, running her hands over the handlebars.

“Yeah, darlin’, I mean shit like that.” But Lennon ignores me and keeps touching.

“Is this your bike?” Turning her attention to Rock, she licks her lips and carries on with that sweet voiced bullshit.

“Babe,” he mutters, shaking his head. He’s clearly not sure what to say to her. His eyes are practically bugging out of his head when she leans over the bike, giving him a great ass shot.

“You mind?” His silence is all the answer she needs. She climbs on and straddles the bike.

Turning to me, he shakes his head and frowns. “Good luck, brother.” Yeah, I’m gonna need it.

Looking back over at Lennon, she’s smiling like she won the fucking lottery. Sneaky bitch.

“Girl, you can keep your ass on my bike, but if you scratch it, I ain’t gonna be happy with you.” Rock adds before walking off, shaking his head.

“I’ll take good care of her, Rock,” she calls after him, beaming. 

“You’re evil.” I tell her.

“You love it.”

Not so sure about that.

“Look at this” is the game we’re playing now. First it was the touching game, and now it’s the looking game.

Sitting on the workbench in the shop, Lennon’s legs are swinging and the computer is in her lap. She is so fucking lost in the Internet that she’s not paying anyone any attention. You’d think she’d never seen a computer before. Not sure what’s worse, her questions or her fucking insistence that I, “Oh my God, look at this.” I want to tell her to, “Oh my God, shut the fuck up,” but I don’t. Something about it just seems mean.

I handed her that little black box two hours ago and told her to keep her ass on the worktop and out of my way. I figured it would at least keep her hands off my shit. So far, she’s being good. Her ass is still on the worktop.

But what she hasn’t done is shut the fuck up. She keeps pulling me away from what I’m doing with each, “Buck, look at this” or “Buck, check this out.” It’s always some stupid fucking thing she’s gotta show me immediately. I’ve watched videos of animals doing stupid shit, looked at pictures of places she wants to go, things she wants to buy, and heard songs she loves.

What I can’t fucking help is how goddamn hot she is while doing all this annoying shit. It’s fucking irritating. Kicking her feet, smiling, laughing. I wanna drive a pickaxe into my fucking ear and fuck her goddamn brains out right there on that work bench.

This shit is shit I do not need.

I don’t need the sweet, the cute, the funny, and especially the fucking sexy. All that shit is a pretty package, wrapped up in a crazy bow. Been there, done that, and got fucked in the end. I’m not looking for a repeat. 

This is Dan’s fault. “Here, watch the pretty little annoying girl,” he said. “Keep her safe, fed, entertained, and with you all the goddamn time.” Fucking Dan.

I’m so fucked.

With my head under the hood of a truck; flashlight in one hand, a wrench in the other, I hear, “Buck, I wanna go into town.” What I want is for Lennon to find something to do, other than ask me a million questions.

“Not going into town right now.” I mutter from under the propped up hood. Jesus, I can already see her batting her eyelashes at me and shit.

“Please.”

“No.”

Feet meet the gravel floor of the shop and I pull my head from under the hood to see Lennon walking off, her ass swaying back and forth as she goes. “Your ass is supposed to be on that bench,” I holler after her. She just waves me off, dismissing me.

“Lennon?” I try again, but it’s no use. She’s not stopping and I don’t really care.

“You’re an asshole, Buck.” That’s true. Well, now maybe I can get some shit done.

“Later, darlin’.” How much trouble can she get into around here anyways? The brothers will keep an eye on the dark-haired devil.