Chapter 9
NOAH
Maybe I should crawl back into the backseat. I should change into the clothes Netty threw in the bag for me.
But damn… I’m so fucking tired.
How long has it been since I slept? I try to calculate the time in my head, but all the time runs together since I ran out of that prison.
That in and of itself feels like a lifetime ago.
I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. I can feel Rue watching me, worrying over my physical health like she actually gives a shit. And I mean, maybe she does—, but I don’t miss the guilt underneath it all.
I would feel it too, if I were her.
“You could probably get more comfortable if you moved to the backseat,” Rue’s voice is right on cue as the drowsiness starts to take over.
I shut my eyes and ignore her.
“At least lean the seat back.”
My jaw clenches, and I slip my hand down to the side of the seat, easing it back. I open my eyes enough to catch sight of Rue, who’s not even looking at me anymore. Her eyes are focused on the road, dark circles forming beneath them.
She needs sleep just as much as I do.
And the thought kicks off something protective in my body. I sit up in the seat, and then peer out the window. I take in the rolling hills, dotted with trees.
“How long have we been driving?”
She breathes out, her eyes shifting to the clock. “Maybe three hours? I’m going to have to get gas soon.” Her tone is oozing with exhaustion.
“We need to sleep,” I say, running my good hand over my face. “Let’s get fuel at the next station, and then find a place to pull off.”
She eyes me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You wanna run out of gas and walk instead?”
Rue glares at me. “I don’t think we should stop moving. We’re not far enough away yet. We don’t have many miles between them and us.”
There’s never going to be enough miles between them and us. They’re always going to be around the corner. But I don’t drop that bomb on her.
“We’ll stop and get fuel, then see how you’re feeling.”
She furrows her brows at me. “I feel fine?”
“You look exhausted.” The words come out softer than I intend, and Rue’s expression reflects that. She’s so fucking desperate to make it up to me, it’s almost endearing. “We can’t think straight if we’re sleep deprived.”
“Right,” she nods, and then reaches for the radio. “We’ll stop at the next gas station.” Rue presses the power button and then turns it up, overriding whatever potential conversation might have transpired between us.
I don’t understand it, but I don’t press.
I just close my eyes and listen to the soft hum of some shitty pop song I don’t recognize. But as soon as the tune comes to an end, the news breaks through.
“Things you need to know this morning,” the radio host’s deep voice booms through the car. “The missing diver in the search for escaped inmate, Thomas Peterson, has been located safe and sound.”
“That’s a real blessing,” a woman’s voice kicks in. “I’ve been following the escape since it was reported. It’s really something else to think a convicted murderer was able to just walk out like that. Don’t you think, Rob?”
“I think he was smart, Cherry,” Rob says.
“Just not smart enough to avoid that plunge into Moccasin Lake,” Cherry laughs lightly, as if they’re not discussing a real human fucking being.
Which makes sense, because I’m not an actual human being to these people.
I’m inmate #MF95489. A subspecies. An animal with a label that will damn me for the rest of my life.
But at least I deserve it. My mind flashes with the image of the man I shoved off the bluff, thudding down the dark waters below.
And I don’t feel a single pang of guilt for it. I’m just living up to my label.
“Do you think they’ll find the body, Rob?” Cherry’s voice interrupts my thoughts, dragging me back to the present.
“Maybe. If it’s there to be found.”
Rue lets out an incoherent noise, and I glance over at her. She’s got the same distant look on her face as earlier, but there’s a tick in her jaw.
“It’s all just speculation,” Cherry laughs, her voice grating in my ear. “But I do think they should expand the search beyond the banks of the lake. If not solely for the sake of the community’s peace of mind. A man who has killed once will kill again.”
Rue stabs a finger into the radio, silencing the conversation and muttering something I miss under her breath.
“Conflict of conscience?” I tilt my head at her. “Or was Cherry as insufferable to you as she was to me?”
Rue whips her head in my direction. “They just don’t know what they’re talking about.”
I chuckle, closing my eyes once more. “No one ever does.”
“Well, they think they do.” Her voice is tense, just as the car dings with a notification. “Low fuel,” she breathes out, glancing over to me. “I think it would be best if you got in the backseat while I do this. Your face is going to be all over the news right now.”
“I know.” I give her a nod, and then sit the seat upright again. So much for that nap. I unbuckle and toss the black duffle from my lap to the backseat on the opposite side of Bullet.
The dog gives me a look as I climb over the console, my body stiff and too fucking large to fit through the small space. My fingers brush some of Rue’s hair by accident, the soft strands against my palm, and the scent of her causes me to catch my breath.
I want nothing more than to pull over and drag her back here with me.
But I ignore the urge and plop down on the seat, reaching for the bag. I pull out a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, catching Rue watching me in the rearview.
And my dick gets hard at those tantalizing eyes, despite the pure exhaustion I feel.
Still, I shift my focus to peeling off the still-damp layers of clothes. I had hoped to find some sort of shower before I did this, but it is what it is. Carefully, I pull my shirt over my head, the air feeling nice against my chest.
Rue glances back again, just as I run my fingers along my pecs, rubbing the sore muscles there. Her cheeks flush crimson.
And that’s when I go for my jeans.
Her eyes bounce between the mirror and the road as I push the damp, sticky denim from my hips. My cock bounces free, and she clears her throat, quickly looking away.
I wish she’d do something about this.
But I guess it’s better she doesn’t. Her body could easily become an addiction.
I peel off my socks and toss the soiled clothes into the back cargo space. I have no choice but to go commando, and so I pull on the new jeans, relieved they’re a little large, not too tight. I dig through the bag, find a pair of socks, slide them on, and then finish with the T-shirt.
“Feel better?” Her voice falters as she meets my gaze.
“Yep.” I mean, my cock is still throbbing, but the dry clothes make up for the blue balls. I guess. “You probably need to change, too.” I gesture to her mud-stained sweater.
“It’s dry,” she answers me, her fingers curling around the material. “I think it’ll be okay.”
“It’s more noticeable,” I reason, amused at the annoyance on her face.
“Then I’ll wear my jacket,” she shoots back, signaling and taking an exit off the Interstate. “You need to lie low back there. This is a good place to get gas. We need to beat the early morning work rush.”
“There’ll be cameras,” I think aloud, reaching for the throw blanket I used earlier. As I do, I notice the shoebox with all the letters I sent her—mostly unopened, mixed with other mail sent to her.
She was telling the truth about not getting them.
I guess that’s one less reason to hate her.
… Too bad there are still so many more.