Run So Far

by Elizabeth Monvey

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Elizabeth Monvey

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-412-1

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Stephanie Balistreri

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  RUN SO FAR

  Elizabeth Monvey

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  The night air sliced through Kyle’s jacket with ease. He shivered, hunching his shoulders and digging his hands deep into his pockets in an effort to conserve what little body heat he had left. Longingly he thought of the heater in his car, which he’d abandoned a few miles away in a parking lot, wondering if his desperate plan to run had been wise. January in Maryland was always miserable. Rain turned to ice and snow, freezing temperatures without any break between winter storms. Now he was kicking himself for not grabbing his coat … and gloves … and a hat … and a scarf. Hell, the whole damn closet full of ski paraphernalia left behind in his nice, cozy home seemed to mock him.

  The lights of a truck stop appeared down the ramp he walked and relief surged through him, quickening his step. That was what he needed, some breathing space. A moment to clear his head and think things through, figure out if he had the guts to ruin his family.

  What felt like hours later, yet was probably only thirty minutes or so, he pushed into the warmth of the bustling diner and almost collapsed. Turning into a human Popsicle was exhausting and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep. He’d once read a story about a person sitting down at the top of Mt. Everest and slowly freezing to death, and now he completely understood how that could happen. He made a mental note never to go hiking in the Himalayas.

  He sat down at the counter, trying hard to contain his shivering. He wanted to order something hot to drink but his vocal chords needed a moment to thaw out. A waitress hurried over to him with a cup and a carafe of hot coffee.

  “Good Lord, you look frozen,” she said as she sat the mug down in front of him and filled it up.

  He nodded and wrapped his hands around the ceramic.

  “Milk? Sugar?”

  He shook his head no.

  The waitress patted his arm. “You get warm and when you want to order something just give a holler. My name is Alice.”

  He wanted to praise her with gratitude but the shivering had reached its zenith. Little by little warmth replaced the cold in his bones as his body temperature rose. The shivering stopped, allowing him to breathe easy and take a sip of the black coffee. He tried hard not to think about how close he might have come to death.

  Of course, that was still a possibility if his cousin ever caught up with him. He would want that secret to stay silent, and if that meant Kyle had to be buried with it, so be it. Which was why he had run and now sat in a proverbial crossroad of what to do next. He’d seen enough cop shows to know not to use his credit cards or his cell phone and to dump his car, which he’d done. The hundred bucks in his pocket would have to hold him over until all the answers to his questions suddenly appeared.

  Divine intervention, however, was slow in coming.

  “You okay, kid?”

  Kyle jumped and turned to look at the man next to him, who had asked the question. For a moment, Kyle’s breath caught in his throat, but this time not from the cold. The stranger eyed him over the rim of his coffee mug, startling green eyes surrounded by dark lashes, the kind of eyes one could fall in lust with in a hurry. Sharp angled planes gave him a tough look, bold strokes prominently displayed from the too bright fluorescent shining overhead. A short beard angled from mid-cheek to neck while the disheveled hair on his head curled slightly over his coat collar. It softened him out just a little, but only a fraction.

  “Uh,” Kyle said, shutting up to clear his throat. “Yeah. Okay now.”

  “How far did you walk?”

  “Two miles, I think. Give or take a hundred feet or so.”

  The man set his cup down and picked up his fork. “Anyone tell you it’s winter out there?”

  Kyle snorted. “Believe me, I had no plans to brave the weather when I woke up today. Just sorta … happened.”

  The man resumed eating his sunny side up eggs and crisp bacon. Kyle’s stomach rumbled so he signaled to Alice. The waitress hurried over, her pad and pen at the ready for his order.

  “You want some breakfast, sweetie?” she asked.

  “Yes, please. What he’s having.”

  Kyle pointed to the handsome stranger’s plate. Alice wrote it down and winked at him before striding away to place the order.

  “So did your car die?” the man asked.

  “No,” Kyle replied.

  The man’s dark eyebrows drew together. “You walked here deliberately?”

  Kyle shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

  “Isn’t it always? The name is Delaney Vance.”

  He held out his hand and Kyle took it. The first contact sent a tingling jolt up his arm as an unusual awareness coursed over him. Their gazes locked together and for a brief moment, Kyle felt like he was free falling. Disconcerted, he let go of Delaney’s hand and rubbed his palm over his knee, hoping the rough jean material would dissipate the odd sensation.

  “I’m Kyle. Kyle … Smith.”

  One eyebrow shot up as disbelief blanketed his face. “Right. Call me Del.”

  Alice came bustling back and placed a plate of hot food in front of him. Kyle focused on eating because he sure as hell didn’t want to focus on the magnetically handsome man sitting next to him. He had enough problems without adding overwhelming attraction to the mix.

  His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, so he shoveled runny eggs into his mouth. As much as he tried to ignore the big man beside him, his senses seemed acutely aware of every movement he made.

  “So where are you headed?”

  The food in Kyle’s mouth turned to sawdust and he had to force himself to swallow it. Where was he headed? How the fuck did he answer that?

  “I don’t know,” he replied softly.

  “You running away?”

  “Yeah. Guess so.”

  Del nodded thoughtfully. “Can I ask how old you are? Eighteen, nineteen?”

  “Twenty-four,” Kyle said.

  Kyle chuckled at the surprise on Del’s face.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot,” he said. “Sucks right now but I suppose I’ll be glad of my youthful appearance when I’m fifty. You know, I was at a bar once and the bouncer told me that I could call the cops if my license was real.”

  “Did you?”

  “Of course. My uncle—”

  Kyle shut his mouth abruptly. Shit, he was just about to admit to something he shouldn’t.

  “Your uncle what?” Del probed.

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  Thankfully, Del let it go. “Well, considering how old you are, I think you can call it taking a break instead of running away.”

  Kyle snorted and pushed the cooling egg slop around on his plate. “I don’t need a break. I need a plan. Someplace away from here so I can figure out a few things.”

  “I really don’t do hitchhikers.”

  That sentence had a wealth of implication behind it, or so Kyle imagined.

  “I don’t remember asking,” he replied stiffly.

  One side
of Del’s mouth turned up in a half-hearted smile. “After all, how do I know you’re not an ax wielding murderer?”

  Kyle recoiled. He felt all the blood drain from his face. Del instantly lost his smirk and grabbed Kyle’s arm to steady him.

  “I was kidding,” he muttered.

  “I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Kyle replied firmly, his insides suddenly protesting the food as he remembered the events he’d run from. “There’s no way I could.”

  An uneasy silence descended between them, and it wasn’t until Kyle took a deep, steadying breath that Del released his arm.

  “What the fuck are you running from?”

  What could he say? Only the wrong thing, that’s for sure. Until he could properly digest everything that had happened, he couldn’t articulate the nightmare he’d awoken to on this morning’s news.

  “It’s nothing.” He waved his hand dismissively.

  Kyle took another sip of coffee, conscious of the good-looking man beside him.

  “Want to go to Richmond?” Del asked out of the blue.

  Kyle blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “Richmond, Virginia. You need a break and I can take you to Richmond.”

  “I don’t know anyone in Richmond.”

  Del raised a dark sexy eyebrow. “Isn’t that the point?”

  Kyle pushed his plate away and turned to study Del, trying to push down the attraction he felt as well as the man’s handsomeness. “How do I know you aren’t an ax wielding murderer?”

  Del chuckled. “Touché. Guess we just need to trust each other.”

  “If I accept your ride, you mean.”

  “Yep. If you accept it.”

  “And what do I do when I get to Richmond? Twiddle my thumbs?”

  Del shrugged. “You wanted to get away and I’m offering you a way to do that.”

  “Yeah, but, why?”

  “Maybe I want to be a good Samaritan?”

  “Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

  “Are you gonna say yes or no?”

  A dozen reasons to say no rushed into his mind, all the warnings of trusting strangers that had been beaten into his psyche at a young age. But then he remembered that the people he’d been told he could trust, namely his family, had suddenly morphed into dangerous strangers and reminded him that sometimes not all was it appeared to be. He took a deep breath. What would happen when he got to Richmond? He didn’t have a lot of money but maybe his mother wouldn’t mind driving to get him. If she couldn’t, well, he would figure things out when he needed to.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Two

  Del wondered what on earth had possessed him to invite the scrawny kid into his cab. He never, ever, picked up hitchhikers, but there had been something raw, something wounded in the kid’s vivid blue eyes that drew him in, and before he realized what he was saying he had invited the kid aboard.

  He hoped that his impulsive gesture didn’t come back to bite him in the ass later.

  Del unlocked the rig and hoisted himself up effortlessly, watching Kyle out of the corner of his eye. The kid shivered a bit in the thin jacket. It made him wonder just what had made the kid run, ill prepared for the environment. As Kyle sat down, he let out a long admiring whistle as he stared at the sleep-a-way cab area behind the seats, transformed from a regular rig into a mini-home.

  “Wow,” Kyle breathed, impressed.

  Behind the driver’s plush leather reclining seat, a shower and toilet had been added, completely tiled in with a drain reservoir under it. Behind the passenger seat, a tiny kitchen had been built, complete with a sink, microwave, and a hotplate. In the back, was a table with bench seats and a bed above the dining area secured on steel lifts. A flat-screen TV was built into the console on eye level with the bed.

  “This is like your home,” Kyle said. “No wonder you don’t do hitchhikers.”

  “It’s called a sleeper berth,” Del replied. “One thing I can’t really stand is using facilities that are so … public.”

  Kyle nodded. “I get it. I was in a dorm when I was in college and hated it. This is really cool.”

  “A lot of truckers are converting their rigs, especially if they own it. I’m a contractor so I really needed to feel comfortable.”

  “Did you do the design?”

  “I gave my input into what I wanted.”

  He turned on the rig and let it rumble a few minutes to warm up.

  “How far is Richmond?”

  Del studied Kyle for a moment. He wanted to press the issue of why he was running because he had a suspicion that whatever it was had to do with this uncle. But sanity returned, reminding Del that he didn’t know Kyle and at Richmond the two of them would be parting ways. Did he really want to get involved with some type of family dispute?

  Not really.

  “Just under three hours,” Del answered.

  “Thanks,” Kyle murmured. “For letting me crash with you, even if only for a little bit.”

  “S’ok.” Del took a look in his mirrors before shifting the tractor trailer into first gear to start their journey to Virginia.

  “Do you like music?” he asked.

  Kyle shrugged. “Most all, I suppose. Whatever you want is fine.”

  Del turned on the stereo and flipped through the CDs until he found what he wanted.

  “Muse?” Kyle asked him.

  “Surprised?”

  “Yeah,” Kyle admitted with a chuckle. “I guess I thought all truckers listened to Country or, you know, Lynyrd Skynyrd.”

  “Nothing wrong with Skynyrd.”

  “I agree. Come on, Free Bird and Sweet Home Alabama? Pure musical genius.”

  Del shot him a quick, appraising look. “True, but man, that was one unlucky band.”

  “One tragedy after another, but you know, sometimes tragedy brings out the creativity. Look at Rick Allen.”

  It took Del a moment to place the name. “The drummer from Def Leppard?”

  Kyle nodded. “Adversity. But genius.”

  “Twenty-four, eh?”

  “I guess I’m an old soul.”

  They fell into an easy silence. The road thrummed along, vibrating the cab in a peaceful way, the lights from the road calming. Kyle snuggled deeper into the chair.

  “I see why people want to become truckers,” he murmured while yawning at the same time, which caused his words to slur together.

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s something soothing about this.”

  Del shifted as he came behind another truck. “Soothing about what? Driving?”

  “Not just driving,” Kyle tried to explain. “The lights reflecting back at you, the vibration of the cab. The glitter of stars looking down on you. It’s like being in your own world.”

  “It’s sitting on your ass all day, trying not to get bored silly.”

  Kyle laughed. “Yeah, I suppose it’s that too. Better than me, I guess. All I do is ring up CDs and books and stock shelves.”

  “Is that where you got your knowledge of music?”

  “Guilty. Sometimes working nights is so boring all you do is Google the info on bands.”

  “What did you study in college?” Del asked as he flipped on his signal to go around the truck in front of him.

  “I graduated with an associates in business.”

  “You want to go into business?”

  “Hell no. I want to take pictures.”

  Del shot him a surprised look. “A photographer?”

  “I got this great idea. It’s called Oddities in Nature.”

  “What sort of oddities?”

  “You know, batteries in grass. A soda can in a tree. That type of stuff.”

  “A pictorial book?”

  “Yeah, something for the coffee table.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  Kyle shrugged.

  “You got a camera?” Del asked.

  “Yeah,” Kyle replied and from the depths of his jacket pockets he pulled out a
small digital camera. He handled it carefully, his hands lightly rubbing it. “It’s nothing really, but it’s small and handy and I can capture some great things. Nowadays the pixel resolution is so high that I don’t mind going to auto instead of using manual. Plus, it’s easy to upload to Photoshop.”

  “I have no idea what you said.”

  “Seriously?” Kyle asked with a laugh and put the camera back into his pocket.

  “I admit I am not techno savvy. I even still have a cell phone that has buttons to push.”

  “That’s okay, a lot of older folks find smart phones a bit too much for them.”

  “Who are you calling old?” Del growled. “I’ll have you know I’m only thirty-seven.”

  Kyle only laughed. For a very brief moment, he took Del’s breath away. His pale features lit up, draining away the pinched haunted look and transforming him into a very handsome man with dimples. Del’s mouth went dry and he shifted in his seat.

  What the hell?

  Kyle Smith was a kid! Well, technically, he wasn’t jailbait, but still … way too young for him. But his body didn’t seem to be listening to his rational thinking because his hard-on refused to go away.

  Great. Just fucking great.

  “Where are you headed after Richmond?”

  “I’m picking up a load and heading off to California,” Del replied.

  “Do you ever get lonely?”

  “Most people ask if I ever get bored.”

  “Boredom can be fixed. Loneliness is like depression, it lingers too long and sucks the soul out of you.”

  “Is that bit of wisdom from firsthand knowledge or a fortune cookie?”

  Kyle grunted and yawned again. “Think I can get a job in writing them?”

  “You do that often, I noticed.”

  “Do what?”

  “Answer a question with a question, at least to the questions you don’t want to answer.”

  Kyle shrugged and leaned his head back. His eyes drooped, then opened, then drooped again. “Have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmured drowsily and second later he said no more.