Run So Far

by Elizabeth Monvey

  Del sighed but kept his mouth shut and a second later, he heard Kyle’s deep, even breathing. Why was he bothering to talk to the kid? He didn’t need distractions, especially from a gorgeous young man with shaggy blond hair and electric blue eyes.

  Del shook his head.

  Shut up!

  Chapter Three

  Everything was dark.

  He was running.

  He was running in the dark but he could still hear her. She was screaming, so loud it hurt his ears. It echoed all around him and no matter where he went or where he turned, her scream followed him.

  Then suddenly he was there, in the room, staring at the girl. All the furniture had been taken away, the room stripped bare. Empty except for the naked girl standing in front of him.

  She was pretty, in a girl next door kind of way. Her hair was long dishwater blonde with green streaks running through the strands. She had hazel eyes outlined in heavy black liner. She stared at him strangely, pleading for something.

  He wished he didn’t have to look at her.

  But he couldn’t turn away.

  Because he was responsible.

  She was dead and he was responsible.

  And now she was pleading with her eyes because she couldn’t talk.

  Because she suddenly had no mouth. It was … gone. Like someone had erased it, just like they had erased her.

  The lights went out, the room faded to black.

  He didn’t know what was worse, her screams or her silence.

  Kyle jerked awake and blinked rapidly, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes and hoping to scrub away the image.

  He almost gagged at the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, realizing he must have bitten the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming aloud. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face as he tried to steady his racing heart. Then he thought about the girl, or at least he tried to think about her. That night rumbled through his mind and a hazy fog moved with it, obscuring the sharper details of memory.

  It was so hard to think. All he needed was some time, some space, to put all the pieces together. As he rubbed his temples trying to ward off a headache, he noticed that the truck was stopped. He looked out the window and saw that they were parked at a loading dock with several other rigs on each side. It was dark outside but the lights from the plant lit the area up well enough that he could see men hustling around. He opened the cab and stepped out, shivering as the cold air hit him. He immediately missed the warm softness of the passenger seat but knew they had to be in Richmond.

  His free ride was over.

  “That’s it, Del.”

  Kyle peaked around the side of the truck and saw an attendant talking to Del, holding out some papers.

  “How’s your sleep log?”

  “I’m gonna get some food and then crash.”

  “So it’s … eleven now. I’ll see you at nine tomorrow for your pick up?”

  Del gave a salute. “You got it, John.”

  Kyle watched as Del jumped off the dock and headed toward him. The night air was moist with a hint of coming rain. Kyle hunched his shoulders and jammed his hands in his jeans pockets.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You look pale. Would you like to grab a bite to eat? There’s a diner right down the road that has some great vegetable soup.”

  “Does it have noodle alphabet in the soup? I like spelling my name with those little letters.”

  Del grinned. “I learned my ABCs that way.”

  “Me too, but then I eventually moved onto numbers, stars, and before I knew it, I had a full blown addiction to shape noodles.” Kyle shook his head forlornly. “My poor first grade teacher didn’t know what to do with me except put me in alphabet soup rehab.”

  “So seventeen years clean and sober?”

  “I’ve even got the scratch and sniff stickers to prove it.”

  A deep chuckle rumbled from Del as he waved at him. “Come on, get in. I promise to not let you fall off the wagon.”

  “How noble of you, sir.”

  Del drove them to a diner where a large neon sign boasted twenty-four-hour service seven days a week plus a gift shop selling authentic Civil War bullets. Rigs littered the parking lot, some with cargo some not, along with numerous cars with license plates from all over. Kyle burrowed further into his jacket and hurried into the warm inside of the silver paneled restaurant. Several waves and calls of hello from fellow truckers greeted them as they wound their way past tables for a booth in the back corner.

  The menus doubled as placemats and Kyle tried not to cringe at how his fingers stuck to the laminated paper. Soup really didn’t sound appealing, nor did eggs, so he decided to go with something sweet and full of carbohydrates.

  “Are you ready to order?” Del asked him.

  Kyle blinked and turned, seeing the waitress waiting with her pen and pad at the ready.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll have the short stack of pancakes and a large chocolate milk.”

  Del’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll take the full breakfast plate, with scrambled eggs, bacon and a ham steak. With decaf coffee, please.”

  The waitress smiled at them and hurried away.

  “I’m glad you were able to get some sleep,” Del said. “Although you snored a little.”

  “That’s always attractive, eh?”

  “Maybe a little cute.”

  Kyle snorted. “Well, I appreciate you letting me hang with you. I haven’t slept much in the past week.”

  “Why?”

  The waitress came back to put their drinks down, then she hurried off once more. Kyle picked up a spoon, examined it to make sure it looked relatively clean, then mixed the chocolate syrup through his milk.

  “Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

  “It’s a long story,” Kyle replied.

  Del looked expectantly at him, but Kyle didn’t really want to dive head first into the murky waters of the past seven days so he didn’t bother responding. After a moment, Del took the hint and changed the subject.

  “What are your plans now?” Del asked in between sips of coffee. “That is, now that you’re in Virginia?”

  “Not sure yet,” Kyle replied. “Might just hide out here for a bit before flying back to Baltimore. Try to find a hotel that has cheap rooms.”

  Del opened his mouth as if to question him more, but just their waitress came back holding plates with steam rising from the food. Kyle was relieved he was saved from interrogation, at least for a few moments. He took his time chewing and swallowing, trying to prolong the meal in an effort to stave off the questions he knew were coming.

  Finally, Del pushed away his empty plate and sat back in the booth, hunching his shoulders to fit against the vinyl seat.

  “So you never answered my question,” Del said. “What are you running from, Kyle Smith?”

  He wanted to trust Del, and his instincts told him that he could. If the man had wanted to harm him, he could’ve easily done that when he’d been vulnerable in slumber. But the situation was unchanged and he still had no answers to give.

  “How long you been trucking?” he asked instead, changing the topic.

  Del didn’t answer right away. He stared intently at Kyle, as if trying to figure him out, deconstruct him. It made him a little nervous but also a whole lot aroused to have those intensely dark eyes analyzing every detail of his face.

  “Almost two years,” Del replied softly. “Why won’t you answer my question?”

  “What did you do before driving a rig?”

  “Military. Are you in some type of trouble, Kyle? Drugs?”

  “Which branch?”

  “Army Rangers. Is it drugs? Are you a smuggler?”

  Kyle frowned. “Do I look like a smuggler?”

  “How the hell do I know what smugglers look like? If not drugs, then what?”

  “Why do you want to know? In about five minutes we’ll probably part ways and you’ll neve
r have to see me again.”

  “Oh really? Because I was going to offer you a place to crash tonight.”

  Kyle pushed his plate away, the food settling in his stomach like a lead weight. He was angry and wanted to walk away, wanted to get up and storm out, away from the questions and away from the memories. Instead, he placed his elbows on the table, tented his fingers and rested his forehead on the pads of his thumb.

  “Have you ever been in the wrong place at the right time?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Instead of answering, Kyle sat back and reached into his pocket, pulling out his small digital camera. He laid it on the table.

  “Because of that,” he whispered. A shudder of revulsion rolled through him.

  Del glanced at it with a frown, as if trying to understand the answer.

  “I took a picture,” Kyle explained. “And now I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “I take it that it’s a bad picture.”

  Kyle nodded.

  “That’s why you need to think?”

  “The picture can hurt a lot of people,” Kyle explained wearily. “I keep trying to think things through but there’s this … fog that blankets everything.”

  “Fog?”

  “Yeah. Like I’m seeing my memories through a haze. I keep … they’re right there but every time I concentrate on them it’s like they just … I can’t … focus on them.”

  “And how long has that been going on?”

  “Since last weekend,” Kyle murmured. “Hard to believe my life has changed so much inside a week.”

  He grabbed the camera and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket.

  “When I was discharged from the army I was plagued with dreams,” Del said. “During the day I was fine but then at night awful nightmares would hit me. Horrible flashbacks of things I’d seen. Things that were out of my control.”

  “Does it ever go away?”

  Slowly, Del shook his head no.

  Kyle deflated like a balloon. His shoulders slumped as he rubbed the back of his neck. Tension vibrated through his muscles.

  “Now what do I do?” It was a question that kept running through his mind.

  Del signaled for the check. A second later the waitress laid it down, picked up some dishes and left just as quickly as she had appeared. Kyle pulled his wallet out to grab some bills when Del placed his hand on top of his and halted his search.

  There was that jolt again and, for a second, Kyle just stared at the callused fingers on top of his. Del was a man who had the hands of a worker, strong and tanned. Against his fairer skin, the contrast was startling.

  “Del?”

  He glanced up through his lashes at the older man, waiting.

  Del jerked his hand away. “Um,” he said and licked his lips. Kyle couldn’t help but follow the path of that tongue. “I’ll get this one.”

  Kyle raised his brows. “Why?”

  “Because I invited you to dinner. Because I want to.”

  Kyle nodded and put his wallet away. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Kyle,” Del said with a small sigh. “You are … damn it … are you ready to go?”

  Kyle knew that wasn’t what Del was going to ask, but he let it go. “Sure. Thanks. You know. For dinner.”

  “So do you wanna crash for the night in my truck?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t have made the offer if I wasn’t,” Del replied.

  “Then yeah. Thanks, Del.”

  As Del scooted out of the booth, he muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like “It’s going to be a long night.”

  Chapter Four

  The rain started about an hour after he and Del had gone to sleep. Or, had gone to bed is the more accurate since sleep was proving to be very elusive. It would have been bad enough had he only to think about what to do with the picture, but knowing that Del slept only a few feet from him, half-naked, was playing through his mind.

  Del had driven them back to the loading docks and parked in a special area in the back reserved for truckers needing to sleep. He had explained the mandatory law that required him to keep a log recording his driving time and resting time, making sure there were ten hours a day reserved for slumber. Too many accidents involving truckers falling asleep at the wheel or being too tired in order to properly ascertain a potentially lethal situation had the Department Of Transportation cracking down on the industry.

  Del parked the rig, turned on the heating generator, showered and gone to bed, letting Kyle make up the kitchen table and chairs into a bed. It worked like those in campers, where the tabletop could be lowered and the chair cushions would flatten out for someone to sleep on. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was warm and it gave him one more opportunity to relax before he had to worry about his next step. One more night where he could bury his head in the sand.

  All through Del’s nightly ablution, Kyle feigned sleep, catching only glimpses through half-opened eyes of wet, tanned skin. When he climbed up to his bed wearing only low riding flannel pants, he revealed a heavily muscled chest and arms with a smattering of hair that tapered down and disappeared into the waistband. Several tattoos decorated his biceps and back, mostly military in design.

  Was it wrong to lust after a man he’d just met? Kyle had met lots of men he’d been instantly attracted to, but the impact Delaney Vance had on his senses was unlike anything he’d felt before. It made him hesitate, however, because he wasn’t sure if it was simply the situation that made the allure all that more potent. Still, he seemed to be in a constant state of arousal around Del and if he’d been alone, he would’ve taken his dick in hand and eased the pressure from his lustful thoughts.

  So instead of focusing on Del’s magnetism, he tried to steer his thought back to the problem that had landed him here. Once again, he tried to concentrate on the events that happened last weekend, going step by step through the time line. Somewhere along the way the fog had to clear so he could remember every detail and sent a silent curse to his cousin, Brian, for placing him in the situation in the first place. Had he known what Brian was up to that night he never would have tagged along. Of course, had he known what was going to happen, he would never have snapped the picture.

  But he had and he did.

  Kyle rolled over onto his side. He wished the night would last forever. Simply hide in Del’s rig and forget the outside world. Forget his family. Forget the picture in his camera.

  What could he do now? What should he do?

  He could never go to the police back home because he couldn’t trust the police in Baltimore. But if he went to the police in Richmond, would they have jurisdiction rights?

  Did murder trump state lines?

  He let his mind wander aimlessly for a bit, tired of thinking about his family, trying to picture the devastation that would happen if the picture got out. His mother would break down again, perhaps even snap the way she had after his father had been killed. She was a fragile person, needing to be cared for, so he wasn’t even sure if his mother would support him. His uncle … God. His uncle.

  His uncle would never believe his only son, Brian, was such a horrible person. He had … he had … Jesus Christ! Why couldn’t he think straight?

  Kyle rubbed his temples as the rain fell steadily, drumming on the cab’s roof. It was peaceful, the drops falling in a lulling melody that soothed the tension in his shoulders and let his mind finally settle. He was in the first stage of twilight, on the verge of succumbing, when a soft moan came from the top bed.

  Instantly, Kyle snapped awake, his heart pounding as he wondered if Del was pleasuring himself. The image of Del holding his rock hard cock, stroking it up and down, circling the tip and catching the salty fluid—

  He gave his own little groan as his dormant lust flared up, but the next moan that came from the top bed did not sound very sexy, in fact, it didn’t sound conscious at all.

  The bed squeaked. Covers rustled
. Kyle sat up and waited, not quite sure exactly what was wrong but his instincts were telling him that the moaning wasn’t due to pleasure. On the heels of that thought, Del moaned again, this time the sound verging on being pain filled. Immediately he got out of bed and saw Del’s supine body, twisted within the blankets, with sweat glazed on his skin. He twitched as his hands clasped and unclasped in his sleep, trapped in whatever nightmare gripped him. He let out a little whimper and before it died away Kyle had jumped up onto the bed with Del, reaching out to grasp the older, bigger man.

  “Shh,” he soothed, running his hands over Del’s face. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

  Tears trickled down Del’s cheeks and Kyle brushed them away.

  “You’re safe, Delaney.”

  Del’s eyes opened and looked at him, but it was obvious he was still locked within whatever hell he was dreaming about. Slowly, awareness seeped back into his dark eyes, he blinked, and then Del’s hands came up to cup Kyle’s face.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, not unkindly. His voice was husky, demanding.

  “You were having a nightmare,” Kyle answered, keeping his tone even and low.

  Del stared at him a second longer and then squeezed his eyes tightly. “Oh God,” he groaned, and his arms crushed Kyle into his body. “God damn fucking dream.”

  Kyle hugged him back. His body responded, hardened. “Sorry,” he murmured when his erection became noticeable.

  “I’m not,” Del responded just before he brought his mouth down onto Kyle’s soft lips.

  The kiss was not gentle. It was rough, raw. Del’s lips pressed his open and he slipped his tongue inside, seeking his, twisting with it, dancing. Any protest that Kyle might have had evaporated. He pressed his body more firmly into Del’s, needing to feel every inch of him.

  Kyle explored Del’s hard body, the sweat slicked skin helping his hands slide over the tightly defined shoulders and down his back. Del pushed Kyle’s shirt up, breaking off the kiss long enough to pull it off, then he was back ravaging his mouth. The fire between them became an inferno as Del licked his way down Kyle’s neck to suck on an erect nipple. Kyle moaned when he bit gently down on the tight bud, loving the almost too intense way Del devoured him as the older man kissed and nipped his way down his body.