My tongue doesn’t need to continue the exploration of her mouth. The officers’ grumbled comment about impatient honeymooners ensured we were left to ride the elevator alone, but no matter how many times my brain commands me to withdraw, my mouth refuses to listen. Megan tastes like heaven and hell wrapped up in one sadistic little skitzo package.
It is only when a computerized voice announces we have arrived in the underground parking garage do my teeth relinquish Megan’s lip from its torture. The meow she releases when I place her onto her feet is her heartiest of the weekend.
“Soon.”
Failing to hear the deceit in my tone, Megan skips out of the elevator car, my promise lightening her steps. Our hike to a row of cars far away from prying eyes slows when a deep voice shouts for us to stop. Although their demand isn’t one you’d expect upon discovering two escaped inmates from a mental institution, it still prickles my skin with hesitation. It was laced with authority, the tone an officer uses when making an inquiry.
“Remain calm,” I instruct Megan while tugging her to my side.
When we spin around to face the voice, my intuition is proved spot on. A young officer I’d guess to be mid-twenties has a clipboard balancing on his washboard stomach. He stands to the right of a group of rental cars. He appears to be matching the tags with the guests of this hotel.
Goddammit—I knew we should have left yesterday. I’m getting careless.She’s making me weak.
I stop glaring at Megan to raise my eyes to the rookie officer. “Can we help you, officer?” I keep my tone friendly, even though I am anything but.
He stops peering at his clipboard to lock his eyes with mine. It is virtually impossible with how low the rim of my cap is. “License and registration, please. No vehicles can enter or exit this garage without being jotted down on my sheet.”
He taps his pencil on his clipboard as his smirk increases to a smile. He’s not smiling to be friendly. He has Megan in his sights. I’m not surprised. For each day she is weaned from medication, the more beautiful she becomes. The healthy dose of psycho in her eyes has done wonders for her complexion.
“Hey, you look familiar,” the officer croons, heading our way. “Are you from around these parts—”
“Should I be concerned about the number of officers here this evening, Sir? My wife, she’s pregnant. I don’t want anything to happen to her and our unborn son.”
Megan’s eyes rocket to mine as swiftly as the officer’s drop to her stomach. He’s inspecting her enticing frame for a bump it doesn’t have. His gawk only lasts a matter of seconds, but it is long enough for me to advise Megan of our plan of attack.
After slipping me the razor from the hidden pocket of her dress, Megan clutches her stomach. Her throat-curdling cry startles the officer’s legs into gear. He gallops across the oil-stained concrete, his keys jingling on his hip with every step he takes.
Curling his arm around Megan’s shoulders, he guides her to a bench seat. “It’s okay, ma’am. There is no reason to be scared. I’ll keep you safe.”
His promise causes my eye to twitch.
It also spares him his life.
I smack him over the head with a fire extinguisher attached to the wall instead of slitting his throat as planned. I don’t know why I offer him clemency. I’ve never given anyone a pardon before, much less a member of law enforcement. Perhaps it was his last-ditch attempt to show Megan not all men are evil? He may very well be the last gentleman she will encounter in her lifetime.
“Grab his keys,” I demand of Megan, nudging my head to his belt. My voice is high with the adrenaline it usually exerts when I’ve killed, but my thirst for blood isn’t close to being quenched.
Soon,I tell myself.
Once Megan has the officer’s keys in her hand, I hook my arms under his sweaty pits and drag him to his patrol car. Recognizing my strategy, Megan pops open his trunk before removing her sweater to clear away the drops of blood the wound in the back of his head left on the concrete.
After a quick glance at the clipboard balancing on his chest, I slam the trunk shut. As suspected, police located the stolen truck yesterday morning. Although they haven’t linked its theft to us, I’m not taking any risks. I’ve amassed enough the past four days. I can’t possibly fit any more in.
My eyes stray to the passenger door of the cruiser. “Jump in.”
Megan glares at me like I am insane. It is a look I’ve been given numerous times in my life.
“We’re only taking him for a little ride until we can switch cars.”
Her glare grows, wordlessly expressing her demands.
“I promise,” I growl through clenched teeth, more peeved at her fondness for the officer than her demand for less carnage.
After Megan slips into the passenger seat, I get behind the steering wheel. I take the exit of the underground garage forcefully, ensuring the sizeable speed bump issues the officer the hit I am unable to give him.Yet.
With flashing lights and a loud siren, we travel twenty miles at a record-setting pace. Safeguarding the promise I made to Megan, I take advantage of our mode of transport by pulling over a Ferrari roaring down the freeway. It is only right I confiscate his car for his bad judgment. The laws are there for a reason. If every Tom, Dick and Harry did what they want, when they want, the country would be overrun with people like Megan and me. Nobody wants that. Not even me. There is a certain uniqueness that comes from being batshit crazy; not everyone can be this remarkable.
“Tie their shoelaces together.”
