I freeze.Nick.Is that why Megan denied my advance? Because she didn’t want to cheat on Nick? If so, I’m even more annoyed I succumbed to the voices in my head. Nick may have millions of dollars in his bank account, a wife with model looks, and the standard one son, one daughter combination every American family strives to achieve, but he isn’t half the man I am. He’s not even one-tenth!
I was certain Megan’s obsession with Nick had shifted to me. She barely reacted when she saw his photo earlier tonight. I put it in my glove compartment as a test. She passed.
Well, I thought she did.
Maybe I can’t read her as well as I thought I could? That annoys me even more than her pulse weakening under my touch.
I stop imagining the life in Nick’s eyes vanishing via my grip when my father asks, “Is your new pet pure, son?”
My throat works hard to swallow a lump before I answer, “Yes.”
I don’t need to see my father to know he is smiling. I can feel his gleam from where I am standing.
“Bring her to the stables. It is time for you to repay your debt.” He pauses to dramatize his last sentence. “If you’re not here by sundown Sunday, I’ll send out the vultures.”
With that, he hangs up the phone, confident I will never go against his command.
I won’t. Even a man as powerful as me knows I am a mere peasant when it comes to a god like my father. I will obey his rules. I always have. Meaning, in just under thirty-six hours, Megan will go from being hunted by the authorities to being hunted by Death himself.
fifteen
MEGAN
Three hours, fifty-seven minutes, and twelve seconds. That’s how long I’ve been staring at the clock, waiting for the creak of the motel room door to announce Dexter is back. The birds have chirped, and the sun has begun its rise, yet I’ve not slept a wink.
My woozy head isn’t the only thing to blame for my lack of sleep—it is being without him, my protector, the man who killed to keep me safe.
It was only when inspecting the bruise circling my neck did the reason for Dexter’s psychosis come to light. He wasn’t mad I turned him down before attacking him with my blade. He was dispersing the energy that blazes through your veins any time you kill.
It took me days to come down from the high I felt when my father sucked in his last breath. The adrenaline that arrived with his death was merciless. So much strength surged through me, I was able to hang him from the second story beam in our barn.
I didn’t want his death to look like a suicide. I wanted him to hang like the rodents in the western movies he watched. He said they were cowards, and a hanging was too upstanding for them. Since he never expressed a more heinous way to die, I had no choice but to hang him. I had considered burying him with my mother, but even with bugs replacing her eyes, she looked peaceful, so I didn’t want to disturb her.Especially not with him.
My muscles ached for days, but the visual of him hanging lifeless in the barn where he had buried my mother was beautiful. Nearly as wondrous as the blood splattered on the rim of Dexter’s hat.
Dexter stood up for me.
He killed a man for me.
And what did I do to thank him?
I treated him like every other vile man I’ve crossed paths with in my life.
I thought Dexter wanted to use and abuse me. I was wrong.
When I tried to hurt Nick’s baby, he retaliated with as much violence. The fumes from the cloth held over my mouth burned my airways, but it was nothing compared to the effect of Nick’s betrayal on my heart. He told the police I wasn’t his girlfriend and begged the judge to issue a restraining order so I had to keep my distance from him. He acted like he hated me when all I had ever done was love him.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he sent me far, far away to a place more interested in medicating than helping me.
Dexter would never do that. He dumped my pills to ensure my thoughts remain lucid and clear. He wants me to make my own decisions.
He might even possibly love me.
My assumptions weaken when a giggle sounds through my ears. It isn’t the big, vociferous laugh I’ve grown accustomed to the past two days. It’s dainty and cute, similar to a giggle a female would make when a prickly chin is dragged down her neck.
With my heart pounding in my ears, I turn toward the pattering sound of steps. Thick curtains are drawn across the window, blocking out the early morning sun, but it isn’t dark enough for me to miss a visual a thousand years won’t wrench from my mind.
Dexter isn’t alone. A pretty brunette is in his arms, and his tongue is rammed down her throat.
