Page 11 of Mayhem and Minnie

The passenger door to the car unlocks with a loud beep.

She doesn’t move.

I look at her. She looks back.

And she doesn’t fucking move.

Goddamn, does this girl have no self-preservation? She’s going to freeze to death.

“What are you doing?” I call out.

My voice wakes her up from her reverie, and alertness enters her gaze.

“Get in,” I say as I push the door open.

She takes a step forward but then hesitates.

“Get the fuck in before the cops come,” I grind out.

Though there’s still indecision written all over her face, she comes forward and reluctantly slides inside the passenger seat. I close the door and turn the heat on to the maximum before I steer the car back on the highway, leaving that creep writhing on the floor behind us.

Silence ensues.

She says nothing. I say nothing.

I continue driving for half an hour, far past the location of my home.

I just keep driving. Aimlessly. Angrily.

My jaw clenches as I realize what I got myself into.

There’s a stranger in my car. A female.

I just beat a man close to his death in a very public place, and that shit might get back to me.

Fuck. I’ll need to scrub the CCTV on the highway and maybe replace my registration numbers. Who knows how much the creep will remember.

Goddamn it!

At some point, as I reach the outskirts of a small town, I stop the car to think.

I scrub my hands over my face in an attempt to calm myself and ignore the fact that there’s another person next to me.

Too close to me.

That’s a first. And I don’t think I like it.

But I took her with me, and now I need to do something about her. I suppose I could always throw her out somewhere and leave her on her own. Yet as soon as that thought crosses my mind, I scowl.

No, that wouldn’t do. I don’t kill women, and I don’t harm them.

I don’t save them either, yet here we are.

Fuck.

I bang my fist against my steering wheel.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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