Page 54 of The Misfits
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.
He curls his arm around Megan’s shoulders then guides her to a bench seat. “It’s okay, ma’am. There’s 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 while 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, 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 sizable 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 transportation 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’s a certain uniqueness that comes from being batshit crazy. Not everyone can be this remarkable.
“Tie their shoelaces together.”
Megan slants her head to the side and arches a brow. The low hang of the sun bouncing off her shining eyes makes it harder to look annoyed.
“It will be funny. When they try to run, they’ll trip over.” I barge her with my hip, adding some playfulness to my request. It is either barge her or kiss her again. Considering we’re only five miles from my father’s estate, I settle for the friendly vibe instead of a passionate one.
With a roll of her eyes, Megan does as instructed. I knew she would. She’s a good little pet.
While she knots the officer’s shoes with the Ferrari owner’s loafers, my eyes drift to the speedster’s Rolex. “Shit, we’re going to be late.”
I yank Megan away from the police cruiser before slamming down the trunk. She lands in the Ferrari’s leather-stitched seat with a thud when I toss her inside. She grunts, unappreciative of my manhandling. She’ll thank me when she discovers my father’s dislike of tardiness.
When I floor my foot on the gas pedal, the tires fail to gain traction the first ten seconds. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for us to be weaving through the traffic surrounding us.
We arrive at my father’s estate with barely a minute to spare. I don’t care that it is by the skin of our teeth. A second early is still not late.
As I guide the Ferrari down a gravel driveway I’ve traveled many times, Megan’s eyes go crazy. Just like many before her, when I referred to my father’s estate as the “stables,” she envisioned a rundown country estate. That isn’t the case. Not in the slightest.
The grandeur of his home is as extravagant as a palace. Large clay bricks hold up the four-story, twenty-two bedroom, sixteen-bathroom design on over twenty-five hundred acres of estate. It is the derelict stables in the middle of his hunting ground four miles from here that gave it its title. This is where he brings his favorite pets, the ones he plans to keep longer than a night or two.
Confusion slides my foot from the gas pedal to the brake.
Is that why he asked me to bring Megan here? Does he want to make her his?
