Page 64 of Massacre Monday

“We need a doctor!”

Quickening my pace, I follow Ryan as he guides me down a dark hallway, toward a bright red exit sign. Once his hand shoves on the metal door at the end, his limousine waits for us in the alley next to the civic center. Exhaust fumes choke my lungs. The driver holds the door open for us, and we scramble inside. Feeling panicked, I gather my dress bottom and stuff it between my legs.

Ryan slides in after me, then leans forward to grab a chilled bottle on ice and a glass. “Champagne?”

“Ryan, what just happened?”

With a sizzle, he pours the golden liquid into the flute, then hands it to me before serving one up for himself. Like a trophy, he holds it high in the air, then clears his throat as the car turns onto Main Street.

“I propose a toast. To our first crime together, partner. Well done.”

Unable to form words in return, my eyes widen, and I slowly inhale, but he clinks his crystal against mine, slurping it down with a toss of his head. Taking a deep breath, I do the same.

With a peek at the raised divider, I whisper, “Is the senator okay?”

An ambulance whizzes past us on the way toward the building we just left.

Ryan mutters something, then pulls out his phone, opening an app I’ve never seen before. It takes a minute, but shaky camera footage comes on the screen, and he holds it for me to see.

The entirety of our evening was filmed, as if shot from the angle of my breast. When I glance down, I remember his fraternity pin, which still clings to the site where he attached it on my organza lapel. “A camera. It recorded everything.”

His eyes blink slowly as he searches my face, as if he’s seeking approval. How deep did his plan go?

Everything the senator said tonight is right there on the phone. All his nasty words about what he wanted to do to me and all the acts he asked me to do to him. Things he said to his colleagues jokingly, but disgustingly. It’s all on film, and I was an unknowing participant in the activities.

When another screaming siren wails past us, I turn in the seat to follow it out the back window, then swivel to Ryan for an answer.

Shrugging, he gives an almost silent chuckle. “I think the man had a heart condition and shouldn’t have been drinking so much.” His eyes lift to meet mine with a look so pleading, I nearly unravel.

Swallowing, I ask, “And his wife, too?”

One of his long fingers snakes under my palm before he holds my hand in his lap. His warmth bleeds into my skin, taming the tension wound tight inside me. A serious expression takes over as he presses his warm lips to my temple. “She tried to touch what’s yours.”

Despite the knowledge that this man just murdered two people, I somehow feelsaferin his presence. Safer than with my father. Maybe even more so.

When Ryan said he’d kill everyone that stands in our way, I understand now.

He meant every word.

Like he’s my own slayer, my personal demon, a transformation happens deep within me. The tip of my tongue escapes as I think for a moment, considering this man in front of me as a fluttering sensation moves through my chest.

With deft hands, he undoes the camera stuck to my dress and kneels between my legs. From his side pocket, he produces thereal jeweledTheta Rho Zetapin and replaces it, all while his eyes never leave my face.

One of his hands caresses my jaw, stroking it slowly as he leans in, our faces so close I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of latching onto my mouth, he just holds there with his lips parted, breathing in my exhaled air.

That shift in my countenance? It’s power.

I was right. He told me the punchline to the joke.

I’m free when I’m with Ryan Cardell. I get to beme.

So I move in the rest of the way and press my lips to his, battling it out with our open mouths, caressing each other as equals.

twenty-one

It’s difficult,but I manage to pull away from her kiss when we arrive at my apartment building. A red flush floats from her cheeks down to her generous cleavage, and all I can think about is sticking my dick between her tits. My jaw clenches, trying to restrain myself. It’s supposed to be adatewhere I show her a good time. Instead, I set her up to do crime.

Honestly, it’s my kind of romantic outing, and I think it’s hers, too. Or it will be.