Page 76 of Kiss Marry Kill
Before he had a chance to process what was going on, he looked around. Was Megan in the car already? He looked at Robbins’ horrified face and without another thought, he took off on foot. Not able to look down and risk losing sight of the car, he took the phone out of his pocket and hit #1.
“Yo.”
“He’s got her. He’s fucking got her!” he yelled breathlessly, as he sprinted as fast as he could. “He’s in her car. You have the tag. Call 911.” Jax continued to run, pushing people out of the way. “Just crossed Collins Avenue, heading west!”
“Cops have been notified; I have the tracker up just in case you lose ’em.”
“Ain’t fuckin’ losing ’em!” Jax yelled, putting the phone back in his pocket so that he could use both arms to sprint, slipping out of his suit jacket as he ran, tossing it aside somewhere on Ocean Drive. “Move!” he yelled to a bunch of tourists, taking pictures of God only knew what. “Get the fuck out of my way!”
Turning left, he hopped over a roadblock and almost slammed into a moped as the Porsche turned abruptly left. Ignoring the burn on his injured leg and hip, he continued to move, honing in on them, since the Saturday night traffic in Miami was horrific. The light was green but there was bumper-to-bumper traffic. Thankfully, the police sirens were getting louder and because of the congestion he was only a few cars behind the Porsche.
He prayed to God Ryan didn’t have a gun, and that the police presence wouldn’t further risk Megan. The police were coming in from the opposite direction and he could see them ahead and to the right just as he made his way to the Porsche, barely moving now. Oblivious drivers, some with their windows down photographing the art deco architecture or the eccentric people enjoying the nightlife. Others with low tires and big bass blasting around.
* * *
“Please,” Megan cried, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “Just let me out. I’ll give you anything you want, just let me go.”
Ignoring her pleas, Ryan hummed one of Megan’s songs as he focused on driving. She tried to press the seat belt button, but he had altered it and it wouldn’t let her unbuckle.
“What is it that you want?”
“I like games.” Ryan said, with a nefarious giggle that sent fear pulsing up her spine.
“O-okay . . . what kind of games? I can p-play a game,” she cried. Anything to relax him so he’d drop his guard.
“I saw you. When he was fondling you in public just now. Saw it. Made me so hard, Meggy. So hard.”
She shook her head from side to side. Whatever fucked up game he wanted to play . . . it was going to be bad. She could feel it in her bones. “I’m going to keep you safe. You shouldn’t be in the public. You’re for my eyes only. Mine. You can sing to me all the time. Doesn’t that sound nice, Meggy?”
“Y-yes.”
“We can play games too. Singing and games. So much fun,” he said, sounding juvenile. “Fuck Marry Kill,” he said, his tone now severe. Scaring the shit out of her.
“W-what?” she asked.
“Fuck Marry Kill. Tell me what celebrity you’d fuck, marry, or kill.”
“Uh . . .” She couldn’t think. She looked through the side mirror and from a distance she could see Jax running toward the slow-moving car. The traffic was horrible, thank God, and if she could just get the goddamn seat belt off, she could open the door and jump out. She began to hyperventilate. “Please, Ryan. Just please let me get out. How am I going to sing if you have me in here?”
“Don’t want to share you. I can keep you safe. Strange, dangerous people are everywhere, Meggy. Everywhere. You need someone to keep you safe. Out of the spotlight. Safe,” he said, tapping a finger against the steering wheel. One of many tics. He was also cracking his neck from side to side and his voice was fast. Too fast. The man had clearly snapped. “I want to play a game, I said.” He slammed his fists into the steering wheel and turned his catlike gray eyes on her, causing her to almost throw up. He pressed the back of a knife to her head, and poked her with it. “Game game. I want to play a game. Game game.”
“Help!” she yelled loudly. “Help!”
He thumped the butt of the knife against her head again before closing his eyes and covering his ears. “Be quiet!” he yelled back. He was losing it. She stopped yelling, scared that he was too erratic and out of control. “Fuck Marry Kill,” he repeated, prompting her for an answer.
“Uh—uh.” She could not think of one goddamn celebrity at the moment.
She could see Jax getting closer, his gun already drawn. “Your boyfriend’s here,” Ryan said, oddly calm, looking through the rearview mirror. He went from calm to tightening his grip so forcefully on the steering wheel that it looked like he would rip it off. His jaw pulsed and his shoulder twitched frantically. He looked possessed, which made her fear spike to utter panic.
Then, gunshots exploded and the car, which hadn’t been moving because of the traffic, slumped down when the tires popped. Screaming loudly from the sudden noise, Megan tried to open the door but it was locked and the seat belt was still not budging.
“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Ryan yelled at her, his ears covered and his eyes closed. When she stopped moving and screaming, he reached over, fiddled with the seat belt latch, and unbuckled her. Simultaneously he grabbed her hair, sending pain shooting up her scalp as he dragged her over the center console and out of the car.
“You want to know my celebrities, my little mouse? Who I’d fuck, marry, kill?”
She was shaking and tears flowed down her face. He pulled out his knife and pressed it against her throat. “You,” he said. “You. You. You.” He whispered the words against her ear, spittle shooting out of his mouth. “I’d fuck, marry, and kill you, after we played all the games and sang all the songs.”
She gasped as she felt the pain from the knife tearing at her flesh.
