Mephitic (Anathema #2) - Yolanda Olson Page 0,48

could have gone.

“Hand it over,” I say to her in a stern tone. It wouldn’t surprise me if she tried to fuck herself with it while I was asleep.

“Hand what over?” Red asks innocently.

I return the glance with a level stare and remember that she may be useful later on. “My shirt.”

She begins to chew her lower lip nervously as she moves away me and disappears into the bathroom to grab the dead chick.

Running a hand back through my hair, I turn my eyes toward the kid. He’s got his back to me as he pulls on his jeans and that’s when I get a great idea. When I see him attempting to pull his shirt over his head, it gives me an idea and I walk over to him and take it out of his hand.

“Thanks for the shirt,” I tell him with a smirk. And when he scowls, my smirk turns into a grin.

I’ll turn him into a real Meyer before this is over. Whether he likes it or not.

Red comes back into the room, dragging the wad of bedding around the dead girl, grunting like a stuck pig when I notice that she’s limping.

“What happened there?” I ask with a grin.

She lowers her eyes but doesn’t respond right away. Not with words, anyway.

Instead, she drops the dead chick on the carpet, scoots toward the bed and lifts her leg, planting her heel on the bed. When she pulls up her yoga pants to show me, my dick twitches at how flexible she is—but I manage to keep it down by looking at the kid and remembering that one fuck up is more than enough.

I turn the dial up on the radio and begin to drum my fingers against the steering wheel in time with the piano music that floats through the speakers.

“Just a small town girl—”

The kid reaches over and jabs the power button almost instantly and I laugh. He’s lucky that I let him sit in front with me again after being such a pussy on the way to the dump we just left, but I’d rather his company than Red’s for the time being.

“Wanna know something?” I ask, glancing at him for a moment. When he turns his eyes toward me in that bitchy little way he thinks will scare me, I smile. “This shirt smells like blonde whore. You sure you never fucked that girl?”

The look on his face goes from bitchy to shocked to angry.

“Whoa!”

He reaches over and pulls on the steering wheel with all of his strength and we go careening off the side of the road. I smack his hands and when he doesn’t let go, I land an elbow into the side of his head, knocking him back against his door as I spin the wheel trying to regain control of the truck.

Once I’ve got it under control and we’re back on the road, I run a hand back through my hair.

“You’re such a pussy. You’d never last a day with me at home, you know,” I tell him as I glance into the rear-view mirror. Red looks completely undisturbed as she keeps her eyes on the world outside of her window. “I mean, you haven’t even been able to rattle her, what the fuck makes you think you can get to me?”

“I wasn’t trying to rattle you,” he replies through clenched teeth, the pain obvious in his tone.

“Oh? Then what was that?” I ask as I reach up into the visor for the pack of smokes.

He lets out a loud sigh as he rubs the side of his head and continues to nurse the bruise that I’m sure will grow into a nice little egg in no time. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“I can’t. You’re still here,” I reply thoughtfully. “But you know what? I’m gonna keep my hands to myself for the rest of this trip. Trixie doesn’t like seeing her charity cases beat to shit and I’m sure you’ll become one of hers in no time.”

Actually, that’s not a bad idea.

He doesn’t answer me, so I cast a casual glance in his direction then shake my head as I turn my eyes back toward the road.

“Hey, Red? How’s Satan’s failed superstar holding up?” I ask, looking in the rear-view mirror again.

“Fine,” she replies immediately as she raises her eyes to meet mine. “She doesn’t smell too bad or anything.”

“She won’t for a few days,” I say thoughtfully. “But thankfully, she won’t be with us that long. Not that this