The man was still shaking, and his face began to distort.

"You're going to die, too." The man struggled to say a word, his head covered with sweat.

"You're a murderer, a guy with a gun pointed at me, and if you were me, what do you think I'd do?"

"Don't be alarmist, I don't believe you want to die." The man's dry lips trembled violently.

"Maybe I don't want to, but maybe I want to?" With a sneering smile on his lips, Wicker said slowly: "I don't seem to hear me, I'm an underground racer, I've seen many of these things happen, and I've experienced such car accidents myself, but I survived in the end." So I know how to survive in such a situation. ”

"What do you mean?" The man asked.

"It's not interesting, anyway, you weren't you anymore at that time, your face has been cut by glass, maybe it's your throat that has been cut, and even your skull has been shattered to the ground." Wicker laughed, intending to draw the man's attention to the seat belt.

The man's chest began to feel heavy and his breathing became heavy.

Suddenly the laughter stopped, and Wicker continued, "Tell you a secret." ”

"What?" The man asked subconsciously.

"I owe a lot of money because of gambling." Wicker slowly revealed his so-called secret.

"So what?" The man asked, puzzled.

"It was bankrupt three years ago." Wicker looked out the window gloomily, "Do you know what it's like to be in debt that you can't pay off?" ”

The man swallowed and touched the suitcase in his hand.

"I've thought about suicide." Wicker laughed in his heart, but his face remained the same. "I haven't done anything good in my life. So I may not be able to go to heaven. ”

"What do you mean?" The man asked. At some point, his voice had become completely hoarse.

"I want to find a companion to go to hell together." Wicker's laughter became more and more eerie, "I like to have someone to die with me, as an underground racing driver, I deserve to die on the field, and crashing and dying always makes people feel an inexplicable sense of excitement, right?" ”

The voice grew lower and lower, and suddenly Wicker turned his face with a strange smile. The dark light in the car was like a demon crawling out of hell: "I've been looking forward to that moment, maybe today." ”

"You're not going to do that." The man's hands were full of sweat, but his eyes were full of fear.

"Won't?" Wicker still looked at the man, staring into his eyes as if admiring the fear, but with a sudden flick of the steering wheel in his hand, the car writhed on the road.

The violent shaking and inertia caused the man to stagger around in the car, screaming loudly, and the sound was not at all human.

"Throw the gun out." Wicker shouted coldly, and he pressed the center button to open the window.

The man helplessly threw the gun out the window. The gun smashed on the pavement and slashed a few sparks. Disappeared in an instant.

"That's right, you shouldn't be going anywhere else now, are you?" Wicker stepped on the gas pedal again, and the yellow V2 hybrid taxi suddenly sped up again.

"What are you doing? Already threw the gun away. The man shouted frantically.

"Throw that box out too, not wanting to see anything that could hold a gun." Wicker commanded again.

"It's jewelry, I can give you some, but please spare me." The man pleaded in a low voice.

"Throw it out." Wicker's voice was grim, and there was a hint of disgust on his face, as if the box contained a pile of stinking.

The man helplessly threw the box out of the window, and the box rolled on the ground a few times, shattering into a heap, and the jewels inside were scattered, but unfortunately neither of them could see this scene.

Wicker began to jerk the two-way lights, accelerated again, and was currently being targeted by the high-speed police.

The man's face was pale with sweat, and he had completely lost the ability to control the situation, and he couldn't even speak.

But this time, Wickel didn't wait for him to ask a question before he explained to himself: "There's always a police car in ambush in this place, and I don't want to take you around for a night." ”

After a while, Wicker looked in the rearview mirror, where the red and blue headlights were already flashing.

The man closed his eyes in despair and leaned back in his chair.

"I hate the police, but I hate it even more when people put guns on me." "Especially one who looks down on me." ”

The car came to a slow stop, clinging to the tall guardrail, and even if the man wanted to run, he couldn't push the door open.

The police car stopped on the other side, and the fat policeman walked over slowly, holding a pen and paper in his hand, looking extremely unhappy, and there was still a touch of cream on the corner of his mouth, it seemed that it was his supper time at the moment.

"Hey! Officer, there's a murderer in the car, and I hope you can take him away so I can go home and get some good sleep. Wicker got out of the car and reverted to its original oily tone.

The fat policeman's face froze, and he reached for the pistol on his waist.

"Don't worry, this guy has dropped his gun on the road two kilometers away from here, along with a box of jewels he snatched. I've heard that people have been killed, so it's better to see who gets killed tonight, officer. "Wicker looks like a good citizen of Yarman.

The fat policeman stared at Wicker for a few moments, took out his walkie-talkie and began to say a few words, then reached out and took out the handcuffs, and shouted through the window: "You have the right to remain silent, but everything you say will be used as evidence in court......"

By the time he had finished reading the information word by word, Wicker was almost impatient.

The man reluctantly reached out and handcuffed the fat cop, then climbed out of his seat.

"Wait a minute." Wicker stopped the police.

"How?" The fat cop looked at the guy with a puzzled expression.

Wicker turned his head to look at the meter, smiled at the man and said, "By the way, can you please pay for the car?" Don't tip a hundred! ”

The man stared at Wickel hatefully, as if to take his appearance to heart.

"Will you pay him now? Or go back and pay again. The policeman asked.

"In the pocket." The man gestured for money in his shirt pocket.

The policeman took out a card and handed it to Wicker and pressed the man into the police car, when the sound of a police car could be heard in the distance, flashing with a long string of red and blue fluorescents.

"Wait a minute." The man put his head out of the car again and asked loudly, "Are you really an underground racer?" Is that true? ”

"You can leave that question to ask this Mr. Officer." Wicker laughed and drove away.

The man looked at the car in the distance and cursed.

"Shut up, if you don't shut up......" shouted the fat cop.

Without the officer saying anything more, the man kept his mouth shut.

In the distance, the broken case and scattered jewelry were lying quietly, along with the Colt pistol. (To be continued.) )