Page 130 of Little Sunshine

“Yeah, I want to enjoy dessert, so get out.” I walked back toward the table, discreetly removing a new pen from my kit as I went.

I could hear him scramble to stand, stumble, then scramble some more like a cartoon character running in place. When he reached the door, Cole and Marco moved out of the way. A relieved sob escaped him as he yanked the door.

It clattered loudly but didn’t open. It wouldn’t without the correct thumbprint. That didn’t stop him from trying again. And again. That time, an anguished sob tore through him.

I almost felt pity for the poor bastard.

Moving behind him, I jabbed his neck with another needle. He spun around, his hand lifting toward the stinging wound.

You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Before he could touch his skin, his arm dropped uselessly. I grabbed a chair and slid it behind him. Just before he fell back, Marco shifted it out of the way so Zale crashed to the floor, knocking his head against the edge of the metal seat.

My laughter cut off. “Hey, wait, this means I have to lift this fucker into the chair now.”

Marco kicked at Zale’s torso and shoulder until he was positioned near the drain. “More convenient now.”

“Smart.” I crouched next to the frozen man. He could hear. See. And most importantly, feel. I told him as much. “This is going to hurt. Burn. You’ll feel every excruciating moment.”

Soft whimpers were all he was capable of. Those and the tears that steadily streamed down his face.

I pulled on the heat proof kitchen gloves before placing a metal funnel in Zale’s malleable mouth. I’d originally planned to use fryer oil, but when he’d called Mila a honey-ass tweaker, I realized how short sighted that was.

Boring.

Overdone.

The scalding honey and sugar mixture was much better.

It wouldn’t burn away at the layers of his esophagus. It would cling to his insides while it burned away the layers of his esophagus. And then, if that didn’t kill him, it would harden to suffocate him from the inside out.

Far more poetic.

Careful not to injure myself in the process, I slowly streamed the sweet mixture into his mouth. It pooled there until instinct kicked in, and he reflexively swallowed. His eyes screamed what his body was incapable of.

Stop.

Please.

Kill me now.

I’m a fucking waste of space dickhead who should’ve been swallowed or wiped away on a cum rag.

The last one might’ve been what I thought, not him, but it was still true.

Blood and who knew what else flowed out of the side of his mouth. His ears. His nose. And then his eyes. I cut off the syrupy stream as the light went out behind them, his chest no longer a rapid rise and fall.

“That is fucked.” Maximo chuckled. “But fitting.”

“It’s no dove carved into a back,” I pointed out, referencing his own payback.

“And see?” Marco gestured to the leakage going down the drain. “Easy cleanup.”

“You know your shit.” I set the pot down and removed the gloves before kicking the dead man at my feet. I looked at Maximo. “He’ll have to get disposed of, but I’ll dump Jacobs at their place. If anyone bothers to do an autopsy, all it’ll show is an OD. They’ll assume Zale took off. No blowback.”

Maximo lifted his chin in approval. “This is why I keep you around.”

“I thought it was my color-coded organization.”

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