Page 5 of Viking

Gator exhales a cloud of smoke. “What do you want us to do with the body, Prez?”

“Leave it. Maybe it will send a message to his pedo friends.”

Breaker comes and stands beside me, surveying my handiwork. “Some unlucky civilian is bound to find it on their hike at the ass crack of dawn.”

“I’m countin’ on it. ’Cause then it will be all over the fucking news. Those kiddie fiddlers will get the message.” I wipe my blade on my jeans, run a gloved, bloody hand over my face and smooth scalp, breathing in the sweet, coppery scent.

Nothing like a little vivisection before dawn.

I release a slow, steady breath and turn my attention back to the prospect. “You and Rat clean up this fucking mess. And don’t leave a goddamn trace of your DNA.”

“Got it ... Prez.” He gags again but swallows it down.

Weak little fuck.

Meatball tosses him the keys to the cage he’ll be using to drive all this fucking equipment back to Niko’s. I grab another beer from the bench beside Blue and open it, chugging the liquid and tossing the can toward prospect. “Don’t forget that one.”

“On it, Prez,” Wingnut says, but he’s looking all kinds of green and doesn’t budge. Oh, yeah. He’s gonna puke again. I make a mental note to leave the kid at home next time I’m called to create a masterpiece.

Rat shakes his head. “We’re gonna be here all fucking night.”

Breaker claps a huge hand on his shoulder as he walks by. “Don’t worry, Rat. We’ll save you some pussy.”

“Maybe one of Niko’s new girls from the cathedral enjoys sucking tiny rat dick.” Gator stands and flicks his cigarette butt at our newest patch. “Probably used to it with all the vermin in those canals beneath the city.”

I chuckle and walk the narrow path along the bluff toward my bike, and the rest of my boys follow suit—all except the prospect and Rat. With the mess Wingnut made of the railing and rocks, those boys will be here for hours.

A shock of white fabric in the water below catches my eye, and I stop and do a double take, but when I look again, it’s gone. I graze the shoreline, searching for another glimpse. Meatball runs into my back, and then the whole fucking MC is bumping into one another like dominoes on top of a cliff face.

“Shit,” Meatball says. “Sorry, Prez.”

I clench my teeth and turn to glare at him. He looks up from his phone with wide eyes and an uneasy expression.

“Give me your phone.”

“Er ... I don’t ... I don’t want to, Prez.”

“Give me your fuckin’ phone, Meatball.”

Reluctantly, he hands me the device. It’s a piece of shit, an old Nokia with a cracked screen. I can barely make out the pixilated image of his old lady’s tits. I pull my arm back and toss it into the sea.

“Aw, man.”

“Focus, you dumb fuck. Did you see a woman down there?”

“Where?”

“In the water, near the cove.”

He turns and peruses the shoreline. “I can’t see anything. It’s dark.”

I let out a long-suffering sigh and tromp the rest of the path to the small parking lot where my bike sits in line with the others.

I’m fucking seeing things now? I need some harder liquor than beer, and a warm pussy to slide my dick into, and now that one more pedo fuck is dead, I might finally get some sleep.

---