Page 193 of Mountain Boss

He’s crying now.

And to be fair, he’s in tough shape.

Broken fingers.

Broken wrist.

Sprained or broken ankle.

Broken ribs.

Broken nose.

Jaw fucked up.

And those kicks had to hurt.

But he needs to save his energy because it’s getting colder.

Not cold enough to kill him overnight.Probably. But cold enough that he’s going to want to climb out of this dumpster and get to his phone sooner rather than later.

His best bet will be calling for an ambulance.

But ambulances come with questions. And cops.

Sure, he can give them my name and the name of the Lodge and explain exactly what happened.

But he’d have to explainexactlywhat happened.WhyI attacked him.

If it would actually land the Creep in jail, I’d call the cops myself. But I stopped him before he broke the law. So calling them wouldn’t do shit.

But beating the man half to death has been very satisfying.

And hopefully his surgeon sucks, and his hands cause him pain for the rest of his miserable life.

“Cut his hands,” I say to Fisher as I nod down to the man’s tied hands.

Fisher drags the blade over one of the man’s palms.

The man cries out.

I raise my brows.

Fisher’s mouth forms anO. “You meant the rope.”

“I meant the rope.”

Fisher slices through the rope, and once they’re free, the man jerks his arms in front of him, holding them to his chest.

“Up on one,” I say to Fisher.

“Am-Ambulance,” the man chokes out.

“They’ll come when you call them. One.” I grunt as we lift the man by his hips and armpits, then drop him headfirst into the partially filled dumpster.

There’s more moaning and crying as the contents of the dumpster rustle around before everything goes quiet.

I don’t know if he passed out. Or if he’s just playing dead. Either way, he got less than he deserved.

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