Page 86 of Blue

Mooky nodded as he reached for a rag to wipe his face. Walking around the unconscious man on the floor, he stopped at the shop sink. After he turned on the water, he dipped his hands under the spray and watched the color change to a pinkish hue from the blood.

“Can’t keep him on grounds for too long,” Prez reminded. “Prospects can dump him.”

Mooky’s nostrils flared. He should be the one to see this through. Holt had been his problem, after all.

“We had them leave the car at the house. Someone is gonna notice he’s not there soon.”

Mooky nodded before turning off the water. “I need to finish him.”

He didn’t want any chance for Holt to survive this. He’d crossed Odin’s Fury, and his life was the price.

“That’s fine, but what I’m saying is that it needs to be done sooner rather than later. They’re already looking for the guy.”

Peering over his shoulder, he studied the leader of his club. While Clark stood with his arms folded and his chin high and a mug set in stone, he didn’t appear particularly pissed off. He just seemed tired.

“You have a half an hour to conduct your business. If I have to come back out, I’ll finish it.”

Mooky nodded. It was more than gracious. Besides, he’d run out of implements in the shed to use. He’d never had the time or the opportunity to be this creative before. It really tested him to have so much available.

“Church tomorrow afternoon to discuss all this fuckery.” Clark turned and exited.

Left alone in the dark shed with Holt smelling like piss and copper, Mooky considered his options. He’d definitely pulled muscles throughout his body that night, but it had to be done. All good things had to come to an end.

While Officer Shouty McFuckface was by no means a good thing, delivering well-deserved misery to him had been quite the delight—cathartic, really. But it had gone on too long. He should be back with Blue. She shouldn’t be alone right now.

After walking around Holt, Mooky crouched. Staring into the swollen face of the man who had tormented his loved ones, he felt an odd sense of justice. It was over now. Holt couldn’t hurt them anymore.

“You’re a sorry sack of shit,” Mooky said as he pulled the gun he always had holstered under his cut.

With his finger resting on the trigger and muzzle hovering over Holt’s forehead, Mooky took a deep breath. The time had come to end it.

“May the misery follow you to Nástrond.” Tightening his grip, his finger pulled the trigger.

BOOM.

His wrist bent slightly with the recoil of the gun. Holt’s head snapped back. Warm blood splattered over Mooky’s chest and face. Finally, the monkey on his back left. He’d just shed about 200 pounds of pain-in-the-ass and instantly he felt lighter.

Done.

He raised to his full height and reached up. His fingers wrapped around the chain to the lightbulb. With a tug, the room went black.

If only the rest of his problems could be solved so easily.

His boots squeaked through the puddles of blood and piss as he stepped the few paces out of the shed. Opening the door, pre-dawn’s fresh air slapped him in the face. Closing his eyes, Mooky took a deep lungful of it.

One hurdle down.

When he opened his eyes again, he spotted one of the prospects sitting on the back patio in an Adirondack chair with some club whore.

Clark told him to put a prospect on cleanup. At least Mooky knew this one.

Curling his tongue behind his teeth, Mooky let out a loud whistle.

“Prospect,” he shouted.

With a startled jolt, the man trying to earn his place in the club clutched the topless woman closer to his chest. She let out a squeak as he turned his head in Mooky’s direction.

“Your sister works at the vet clinic, right?” Mooky asked.

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