Page 3 of The Beast of London & His Pet

The Beast of London. Everyone knew that name. He had the guise of a businessman, but the word on the street was that he was a Mafia boss. Someone passed him a chair and he sat close to me. I noticed he had tattoos on his hand and my heart skipped a beat at the skull with the wordla morteinscribed beside it.

Death.

How appropriate. Rumour had it he was the worst criminal in the city. People constantly vanished around him. However, no one ever made it to the police and these were all allegations that couldn’t be proved. He was going to whack me because I stupidly sold drugs in his nightclub. I made my rounds to all the major nightclubs.

How was I supposed to know who owned what?

“I won't come back,” I said as I looked at his other hand.

He had a dagger tattoo withOmertàon it—the Mafia code of silence.

“I won’t say a word to anyone,” I said.

The brute that brought me upstairs snorted. “She can't control her tongue, boss,” he scoffed.

I pursed my lips to prevent myself from replying to him.

“What are those pills?” the Beast asked.

“Uh, Viagra. Did you need some? I can give you the friends and family discount,” I said before I cringed and closed my eyes.

Oddio.Oh God.

I was going to get myself killed, but I was also about to piss myself with fear, yet my goddamned mouth wouldn't behave. It happened to me in stressful situations. My mind turned to mush, and my words fucked up.

“Did she say Viagra?” someone asked.

I opened one eye to see the Beast had a dumbfounded look on his face before a deep frown furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Viagra is a pill that helps—” I started to say.

“I fucking know what it is,” he roared so vehemently that I felt a spray of spit hit my face.

Ewwww. That shit was nasty.

“Everyone get the fuck out of my office. NOW!” he yelled.

I stared at a pulsating vein on the side of his forehead. He could have a heart attack any moment, but as I took in his physique and age, I realised that it might not be possible. His dark hair had no grey, and he looked too young to have a heart condition. I could try a brazen escape.

I sat up and tried to get up when he pushed me back.

“Not fucking you. You sit here and don't move an inch,” he snarled waving his gun around like a lunatic.

“I might pee myself but you have plastic on the—oh,” I said but stopped because I knew why he had plastic sheets out.

I’d watched Dexter too many times,notto know.

“Please don't kill her,” one of the men said.

Come to think of it, the man looked like the Beast. Perhaps they were brothers. Sadly, they all left, and I swallowed severaltimes, trying to keep my rum and Coke from spraying all over him.

He took a deep breath and I noticed a tattoo on his neck, but his shirt covered it.

“Why are you selling Viagra in my club?”

“I’m a budding entrepreneur, but I’m also broke. It keeps your customers happy. I have several regulars here,” I said with a smile.

It quickly faded when his face began to turn red.

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