Page 77 of Deadly Aloha
“You’ll get your sea legs,” I shouted over the noise of the motor and the crashing waves.
Capone looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. I didn’t care. I was back on the water. No shirt, no slippahs, and lots of waves.Thiswas as close to paradise as I could get outside of Lu’s pussy. And her mouth. And her ass. Well, basically anywhere that she wasn’t.
Tommy did a series of donuts and fast turns to increase the number of waves we hit. Every once in a while when his screams and cries got too quiet, we’d stop to check on Konstantin. Fucker was still kicking, so we kept going.
Capone had said that we’d tied him too high, which was true if we were going for a quick death. By placing him just below the bow, Konstantin would not have been submerged on the journey out to sea. But with the crashing waves of Tommy’s maneuvers and the increased speed, he’d be propelled underwater numerous times in quick succession, having the force of the water coming down on him.
“It’s called keelhauling,” I informed Capone with a smile. I had to raise my voice to be heard over the crashing waves and the engines. “In case you were wondering. It’s like waterboarding, but a hell of a lot more fun.”
Other than me, Kensi was the only one who looked like she was having the time of her life. She even let go of the rail and tried to mimic the titanic bow scene at high speeds. Unfortunately, or fortunately, for her, she kept losing herbalance and would end up sprawled on her husband’s lap. No wonder Lu liked her so much.
Eventually, I gave the signal. Tommy cut the engines. As soon as the propellers stopped, Tangaloa cut the lines securing Konstantin to the keel. All three of the LA Chapter rushed to the front of the boat to look over the bow.
“He’s gone!” Aftermath shouted, like I had just performed a magic trick.
I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb. The three of them headed past the helm to the stern. In the low light provided by the lamps on the captain’s shade, they were able to spot the body floating in the water.
Tangaloa dove overboard in his swim trunks. I dropped my trunks, winked at Kensi, who giggled, and then followed him over.
There were always dangers in the open ocean. Even professionals came up against surprises, which was why it was always best to have a spotter. Konstantin’s body was roughly twenty feet from us. He had the open wound from his leg and would be scraped to hell from being dragged across the barnacles on the bottom of the hull. Barnacles caused resistance in the water and were bad for both the boat and gas mileage. But they did have their uses. At least, to me. It was why Tommy had specific requirements when he’d been boat hunting earlier today.
Together, we got Konstantin back to the boat. Only this time, we brought him up the small swimmer’s platform next to the idling motors.
As soon as I climbed up, Aftermath tossed my trunks at me. “Get fucking dressed, Aloe-Dicky. No one wants to see that little pecker.”
I laughed, and out of respect for our friendship, refrained from staring directly at his wife as I got redressed. “I didn’t want to get them wet.”
Kensi smiled widely. “He doesn’t like that I’ve been showing the other ladies your channel.Hesays he doesn’t mind, but the other guys are getting on him about it.”
I waggled my eyebrows at her. “I say use whatever gets your motor going. You ladies are free to look,” I ran a hand down my soaked abs, “but touching is strictly off the table.”
Capone cleared his throat and gestured down to the man I had just dragged under the belly of our boat. “Is he dead?”
I kicked him, and Konstantin groaned. “Not yet.” I turned to Tangaloa. “Let’s get started.”
“Wait,” Kensi said, pointing down at the bloody man at our feet. “This hasn’t ‘started’ yet?”
“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve seen my channel. You know how I like a good warmup.” Tangaloa handed me a bucket of chum. “Nowwe are getting started.”
Various culturesaround the world had a version ofdeath by a thousand cuts. To my knowledge, the oldest recorded death was from China in the early 900s. They called it ‘Lingchi’or ‘slow slicing’.
I always admired a good torture technique, but I was arrogant enough where I always had to put my own spin on it.
Konstantin, conscious and hacking up seawater, was strung up in front of the glass windshield of the helm. The boat didn’t have a gaff like Tommy’s boat, so we had to improvise using rod holders and a metal pole bent into a U shape. He was spreadeagle with his feet flat on the floor. After being keelhauled, I didn’t want to string him completely up and risk him dry drowning too soon.
Tommy started the boat again, keeping us at a slow pace so we didn’t draw too much attention. We knew where we dropped the chum so we could return to it when we were ready, and this way we wouldn’t have to wait around to prime the waters.
I grabbed another bucket from the helm and put it down between Tangaloa and I. Each of us grabbed a number of hooks, careful not to create any cuts on our hands.
Kensi looked into the bucket. “That’s a lot of fishing hooks.”
“A thousand of them,” I informed her as I pinched Konstantin’s arm and slid a hook in. I tapped the bucket with my bare foot. “You’re welcome to help.”
“What’s the most painful area?” she asked, coming closer.
I shrugged. “Probably his balls.”
Kensi laughed as Aftermath snapped, “No! You are not touching another man’s balls!”
