Chapter 38
JASON PILSER—Scylla—wanted to lift his chin and howl. The pain started at his nose, radiated out and along every nerve in his body, pounded in his left thigh and right forearm, which was probably broken. If pain could be seen, he would have been blazing like a fucking light show.
But there was justice too. The bitch was dead. Now he was in charge of staging the body.
He taped the free end of an electric cord to her hand and positioned it over her head; the other end, he tightly knotted around her neck, so it looked as though she had hanged herself.
Gallows humor—and the original plan before Steem had had to shoot her.
If he hadn’t been in such agony, it would actually have been pretty damn funny. He took off the bitch’s athletic shoes and threw them into the van. His trophy. The shoes were so big, he could probably wear them himself. That would be a hell of a thing, wouldn’t it?
He was about to say so as he looked up at Morbid and Steem. Objectively, they were savages. He was sure they killed for the same reason he had. For the unparalleled thrill. It was like a drug. And they were smart enough, disciplined enough, to pull it off in populated areas, like here.
Shit. He’d just killed a woman with traffic racing by on the other side of a fence.
Steemcleena finally spoke. “Scylla. That was a very poor showing, man.”
Jason didn’t like the expression on Steem’s face. Getting injured had cost him points. Hell, she had knocked him down. Jason said, “You’re kidding, right? She’s some kind of judo expert.”
“You guys, get into the van,” Steemcleena said. “Scylla, you’ll get another shot at this. Maybe next time you’ll even win.”