He slammed the pedal, and the car squealed away. Simon had five minutes to get to a restaurant twenty minutes away.
“Shit,” he said out loud. “Vic is gonna kill me.”
The last thing Vic told him was don’t get blood on his shirt. Simon didn’t expect Vic to call while he was on the way to tell him to bury the body that was in the trunk. Why would Vic want him to do that now?
Simon pushed number one on his cell phone. “Vic. I got blood on me shirt,” he was brave.
“Fuck,” a booming voice came through the speaker. “Okay, I’ll meet you at my car. I have a new one.”
Simon pulled in the parking lot. Vic and Deano were leaning on Vic’s car. Deano opened the door before Simon shut the car off. He jammed a needle into Simon’s neck and emptied the syringe.
Simon became confused and groggy. The blurry vision didn’t help.
“The idiot could never take orders,” he heard Vic say before closing his eyes.