Valhalla Virus by Nick Harrow (best management books of all time TXT) 📕

jumped up as the car’s undercarriage bounced over the lip of a pothole, tires squalling as Mimi threw it into a hard right around the next corner and stomped the accelerator to the floor.

“This plan is looking worse by the second,” she grunted. “This is as dumb as sticking your dick in a beehive.”

“If you’ve got any better ideas to save the world, I’m all ears,” Gunnar grumbled. “And don’t knock fucking beehives until you try it. It’s invigorating.”

“I’ve heard bee stings make your dick bigger,” Mimi snickered. “I guess that explains a lot about you, Jolly.

She leaned far forward to look left and right, decided it was clear enough, then sent the Charger flying across the Strip. A firetruck blasted its horn as it streaked by the car’s rear end with inches to spare. Gunnar felt a moment of hope at the sight of the emergency vehicle with its lights blazing, then disappointment when he saw the jötnar clinging to the truck like ticks on a hound’s back.

He fought back his rage and shook his head. It was hard not to fly off the handle every time a monster showed its ugly face, but he had to work on it. Going berserk was an excellent way to get himself killed.

“We could try something other than walking right into a death trap,” Mimi shot back. “Let’s watch the place for a while, see how many soldiers he’s still got. Maybe he's sent most of them out to scavenge supplies or raid the dispensaries. Then we could hit Corso and snatch the rock without fighting a whole goddamned army.”

Gunnar had played through dozens of scenarios, trying to figure out the best way to retrieve the Valknut. Mimi’s plan might work, but it would take too long. There was no guarantee that Corso wouldn’t pull all his forces back to the Villas until things settled down. A place like that would have enough supplies to hold out for weeks.

Waiting also gave Cal time to strengthen his position. The last Gunnar had heard, the gang leader had a few hundred troops inside the city limits. Judging from what they’d seen of the city, a bunch of the thugs were most likely dead. There’d never be an easy time to grab the thing. The longer they waited, the worse things would get.

“I don’t plan to fight anyone,” Gunnar said. “He knows you’re working for one of the alphabet agencies, right? That’s our leverage.”

“I told you their phone in the house is dead, Gun,” Mimi said.

“Cal doesn’t know that,” Gunnar shot back. “We’ll tell him you’ll trade a way out of this mess for the rock. You’ll look like a big fat lifeline to him.”

“I gained a few pounds babysitting the party bunker,” Mimi said, punching Gunnar in the leg. “But I’m not fat. Here we are. Let me do the talking.”

Mimi eased the Charger down the narrow road alongside the entrance to the Mirage’s ultraluxe villas. Whitewashed stone walls flanked the alley, their surfaces still sparkling clean, the spiked tines of security fences jutting from their tops shining in the sun. This little piece of Sin City looked peaceful and untouched by the violence that had swept through the rest of the Strip.

Gunnar imagined that had a lot to do with the figures he saw on the rooftops overlooking the street. They were obviously armed, and their bulky forms suggested they were well armored, too. The guards’ weapons tracked Mimi’s car as it eased down to the circle drive lined with gated entrances. Jötnar stood outside the gates, the FN-SCARs and B&T APC 10 PROs looking like children’s toys in their monstrous mitts. Cal had seriously upgraded his arsenal since the last time I worked with him.

“Shit,” Mimi muttered. “Look at those monsters. This could get really, really ugly, Jolly.”

A raven soared through the sky overhead, its eye flashing like a beacon to Gunnar. It was a sign, and that enormous bird filled the bodyguard with confidence. He was supposed to be here. This was his fight to win. He was as sure of that as he’d ever been of anything.

He put his hand on Mimi’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ve got this.”

Mimi half turned in her seat as she brought the Charger to a stop. She leaned forward, and for a moment Gunnar thought she was coming in for a kiss. Her breath was warm and soft against his lips. The two of them had only ever had a few flings, random parties that turned into something more, but they’d never been serious.

“Follow my lead,” Mimi murmured, then pressed her cheek against Gunnar’s and squeezed him into a one-armed hug. “Because if you get us killed, I will be seriously pissed.”

The passenger side door popped open before Gunnar could respond, and a thick-fingered blue hand hooked around his arm and not so gently assisted his exit. The jötunn, eight feet of muscle and rank body odor, patted Gunnar down with bruising force. When his heavy hand worked its way up the bodyguard’s inner thigh, Gunnar faked a shiver.

“You’re getting me all wound up, big guy. At least buy me a drink before you yank my dick,” Gunnar said. “There’s a pistol in the small of my back.”

Gunnar raised his arms a little higher so his jacket rode up enough to reveal the waistband rig to Corso’s boy. The guard popped the safety strap and removed the weapon with practiced ease. He dropped the pistol’s magazine, cleared the chamber, then tossed the gun to another jötunn. “Make sure our friend gets his pea shooter back when he leaves.”

“Hey,” Mimi barked from her side of the car, “easy on the merchandise, boys.”

A pair of monsters had patted her down while Gunnar had gotten the once-over. She hadn’t brought a gun, but the blue freaks did find a trio of knives they confiscated.

“We’ll keep the weapons,” the obvious leader of the guards said. “The boss know you’re coming?”

“Tell him Mimi wants to talk,” she said,