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

missed the raven, who fluttered and weaved around the bullets with surprising agility. Then it launched itself into the air and soared across the lead-strewn sky.

At the same instant, more jötnar suddenly leapt over the wall, clearing the security fence with feet to spare. They landed nimbly, drawing weapons from the slings around their necks. All of a sudden there were enough submachine guns pointed at Gunnar to put down a riot.

Gunnar knew his only chance of survival was to keep Corso between him and the shooters. He lunged forward and wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the gold chain. He yanked that arm back, dragging Cal’s head forward. At the same time, Gunnar twisted hard at the waist and rammed his elbow into the gang boss’s nose. There was a loud crack and a grisly crunching, and blood sprayed into the air.

He twisted the thick golden rope of a necklace around his left fist, shortening the leash on Corso’s neck, then grabbed hold of the man’s central horn with his right hand. The combination of handholds gave Gunnar the leverage he needed to manhandle the gang lord into position between him and the other jötnar.

Mimi had taken his hint and dropped down behind the planter when the raven had made its move. She had curled into a tight ball behind the cover, her eyes sparking with fury.

“Everybody chill out,” Gunnar shouted. “Any of you makes a move, I’ll rip your boss’s goddamn head off.”

“Slick move,” Cal growled. He tried to push Gunnar back, but the move choked him on his own necklace. “But it won’t save you. Don’t be stupid, man. She wants you, and she gets what she wants. Give yourself up. Don’t be stupid, and Mimi gets to walk away.”

“You’re the one who’s stupid,” Gunnar shot back. “Dressing up as a monster doesn’t make you any less of a pussy. I’ll beat you now, just like I beat you on that stupid Ukranian deal.”

The jötunn, enraged by the insult, whipped his head back and away from the bodyguard. The unexpected move hoisted Gunnar up, the heels of his motorcycle boots a full six inches off the ground. Then Cal whipped his head hard to the right and launched a pair of uppercuts into Gunnar’s torso. The powerful attacks drove the breath from the bodyguard’s lungs and weakened his grip on Cal’s horn. When the gang boss jerked his head sharply to the left, putting his enormous strength to full use, momentum ripped Gunnar’s hands away from the slick horn.

His other hand, though, remained trapped in the chain’s golden coils as his body flew away from Corso. The metal constricted around his fingers, shattering bones and dislocating knuckles in a splintered chorus. A wave of agony exploded from Gunnar’s hand. He couldn’t think through the pain, he couldn’t see.

And none of that mattered.

Primal anger pushed back against the pain. Getting hurt was inevitable. But he wouldn’t die. He’d make the jötunn pay for hurting him.

“Shoot him!” Corso’s voice was still strong. Thick cords of muscle protected the gangster’s trachea from the crushing pressure of the golden chain. “A hundred grand to the motherfucker who kills him.”

Jötnar exploded through the villa’s front door, their bulky bodies jostling for position as they stormed into the pool area. There were so many of the big freaks they’d gotten in each other’s way and couldn’t fire on Gunnar without hitting one another.

The bodyguard knew that was a brief reprieve, though. If he and Mimi weren’t gone before the jötnar got their shit together, they were both dead.

Gunnar threw one leg behind Corso’s leading foot and slammed his weight into the monster. The surprise and leverage from the attack overcame the gangster’s superior strength and buckled Corso’s knee. Gunnar pulled the gang kingpin’s necklace hard to the right and down, using his body weight to rip Cal off his feet and slam him to the ground.

Three of the jötnar around the pool opened fire. Bullets ripped through the air above Gunnar and Cal and hammered the privacy wall behind them. Leaves and twigs from the bushes that bordered the property spewed into the air as lead missiles flattened against the stones.

Cal and Gunnar had landed hard on their sides, and the bodyguard used the surprise to continue his roll away from the guards. Cal was unprepared for the maneuver and grunted as his shoulder crashed into the concrete again. The pair had rolled behind another planter, giving the bodyguard precious seconds of safety.

“Give me the stone,” Gunnar shouted. He slammed his fist into the jötunn’s right eye, then the left.

“Fuck you,” the jötunn roared. With a sudden, explosive move, Cal shot back to his feet. The chain tangled around Gunnar’s hand dragged the bodyguard up, too, and Gunnar struggled to get his feet under him. They ended up standing face to face, snarling and shouting as they hammered at one another with vicious punches.

One of the jötunn guards rushed Gunnar’s blind side and clamped a hand around the back of the bodyguard’s neck. He hoisted him into the air by his spine, squeezing Gunnar’s cervical vertebrae between meaty fingers.

But the monster hadn’t counted on Mimi. She darted from behind cover and grabbed hold of the submachine gun dangling from the strap around his neck. She found the safety and slid it off in the blink of an eye, then rammed the muzzle up under the jötunn’s ribs on his right side. The weapon spat a three-round burst into the guard, shredding his heart and lungs in less than a second. Golden light flared from the hole in her forehead, and the rest of the jötnar shouted in surprise.

And fear.

While Gunnar and Corso traded blows, Mimi freed the weapon from the fallen monster and put it to work as she retreated to cover behind the planter. Her first burst shattered the nearest jötunn’s knee, cracked his thigh, and blew a hole through his guts. As that foe fell back, she unleashed a