Young Guns Box Set - Books 1-4: A Tanner Series (Young Gun Box Sets)

by Remington Kane

  The man had threatened to break Ryker’s jaw, but it was his own chin that sat at an odd angle. After giving Roy a kick to the balls, Ryker smiled down at him.

  “I’m going to fuck Wendy raw.”

  Roy raised his hands to defend himself against the blow he saw coming. That only resulted in him receiving a pair of broken fingers to go along with his cracked skull.

  A few moments later, Ryker opened the passenger door of his truck for Wendy. She was smiling as if she’d just received the perfect present. When she looked over at Roy, a laugh escaped her.

  “Is he dead?”

  “He’ll heal, but he’s headed for a hospital stay.”

  As Ryker drove away, he told Wendy that there was a change in his plans.

  “If I check-in to a local motel the cops might show up. I need to find someplace else. Any suggestions?”

  Wendy leaned over and kissed him.

  “I have a key to Roy’s place… and he won’t be needing it tonight.”

  Ryker laughed. “I like you, girl. You’ve got a mean streak.”

  Wendy giggled and ran a hand over Ryker’s crotch.

  98

  Breaking And Entering

  NEW YORK CITY, APRIL 2018

  Beth Tang placed ingredients in a ceramic mixing bowl as she hummed to a song on the radio in the kitchen. She had just enough time to prepare snacks before she had to leave home again to pick up her children.

  Beth was the mother of two girls. The children had both gotten parts in the school play and were busy at rehearsal. After placing the bowl on a stand, she lowered the tongs of a mixer into her concoction and turned on the power. As she finished, Beth thought she’d heard an odd noise come from the front of the apartment. She called out her husband’s name as she turned off the radio.

  “Eric? Are you back so soon?”

  Nothing. But she was certain she’d heard a creaking noise. After wiping her hands clean on a dish towel, Beth moved through the apartment. She saw nothing amiss and her husband wasn’t in his den or the living room.

  Thinking that perhaps the mixing bowl had made the noise as it shut off, she headed back into the kitchen. Then, Beth stopped walking when she saw the front door. It was sitting open a fraction of an inch while the wood around the lock was splintered.

  Beth spun around to head toward her phone and the world went black.

  Monty gave Craig a shove.

  “Dumbass! You hit the bitch too hard and knocked her out.”

  “So? We have to search the house anyway. We can do that while we’re waiting for her to wake up.”

  “Yeah, but she might have just told us where the book is, and we wouldn’t have to search.”

  “I don’t know about you but I’m searching this place. You know these rich assholes have stuff we can sell. Shit, there might even be money here.”

  “You’re right, now grab her feet. We need to put her someplace.”

  A short time later, Wire was across the street keeping an eye out for the police when he spotted an Asian in a suit and tie being greeted by the doorman. He took out his phone and called his brother.

  “Craig, Tang is a Chinese name, isn’t it?”

  “Chinese, Japanese, something like that, why?”

  “An Asian dude just entered the building; he might be the husband, so be ready for a visitor up there.”

  “Good job, Wire, and keep watching for cops.”

  Eric Tang was in a good mood. Not only was he expecting to have a pleasant evening, but he had also acquired a bottle of his favorite cognac. Tang knew he was a snob with highbrow tastes, but so what? He was a man who appreciated the finer things life had to offer and he was fortunate enough to be able to afford them.

  He was removing his keys from his pocket when he noticed the condition of his apartment door. An instant after that, the door swung open and a gun was pointed at his face.

  “Be cool, dude.”

  The voice was young, while the man’s face was partially hidden under the folds of a hood and a pair of sunglasses. He was a big one, six-two or six-three, and muscular.

  “Where’s my wife?” Tang said, and then he saw the second man as he walked into the apartment. He was much thinner than the first thug but dressed the same. He shut the door after Tang had stepped inside, then he told Tang to hand over his wallet and phone. Tang complied, while keeping a grip on the bottle of cognac he carried. The heavy glass bottle would make a decent weapon if an opportunity arose to use it.

  “Your wife is okay,” said the big man. “She’ll stay that way if you tell us where the black book is, the one she got from her brother.”

  “Dalton? You’re here because of something Dalton did?”

  “He had a little black book, only instead of the kind with phone numbers, his had code words or some shit. Give it to us and we’ll leave here.”

  “We received nothing from Dalton and hadn’t seen or heard from him in years. We only recently learnt he was dead.”

  “Maybe, or maybe not,” said the thinner man. He was also holding a gun. Tang noticed he had the safety engaged and decided that he would disarm him last.

  The bigger of the two pointed toward the den.

  “Let’s take him in there. I’ll work him over while you keep searching.”

  “There’s no black book here,” Tang said, “but I can give you money. There’s several thousand in my safe.”

  “Where do you keep the safe?” asked the thinner man.

  “In my den, behind a bookcase.”

  The first man, the big one, stuck his gun in Tang’s face again.

  “If you try anything I’ll kill you and your wife, got it?”

  “Yes,” Tang said, and when the man lowered the gun and turned, Tang spoke three more words. “All lights, out!”

  The apartment went dark as the smart lights blinked off. A loud CRACK! was heard, that was followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

  99

  A Waste Of Time

  UTAH, AUGUST 2001

  Spenser passed out the gadgets he had bought. They were cell phones with texting capability. While it was true their three separate targets lived near each other, they were also miles apart.

  The land around the deacons’ homes was mostly flat. However, Cody’s target lived at the top of a hill that could only be reached by a winding dirt road. Spenser’s target was at the edge of a forest and Romeo’s man lived near a stream that meandered through the region.

  The three assassins were standing near a section of that same stream as they made their plans. Heavy rain had fallen the night before and so the water moved along at a steady pace.

  They arrived in separate vehicles, as they might need to gather supplies for their due diligence. When Spenser had trouble calling Cody’s phone even though he was standing three feet away from him, he wished he had brought along walkie-talkies instead. He did have a pair of them in his truck, but they needed three.

  “I knew the cell service wouldn’t be good out here in the middle of nowhere but—”

  Cody’s phone rang. He answered it as he smiled at Spenser.

  “Hello, Spenser. I guess it works sometimes.”

  “That’s good. They may come in handy. We’ll meet back here in no more than four hours. If one of us doesn’t show or call by that time, the others will go looking.”

  “These dudes are supposed to be at work today, right?” Romeo asked.

  “That’s the information I was given,” Spenser said. “As far as I’m concerned, these guys have been living on borrowed time. They killed at least two women and they’re rapists to boot. It’ll be a pleasure to pull the trigger on them.”

  “How are these guys still walking around free?” Romeo asked.

  “A young district attorney made a deal with the men. If they agreed to testify against their cult leader, Damon Wheeler, they would be given lighter sentences on a less serious charge. The DA figured that Wheeler would turn around and sell them out by testifying ab
out their drug dealing activities. Then, Wheeler was killed, but the deals the DA made with the deacons were still good. I figure you can guess that the DA didn’t win reelection.”

  Cody frowned. “I’m surprised you took the contracts. Killing these scumbags will be easy. I was hoping for something more challenging.”

  “Tougher contracts will come,” Spenser said. “But the experience will do you two good. Also, don’t get too relaxed out there. Being cocky can kill you.”

  “There’s cocky and there’s confident. I’m confident,” Cody said.

  “I want to thank you two for giving up your dates. It shows me you’re committed to doing what it takes.”

  “You’re welcome, dude,” Romeo said, “but I still think we could have just shown up on Sunday and dusted these creeps.”

  “I agree,” Spenser said. “Then again, I’d rather be too prepared than not prepared enough. We’ll all live longer that way.”

  Cody parked his vehicle at the bottom of a hill and left the hood sitting open, to make it look as if he’d had car trouble. Why he would be in the area at all was a puzzle since there was nothing around but empty land and scattered copses of trees. When Cody spotted a second but smaller hill a short walk away, he considered using it as a sniper’s post. Maybe killing his target from a distance would add some degree of difficulty to what was an easy contract.

  The larger hill where the deacon made his home was steep, so the winding road curved back and forth to aid in climbing. Despite the hard rain that had fallen in the area recently, the dirt road was dry. What moisture hadn’t run downhill was evaporated by the direct sunlight it received.

  Cody was careful to walk in the patches of weeds at the side of the road, so as to leave no footprints behind. He reached the top of the hill without seeing or hearing anyone, then he looked out over the view.

  Cody could see for miles but the land below was predominately featureless and uninteresting. Still, the spaciousness brought to mind the ranch he grew up on, and a mood of melancholy overtook him. He should be in San Francisco enjoying the company of his current girlfriend, not traipsing atop a hill in what was surely the armpit of Utah.

  He continued on toward the lone structure on the hill, the house that belonged to his target. A layer of concrete had been put down, so Cody no longer worried about leaving tracks.

  It wasn’t much of a house at about six-hundred square feet and it looked as if it had been built by an amateur carpenter. There was an outhouse nearby, set near a small water tower, which suggested there was no running water. The generator, stored in a box to curb the noise, was the only source of electricity as well. Over on the right was a short wooden fence. It acted as a safety railing for the sheer cliff that reached to the road. When Cody looked over the edge he could see his vehicle.

  The deacon Cody was being paid to kill was the man who worked as a bouncer. The face in the picture Spenser had shown him appeared mean and sullen. It reflected the type of life the man had led. Cody would feel nothing when he killed his target, except perhaps satisfaction for knowing the brute would hurt no other women.

  The lock on the home’s front door was a joke; Cody picked it in two seconds. The interior of the house was musty, and clothes and trash were littered about.

  Only one photo was visible. It hung on the wall to the left of the door. It showed a group of people, most of whom were men. The man in the center of the photo stood out. He was dressed in a white suit but wore a black Stetson on his head.

  Cody was able to pick out the face of his target, even though the man was much younger looking in the photo. A closer examination of the picture revealed the other two targets. Cody was sure he was looking at a group photo showing the members of Damon Wheeler’s cult. He assumed the man in the white suit had been Damon Wheeler.

  Cody leaned in and studied the faces of the women, while wondering which one Mary McCoy had been.

  “Rest in peace,” Cody whispered, as he went back to work.

  A discreet look about revealed a shotgun under the bed. When Cody shined a flashlight on it, he saw that the gun was dusty.

  When he returned on Sunday morning, Cody figured he would kill his target with no trouble at all. It irked him that he had trained hard and learned much only to be given an assignment such as this one.

  He was so angry he nearly drove away without completing his due diligence. Only his commitment to follow Spenser’s instruction made him follow through. As it was, he did so in a perfunctory way and by using materials that were in the trunk of his car.

  When he was done, he drove away and headed toward the rendezvous point near the stream. Romeo was already there; he looked as unhappy as Cody felt.

  “My dude lives in an old trailer down that way,” Romeo said, as he pointed along the stream. “The damn door lock doesn’t even work. I bet I kill him in his sleep and get back here on Sunday before you and Spenser even reach your targets.”

  “We’ll be in and out of here in no time,” Cody agreed.

  “Damn but I wish I was in San Francisco. This whole trip was just a waste of time.”

  “I feel the same way,” Cody said.

  Spenser returned an hour later and reported that his target lived in a motor home, although it was a newer model than the trailer Romeo’s target inhabited.

  “These should be easy kills,” Spenser said.

  “Too easy,” said Romeo.

  “We’ll see,” Spenser said, then he asked, “What about due diligence?”

  Both boys nodded that they had done theirs. Spenser reached out and laid a hand on each of their shoulders.

  “Thank you for doing this, guys. I know it must seem like a waste of time to you, but it’s important to do things the right way. Taking shortcuts in this business can get you killed, or jailed.”

  The boys nodded their understanding, said goodbye, and drove away. Two days later, they would return to the area and find themselves in the fight of their lives.

  In another part of Utah, Vince Ryker was in a hotel room and talking on the phone to Galong. Lying in bed naked with a pair of headphones on was Wendy.

  Ryker had planned to rejoin his raiders before heading back to Utah to kill Spenser, however, Wendy had proven to be a delicious distraction. They’d been together for days and Ryker had yet to tire of her. That was unusual for him. He’d only been in love once, and that was with the mother of his son, whom he had married. And while he didn’t love Wendy in the least, he enjoyed her, the way her mind worked, and how twisty she was.

  The woman loved seeing violence done, and she had been insatiable after having witnessed him destroy eight opponents in a fight.

  Ryker’s wife had no such quirk and had left him after finding out who he really was and what he did for a living. Ryker was fine with that, but he was damned if he was going to lose his son and made that clear to his wife, leaving no uncertainty in her mind. Ryker raised his son, who was in his teens and staying with friends while he was away. He missed his daughter as well, and he was looking forward to returning home.

  Galong assured Ryker he and the other raiders were on their way and would join him that night.

  “Why you stay in Utah?” Galong asked. “You hope Hawke be early, so you could kill him?”

  Ryker laughed into the phone.

  “That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead, I’ve been shacked up with a honey.”

  “A honey?”

  “A woman, Galong. You’ll meet her when you and the boys get here.”

  “You have fun. Hawke will be no difficulty.”

  “Don’t underestimate the bastard. He was trained by a Tanner, but yeah, even I would have a problem facing off against dozens of men.”

  “We be there in eight hour. Don’t forget to hire rooms.”

  “I already did it. You’ll have your own suite, buddy, but the men can double up in regular rooms.”

  “See you later, Tanner.”

  Ryker hung up and looked over at Wendy. She
was staring back at him while licking her lips. Ryker joined her on the bed and took Galong’s advice about having fun.

  100

  The Nickname Fits

  NEW YORK CITY, APRIL 2018

  Wire knew he was supposed to stay outside and keep watch for the cops, but he was getting a bad feeling. The husband coming home worried him, and he didn’t want his brother getting into trouble. He knew from experience it wasn’t easy to keep two people under control if they were ready to fight back. If there were kids up there too, things could get crazy fast. A third man in the apartment would make things go smoother.

  He tried calling Craig again and received no answer. That was enough to turn Wire’s worry into fear. He sprinted across the street and headed for the building.

  After killing the lights with a voice command, Tang smashed the bottle of cognac across the back of Craig’s head with enough force to break open the thick glass bottle. Craig dropped to the floor along with the gun he’d been holding.

  Before Monty could react, Tang kicked back at him and landed a solid blow to Monty’s midsection. The kick sent Monty stumbling backwards to fall atop a coffee table.

  “Lights on, full!” Tang said, and the room came ablaze with brilliance. Craig was lying with his face pressed against a carpet soaked with cognac. Tang scooped up the gun Craig had dropped and pointed it at Monty.

  Although Monty still held a weapon, he looked stricken and was having trouble taking a breath. Tang reached him in four steps and bashed him in the forehead with the butt of the gun. Monty cried out and Tang hit him again. The second blow did the trick and Monty laid limp on top of the coffee table as blood ran from a cut above his eyes. Tang relieved him of his gun and called out to his wife.