The TANNER Series - Books 1-3 (Tanner Box Set)

by Remington Kane

  She had parked her car as well, and when they reached her, she showed them the video of their felony.

  Merle looked up from the camcorder screen and gazed around in confusion.

  “Where’s all the other Feds?”

  Sara smiled at him.

  “Luckily for you I’m no longer in law-enforcement, but I can hand over this video to them at any time.”

  Earl had been staring at her legs, but he raised his eyes and asked a question.

  “What do you want from us, lady?”

  “Tanner, I want to find Tanner and you two are going to help me do just that.”

  Merle and Earl raised their hands and waved them as if they were refusing seconds at a cookout.

  “No way,” Merle said. “That damn Tanner almost got us killed and it’s a miracle he didn’t do it himself. Hand in that damn video and we’ll take our chances.”

  “I’m willing to pay,” Sara said and saw a spark of interest enter the brothers’ eyes.

  “How much?” Merle said.

  “One thousand a month and all I want you to do is to keep your eyes and ears open and let me know if you hear any news on Tanner.”

  “A grand a month for that, that’s it?”

  “Yes, but you’ll also need to put yourselves where you’ll be likely to hear such news.”

  Earl squinted at her.

  “And where would that be?”

  “You need to get in close with Johnny R, he wants Tanner dead for what he did to his uncle, Al Rossetti, and he’s the best chance I have to track Tanner down.”

  Merle shook his head.

  “Johnny R is a made man, he’d never hang with me and Earl.”

  “I don’t need you to become his best friends, but I do need you to become part of his organization, that way, you’ll be in a position to hear things.”

  Merle pointed back at the car they had stolen.

  “We were going to take that to one of Johnny R’s chop shops, once we get there, we could bullshit and maybe learn something.”

  Sara stared at the three-year-old Volvo the boys had stolen. After coming to a decision, she took out a slip of paper that had a cell phone number written on it. She held out the paper and spoke to Merle.

  “Take the damn car and give me a call at that number when you hear anything.”

  Merle took the slip of paper and grinned.

  “What about the money?”

  “Come up with some info and I’ll give you your first payment.”

  Merle and Earl exchanged glances and something unsaid passed between them.

  “We want more than a grand, how about six-hundred for each of us?”

  Sara smiled her agreement. When she said a thousand a month, she had been talking about a thousand apiece, the brothers had just bargained themselves into getting less money.

  “I want to hear from you soon, you got it?”

  “Yes ma’am, we don’t like Tanner either, but what are you gonna do once you find him?”

  Sara stared at them with cold eyes.

  “I’m going to make that bastard wish he had never been born.”

  The brothers exchanged glances again and this time the thought they shared was one of gratitude. They were grateful that they weren’t Tanner, for they had no doubt that Sara meant to make her words come true.

  CHAPTER 6 - Go to New York and die

  Rafe Green felt his mother tremble as she sobbed against his chest, while they stood beside his brother’s bed.

  Jerome Green lay in a coma after the beating he received at the Reynolds Lumber Mill, and the doctors didn’t know if he would ever awaken.

  Rafe caught his sister’s eye and she nodded in understanding. Afterwards, she guided their mother away to the cafeteria where she could pull herself together.

  That left him alone with his sister-in-law and he hoped to get answers from her.

  “What have the cops said about this, Rita?”

  Rita Green gazed up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Jerome and the other men were beaten by five men dressed in black and wearing ski masks, they even have video, but they can’t identify them.”

  “The last time I spoke to Jerome he told me that Reynolds had hired a new security firm, and he also mentioned that a man named Monroe had tried to intimidate them.”

  Rita nodded. She was a light-skinned black woman with large hazel eyes and long hair.

  “I asked the Sheriff about that and he said that those security people all have alibis. They were seen drinking in the Tree Top Pub until closing, even that man, Monroe, and so it must have been someone else that did this to Jerome.”

  “Reynolds hired outsiders to cover for their outsiders, it’s clever, and I would guess they assume that no one will ever be able to prove anything.”

  Rita sniffled.

  “I don’t care who hurt him. I just want Jerome to get better.”

  Rafe bent over and kissed the top of his sister-in-law’s head.

  “Jerome’s tough, baby, you’ll see, he’ll come out of this coma, and in the meantime don’t worry about a thing. If you need money or help with the kids, the family is here for you.”

  Rita took his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “Thank you, Rafe.”

  Rafe left Rita with Jerome and headed for his car. He needed answers and was going to get them one way or another,

  ***

  Chuck Monroe lived in an apartment complex in Summervale that catered to young professionals.

  At forty-one, Monroe was pushing the young part, and as hired muscle, he was also not what most would consider a professional, but Monroe liked the building and had dated more than one of his young female neighbors.

  Monroe had a bodybuilder’s physique, wore jeans and T-shirts and kept his blond crewcut ultra-short, so that the gray at his temples was less noticeable.

  Around his apartment building, he was known as a man you didn’t mess with, but the morning after Jerome Green was beaten into a coma, Monroe’s reputation took a serious beating as well.

  Monroe walked towards his car in the parking lot of his complex and found Rafe sitting on the hood.

  “Hey buddy, get off my damn car.”

  “My name is Rafe Green. I’m Jerome Green’s brother.”

  “Yo, Green, I didn’t lay a finger on your brother; ask anyone, I was at the pub until closing.”

  “So I heard, but you know something about what happened and I’m not leaving here until you tell me what that is.”

  Monroe stepped closer to Rafe and glared with malice.

  “Get the fuck off my car before you get hurt.”

  Rafe had been leaning back on the car, a blue, vintage Pontiac Firebird, with his palms flat on the hood. His weight shifted onto his left hand, as his right fist caught Monroe on the chin. Monroe took a step back, shook his head and threw a right of his own.

  Rafe was off the car, blocked the punch, and then delivered a second punch to Monroe’s midsection, followed by a third, fourth, and fifth in rapid succession.

  Monroe dropped to his knees and barfed up the bagel and eggs he had eaten for breakfast.

  Two of his neighbors stood by staring at him, both were young women nearly half his age and when Monroe saw the laughter in their eyes, it hurt more than Rafe’s punches had, because he knew that the story of his beating would spread and make him the butt of jokes.

  In a fit of rage, he jumped to his feet and lunged at Rafe. Rafe stepped aside with ease and Monroe landed atop the hood of the Trans Am.

  Rafe bent down and whispered into his ear.

  “You’re a big, strong guy, but you have little skill. I’m trained in both Karate and Judo, and as an Army MP, I handled guys like you as a matter of course. Stop fighting, tell me what you know and keep at least some of your dignity.”

  Rafe straightened and waited. Monroe lay atop the hood for a few seconds, before turning over and sliding down into a position much like the one Rafe was in when Monroe first saw hi
m.

  “New York City.”

  “What about New York City?”

  “The guys that hurt your brother were from New York. I don’t know their names, but I heard that the crew leader was named Joe Puller, or something like that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, they’re mob guys.”

  “Mob? Like the Mafia?”

  Monroe shrugged his massive shoulders.

  “That’s what I heard, so brother or not, you might want to drop it.”

  “They hurt my brother, there’s no dropping it and if you’re thinking of telling anybody about this conversation, I wouldn’t. They might consider you a loose end and they also don’t like snitches.”

  Monroe gave him a look of hatred.

  “Go to New York, you’ll die there.”

  “We’ll see,” Rafe said, and then he walked past the pair of gawking young ladies and headed home to prepare for his trip to New York.

  CHAPTER 7 - Semper Fi

  Days later, with preparations made and his family coming to terms with dealing with his brother’s condition, Rafe loaded his suitcases into his car.

  He was going to New York City to deal with the people who had hurt his brother, and was just about to leave, when John Murphy parked across the street.

  When Murphy exited his jeep, Rafe saw that Murphy was with his son, Robin.

  Rafe knew both of them because John and Robin Murphy were members of the same church his mother attended, and Rafe and John had worked together on a charity drive. They also shared a military background. Rafe was Army, while John had been a Marine.

  Rafe shook both their hands while noticing that Robin looked uneasy.

  “What’s up, guys?”

  John gestured at Rafe’s apartment. He looked like an older, more world- weary version of his son, and his dark hair had streaks of gray.

  “Why don’t we go in and talk.”

  ***

  With beer and soft drinks in hand, John encouraged Robin to begin, and the boy told Rafe everything he knew about the night his brother was beaten.

  “A Hummer?” Rafe asked Robin.

  Robin handed Rafe a New York State license plate number written on a strip of paper.

  “It was a black Hummer; that’s the plate number and all five of those guys had New York accents. I saw them again as I was leaving and I heard them call the young one Carmine, but the one who did most of the talking, he was called Joe.”

  “And the man who called you, his name was Al Trent?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Why didn’t you tell this to the cops?”

  “I told him not to,” John said. “His bosses told him to keep quiet about it as well and the last thing I want is for Robin to get beaten like Jerome did.”

  “But you’re telling me, why?”

  John looked over at his son.

  “Robin, please wait for me in the jeep. I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay, Dad, and Mr. Green, I’m sorry about what happened to your brother,”

  Robin was nearly at the door when he remembered something. He walked back to Rafe and handed him the money that Joe Pullo had given him.

  “They tried to buy me with that. You use it; maybe it will help with your brother’s medical cost, at least a little.”

  Rafe stood and hugged the kid.

  “Thanks Robin, for everything.”

  After Robin left the apartment, John asked Rafe a question.

  “You’re going after them, aren’t you?”

  “I am, and thanks to you and your son I’ll have a lot easier time tracking them down.”

  “They don’t strike me as men that would be easy to get the better of, maybe you should rethink things.”

  Rafe took a deep breath and slowly released it.

  “No. I’m going to make the bastards pay, and if possible, I’ll prove Reynolds was behind the attack.”

  John sighed.

  “Old man Reynolds would be spinning in his grave if he knew what became of his company.”

  Rafe stood.

  “I need to get going. I want to be in New York tonight.”

  “I wish you luck, brother, and Rafe, don’t get yourself killed.”

  “That’s not part of the plan, but nobody fucks with my family and just walks away.”

  John grinned and punched him on the shoulder.

  “Are you sure you weren’t a Marine?”

  CHAPTER 8 - Daddy’s girl

  In New York City, Frank Richards left his limo and saw his daughter rushing towards him, her face lit with rage.

  One of his bodyguards grabbed her by the arm and stopped her progress, but Richards waved the man off and Madison Richards kept coming until she was standing before her father. She was Richards’ only child from his second wife and had been unwanted by Richards.

  The petite young woman had her mother’s dark curls, but wore his mother’s angelic face, and it was that face that kept Richards from hating her outright. Richards had loved his late mother dearly and his daughter always reminded him of her, unfortunately, she also reminded him of his late wife, a woman he grew to despise and ordered killed.

  “Another one quit, Daddy, did you pay him off too?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The private detective I hired, the third one, as a matter of fact, and he just up and quit for no reason like the other two, only he looked scared, so I guess maybe you threatened him instead of buying him, hmm?”

  “You need to stop this insane quest of yours and accept facts. Your mother died in a drunk driving accident. She drank too much and ran off the road.”

  “Mom wasn’t a drunk and there was no reason for her to be out on that back road in the early morning. Why can’t you see that there’s something odd there?”

  Richards took his daughter by the elbow and yanked her to the rear of the limo.

  “Enough, Madison! That’s enough. Either you accept what happened or I’ll toss you to the curb.”

  “You’re disowning me?”

  “You’ve graduated college, gotten your own apartment, you’re an adult, but you’re not independent. I’ll have your car taken away and cancel your accounts. Your mother died in an accident and that’s all you need to know.”

  Madison wiped at tears.

  “I know you didn’t like each other anymore, that you were getting divorced, but did... did, did you kill her, Daddy? Is that why you’re so afraid of me learning the truth?”

  Richards made a sharp intake of breath and broke eye contact, and Madison backed away from him, as her face crumbled.

  “Oh, Daddy, no, no you didn’t.”

  Richards spoke to her, but he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Leave, Madison, and don’t ever mention your mother again. If you can’t do that... then you’re no longer my daughter.”

  Madison sat on the curb and cried as Richards walked away with his bodyguards flanking him.

  ***

  When Richards entered the MegaZenith Building on Broad Street, Al Trent was waiting for him in the lobby. Trent was twenty-one, but had graduated Harvard at nineteen.

  Trent was the son of one of Richards’ friends and he had taken him under his wing and found a kindred soul. Al Trent was as cold and merciless as Frank Richards, and had become a confidant and advisor.

  They exchanged greetings and then remained silent until they were alone together in Richards’ office, on the top floor of the sixty-story building.

  Richards settled in behind his desk, fired up his computer, and bade Trent to sit across from him.

  “Fill me in on what’s been happening.”

  Trent pushed his glasses up farther on his nose and began his report.

  “Tim Jackson is still out there somewhere.”

  “And have we learned who was helping him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He certainly didn’t dispose of those men himself.”

  “No, he must ha
ve hired a group of mercenaries.”

  Richards looked up from his keyboard.

  “Find him again, that little piss ant should have been dealt with easily and make sure we take care of whoever is helping him as well. What’s next?”

  “The Summervale problem has been solved. We’ve replaced the strikers with Chinese laborers.”

  “Yes, but what about the strikers?”

  “Their leader, a man named Jerome Green, is still in a coma. That seems to have taken the fight out of them and ended the picketing. Also, the local police have no way to tie the company to the attack.”

  “Excellent, anything else?”

  “Just the usual—Tanner, we still have no idea where the man is, but he can’t hide forever and when he sticks his neck up, we’ll chop it off.”

  “Contact Johnny R and tell him I want to see progress on that. Tanner disobeyed a direct order from me. That can’t be allowed.”

  “I’ll tell him, but you know he wants Tanner dead as much as you do. The man killed his uncle.”

  “Find Tanner, Trent, find the man and have him dealt with.”

  Trent nodded his understanding and headed for the door, unaware that Tanner would soon make himself not only easy to find, but impossible to forget.

  CHAPTER 9 - That would be best

  The following morning, Tanner entered Johnny R’s Cabaret Strip Club in Manhattan and saw the bartender’s mouth drop open in shock.

  It was early and so the place was closed for business, but the bartender was restocking the shelves with bottles, as an old man swept the floor.

  Tanner knew the bartender slightly. His name was Carl and as Tanner took a seat on a stool, Carl whispered to him.

  “Tanner, get the hell out of here, man, Johnny R has a contract out on you.”

  “How much?”

  “Fifty G’s is what I hear,” Carl said. He was a middle-aged man with Sandy-colored hair and a pleasant face, although his eyes always looked sad.

  Tanner tossed his head towards a hallway.