Blood and Bullet (Thriller Stories To Keep You up all Night) (In The Line of Fire Book 4)

by Rhiley McCabe

  “What?”

  Years ago, Romero had been on a mission to kill one of the Italian mafia lords. There was bad blood between the two mafia families and the richer family wanted the opposition gone. Romero was the right man for the job.

  The job was risky, but the reward was too handsome to turn down, so Romero took it.

  The Mafia lord had gone down to New York for some business. Killing the Mafia lord was easy; he had snuck in through the big backyard and silently into the house. He had moved into the family head’s reading room and shot him dead—two shots—one through the chest and one through the head.

  Killing the Mafia lord had been easy, but getting away from the house proved difficult. A guard saw him as he entered the house through a window; and before he could hide, the guard opened fire on him. He took a shot in his right leg and another one in his right arm.

  He jumped through a window to the outside and hit the ground with a loud thud. The shattered glass had cut deeply into his flesh; a long piece pierced his cheek straight into his mouth. Despite intense pain, he forced himself to his feet and dashed into the bushes behind the backyard; half running, half limping.

  The house guards soon lost sight of him, and after two days of searching, they gave up—giving him a chance to escape. He didn’t have it good for those two days. In fact, he barely made it out alive. He stopped his bleeding, but the wounds were infected.

  Somehow, he got out of the woods and made it to the main road. As he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he saw a dim headlight. At first, he thought it was a guard on his trail, and he gave up on life.

  So, this is how I die?

  He smiled as he expected a crushing blow to his head or a stinging pain that would make him black out. But nothing like that happened. Instead, a woman approached. The last thing he heard was, “Hey… Hey… Are you okay?” before he drifted into a dreamless abyss.

  For seven days, he had drifted in and out of sleep; unaware of his surroundings. On the seventh day, he opened his eyes. The sun rays that pierced through the curtains, illuminating the small room, had hurt his eyes. He squinted; and after a while, his eyes adapted to the light.

  He prepared to get out of the little bed he had lain in. A woman entered the room, carrying a tray with a brown jug and two mugs on it. At first sight of her, he instinctively reached for a weapon from his trousers, but to his surprise, he wasn’t wearing any.

  “Who are you?”

  She smiled and placed the tray on the worn stool beside his bed, “I am Beatrice, what is your name?”

  He ignored her question and went on scanning the little room.

  “Are you looking for this?” She brought out his trousers and all the weapons he had hidden in it: short knives and two pistols.

  “Sorry, I had to remove your pants to treat your leg wound; I hope you don’t mind.”

  He started blankly at her.

  “How did I get here?” He asked and struggled out of the bed; but slumped back because of the sizzling pain in his arm and legs.

  “You shouldn’t move for a while now.” She said as she helped him climb into the bed again. “I found you lying unconscious on the road with several wounds. I thought you could use some help.”

  Her words brought the memories back.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Seven days,” she said as she poured something with a light green hue from the jug into one mug.

  “A whole week?” He frowned, scratching his chin.

  She smiled and held out the mug to him.

  “What is this?” He cautiously eyed it.

  “It’s an African herbal mixture to help you get better. I couldn’t get any drugs because it seemed some people were looking for you, and I figured they would keep close tabs on the pharmacies.”

  She moved away from the bed, brought out a phone and started pressing something.

  “What are you doing?”

  “If I wanted to sell you out, I would have done it already.” She said with a fixed smile.

  He relaxed slightly and sat back, sipping from the mug and starting at her intently. He didn’t know her and he didn’t know why she helped him, but he was grateful. And if she kept her word about not selling him out, he would pay her back.

  He spent several more days in the room where Beatrice had kept him, and when he felt strong enough, he disappeared.

  “Jason, lower your gun!”

  Jason sighed. He knew if the man had wanted to hurt either of them, he would have done it instead of standing around. He dropped his gun. He and Romero continued eying each other.

  “Well, you look better than the last time I saw you.” Beatrice said after an awkward silence.

  Romero stared blankly at Beatrice’s radiant face. He approached Jason and pulled him to his feet, “You need to follow me if you want to live.”

  Jason wanted to protest. But he knew there were no other options, either. He looked at Beatrice, who gave him an encouraging smile.

  He pushed past the man, “You should really choose your friends better.” He said to Beatrice.

  She shrugged her shoulders, “If I hadn’t helped him, he might have killed us…” She whispered.

  Jason paused. He turned to the man, “Who are you? And why are you here?”

  “Look, man, we can stand here and share introductions, but time’s running out. There are two guys out there on a mission to kill you.” Romero pointed his finger at Jason’s face, “I will leave you here, if you wish.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Your man double crossed us!” Carlos fumed into the phone. “He knew we were after him. Now he and Detective Williams are gone.”

  Leo looked to Tate and his companions; they were in a discussion. He walked to another room, “What do you mean they’re gone?”

  “We went there to meet him like you wanted. When two of our guys went over to the house, he shot them. He almost got us, too. Next thing we knew, he was leaving the house with the cop and a girl.”

  “How…”

  “What’s going on?” Tate’s voice could have pierced Leo’s heart. He composed himself before he turned to face him.

  “Nothing, I’m just having a conversation with on of my business partners,” Leo lied. “We’ll continue this later.” He hung up.

  “Can I do something for you, Mister Mike?” Leo challenged when he wouldn’t move.

  Tate eyed him and smiled, “Is everything all right with your business partner? You sounded upset.”

  “All good; that’s just the way it goes. I wouldn’t expect a man in your position to understand.” Leo said assertively.

  Tate chuckled and returned to his two companions in the foyer. Leo paced up and down, contemplating his next move. He smiled, wanting to burst out in laughter over the irony of his situation. He typed a text message and sent it to Carlos.

  I’m in trouble here. Can you come to my house and get me out? I’ll cover the operation.

  After a while, his phone gave a brief buzz.

  On my way.

  Leo walked back to the foyer and sat down opposite Tate, resting his feet on the coffee table. A nervous smile gave him away. Tate shared glances with the two brothers on either side of him and nodded. The three stood up as one man.

  “Time to go, Martinez. You’re coming with us.” Tate said.

  Leo remained seated—frozen in place. All he could do was stare up at them. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like it was engulfed with sandpaper.

  “W—Where are we going?” Leo asked, fearing that Carlos wouldn’t make it in time.

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Carlos put his phone in his pocket as he entered the study. Bloody towels lay scattered in one corner on the floor. He walked to the table against the rear wall. He could see that the wires were detached in a hurry. He opened the drawers; they were full of junk.

  “It’s empty.” Badrick said as he entered.

  “Yeah. They’re gone. We sho
uld leave before the police show up. Someone would have called them with the shooting earlier.”

  “I thought Romero said the cop was wounded. How did they get out?” Badrick asked, pointing at the bloody towels.

  “He helped them. It’s the only explanation.” Carlos said.

  “I’ll end that asshole twice over! He killed two of my most trusted men.” Badrick hissed.

  “Yeah, I want a piece of him, too…” Carlos thought of the disrespectful way Romero had treated him. He would make a glorious example out of him. “Right now though, we need to go. We’re needed elsewhere.”

  Badrick sighed. He hadn’t rested since breaking Carlos out of prison. He enjoyed action as much as any thug, but he wanted a break.

  “Needed where, mon?”

  “We’re going to Leo’s place; he needs help. Powerful people are after him.”

  Badrick burst out in laughter, “That’s a good one! Who would want to take on Leo Martinez?” He asked, surprised that someone would dare attack Leo of all people.

  “My friend,” Carlos said, patting Badrick on the shoulder. “There are men more powerful and influential than Leo.” He paused, “And they’re after him as we speak. If we don’t act, he’ll die.”

  “Like you care… I saw murder in your eyes when you spoke with him earlier.”

  “I care for my empire. It’s not ready to lose Leo, yet.”

  “How nice… But I’m not going, mon. If there really are people more powerful than Leo, I’m not messing with them. I take chances, but I’m not stupid.” Badrick said and started walking toward the study’s door.

  Carlos clenched his jaw; he could hear his teeth grinding. He pulled out his gun.

  “It wasn’t a request,” He aimed at Badrick’s head, “You are helping me.” His anger strained his voice, “If they kill Leo, they are going to kill all his associates, including your stupid ass.”

  Badrick turned around—unphased by the gun aimed at his head, “I only see one stupid ass, and it ain’t mine.” He walked closer, allowing the barrel to touch his head, “Those people have nothing against me; they don’t even know I exist.”

  “Fool!” Carlos spat, “They need not have shit on you! Once they find out you have worked with Leo in the past, you will be history. As if you never existed at all.”

  A car horn broke the silence outside. Carlos lowered his gun, “That’s our ride. The only way of saving yourself is to help me save Leo. He is the only person who can get you out of this jam.” He put the gun away and gestured that Badrick should go first.

  “Raas!” Badrick cursed in Jamaican, skulking off in front of Carlos.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Get in.” Romero instructed.

  Jason and Beatrice entered the car, and Romero got behind the steering wheel. Within seconds, they zoomed out of the bushes onto the road, heading out of town.

  “Where are you taking us?” Jason demanded.

  “A safe place.” Romero muttered and pressed the accelerator down harder, sending the car flying.

  “Who are you?” Jason asked, recalling the day he was shot in the chest. Something about this man reminded him of that figure he had seen. He wondered if this was the guy who chased him earlier and killed the taxi driver.

  “Just shut the hell up and trust me!” Romero shouted, infuriated at Jason’s questions. For a moment, he regretted saving him. He should have left him for dead and grabbed the woman. She wouldn’t have been able to fight him off.

  “Calm down, both of you!” Beatrice scolded. The two men obliged like reprimanded children.

  “But, how did you find us?” Beatrice turned to Romero, looking at him quizzically.

  It felt as though she saved him just the previous day. After he had disappeared, she forgot about the entire episode. “I mean, it’s been like three years since I last saw you. And here you are—out of the blue, or...”

  “Seven.” Romero muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s been seven years.”

  “Really? You’ve kept count?”

  “I was under a contract to kill him.” Romeo said, pointing to Jason and ignoring Beatrice’s small talk.

  “Did Thomas Patrick hire you?” Jason asked sternly, thinking about the recordings.

  “Not exactly. The skinny guy wanted you dead, but the contract was issued by the… the people who use my services.”

  “You were the one who tried to kill me months ago?” Romero eyed Jason in the rearview mirror and gave one nod.

  “And earlier, you tried to kill me again? What changed so suddenly?”

  Romero’s eyes shifted to Beatrice sitting next to him, “I didn’t realize she was with you.”

  Jason’s gaze turned to her, too. He didn’t want to encourage her to tell a dramatic story, so he suppressed his curiosity and refrained from asking how she had saved a murderer. She smiled at both of them as if she had saved the day.

  “So, you must be Romero, then.” Romero frowned, unable to hide his surprise that Jason knew his name.

  “How did you know that?”

  “Not the best shot, are you?” Jason ignored his question, “They should’ve hired their best man to take me out…” He added with disdain.

  “Jason! Don’t be mean… He just saved your life.”

  “Really? Don’t be mean? This asshole is a killer, Beatrice!” He threw his wounded hand in the air and winced, “You don’t have a very good sense of people, woman. Aargh…” He held his hand to his chest, “He tried to kill me. Twice! He would have killed you, had you been anyone else. And I’m being mean?”

  “But he didn’t! Will you just relax? You’re hurting yourself.”

  “Incredible!” Jason sat back.

  “So… Your employer, do they have anything to do with The Syndicate?” Beatrice tried after a long silence.

  Romero pressed hard on the brake, and the car screeched before halting on the road.

  “AARGH” Jason exclaimed as he used both hands the block himself from flying to the front of the car, “Thanks, asshole!” He grunted as he shifted into position again.

  Romero ignored him and grabbed Beatrice by the arm, “How do you know about The Syndicate?” He plucked her as if trying to shake an answer out of her.

  “Ow! Let go of me!”

  “Hey!” Jason protested from the back, trying to get his grip off Beatrice with his good hand.

  Romero pulled out his gun and pointed it at Jason’s face.

  “Whoa! Put that away!” Beatrice yelled as she continued her struggle to get loose.

  “Answer my question!”

  A car flew by them, blowing its horn and flashing its lights. And then another.

  “That’s none of your business! Will you get off the damn road?” Jason said.

  When another car blew its horn in passing, Romero released Beatrice. He kept his gun pointed at Jason. Beatrice stared out her window, sitting in silence.

  “You’re only alive because of her. Don’t forget that.” He warned and put the gun away.

  He waited for two more cars to pass by before he continued to drive.

  Thirty minutes later, the car swerved hard to the right, and they climbed on a dusty road. Romero didn’t reduce his speed, leaving trails of dust behind them. They came upon a small, inconspicuous house surrounded by rocks and weeds.

  Romero pulled up hard in front of the house and motioned to Jason and Beatrice to get out of the car. As soon as Jason’s feet were on the ground, he lost balance. Beatrice rushed to his side, assisting him as they walked.

  Romero walked ahead to the house and pressed against the wall. Jason and Beatrice both turned and stared in amazement as the ground swallowed the black Ford Ranger, leaving a patch of ground in its place.

  “Is that the advanced underground housing for cars?” Beatrice asked, pointing at the empty spot where the car had stood a few moments ago.

  “Sure,” Romero said in thought as he fumbled with a bunch of keys, trying two or three
in the door before he got the right one, “Assassins need high-tech stuff, you know.” He said in a rather humorous tone and pushed the door open, “Come on in.”

  He stood back and showed that they could enter first. Beatrice smiled broadly at the invitation and entered, forgetting that she was supporting Jason’s weight. He almost fell over, but Romero grabbed him by the arm to keep him standing. He was too weak to be appalled.

  “Thanks,” he muttered as Romero helped him inside.

  As they entered, Jason’s nose wrinkled at the smell of urine and old beer. Romero let Beatrice support Jason again. He held on to him tightly. He could sense her fear. Suddenly, white fluorescent lights illuminated the house.

  Jason and Beatrice exchanged glances. The living room was old, creepy, and filthy—like the abandoned houses in horror movies. The cushion chairs were worn out, there were cobwebs everywhere and yucky, yellow blobs stained the walls.

  A terrible shiver went down Beatrice’s spine as she thought she had been lured into a house by a psychopath who would slaughter them. She took a step back, ready to bolt at the slightest uncanny demeanor from Romero.

  “Aargh. Easy…” Jason groaned.

  “Sorry…” Beatrice said and let go of his hand.

  Romero chuckled, “I get that you are still scared of me. But I owe you for saving my life,” he looked at her sincerely, “and as long as I’m breathing, I will never let anyone hurt you.” He said as he approached a creepy looking bookshelf.

  Beatrice blushed and Jason could feel her relax next to him. Apparently, she had a new hero… He rolled his eyes. Rachel would tell him to get lost. He wondered if she and Emma were okay. He frowned.

  Catherine…

  His heart rate increased as his daughter flooded his mind. Beatrice felt his body tense and looked at him, concerned about his painful expression.

  Could Romero have been the other masked man who was there the day she was shot?

  “Ah, got you.” Romero said softly and stood back.

  A whining sound came from the bookshelf and it turned, opening a pathway of seemingly endless steps going down.

  “Come on” Romero said and went down the passage.