IN THE LINE OF FIRE
THE COMPLETE SERIES
RHILEY MCCABE
Copyright © 2020 by Rhiley McCabe All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CHAPTER ONE
Thompson Federico was the most ruthless gangster in the neighborhood—well feared and well revered by rival gangs.
The previous week, he had killed one of his boys for going against his orders.
“Get rid of the kid who saw you dumping the body.
How could you be so sloppy? You had one job! To dump the damn body!” He could barely contain his anger against the aspiring gangster boy.
Thompson’s boy paid him a visit. But when he got there, he pitied the kid and allowed him to escape. A week later, the kid’s body had been found floating on a river.
Thompson was a short, ape-like man. Wide shoulders and bowed, stocky legs made it look like he was skipping whenever he walked. He had enormous fists; a single punch could hit as hard as a train moving at full speed. At least, that’s what a few of his unruly, wannabe gangster boys once said.
3
BANG
Thompson sat upright and clutched his garden chair’s armrests.
Sirens. More gunshots.
There was a shoot-out between Thompson’s boys and the New York City Police Department outside his house.
“And so it ends…” He took a deep breath and scanned over his garden, contemplating how his reign had ended.
He had to get away. Not for himself—he didn’t care about his own life. But Emma… What would happen to Emma?
His bulky figure shot across the garden. He bolted to his room and grabbed two get-away bags from a secret compartment in the dressing room. One stuffed to the brim with Dollars; the other contained three fake pass-ports, clothes, and his trusty Colt M1911A1, nicknamed Gov.
“Thompson Federico, we’ve got you surrounded!” A voice boomed over a megaphone.
He stiffened as he reached for the living room door leading to the garden.
What am I going to do now? If they catch me, I’ll be killed by my enemies in prison. If I go out fighting, I’ll be shot dead.
Either way, I’m about to kiss my life goodbye.
He eyed his fully loaded 1928 Tommy, beautifully displayed on a custom wooden shelf against the rear wall of the living room. He clenched his teeth.
Yes. I’ll go out spraying and praying like the gangsters from the 30s. What a poetic way to die.
4
As he took hold of his Tommy, he thought about Emma.
She was his only concern. What would become of her?
At least no one knew of her existence...
“Drop the gun!” Thompson rolled his eyes at the sound of an all too familiar voice.
“I don’t like your smug voice, Detective Williams.”
Thompson said calmly as he turned around and moved to fire the Tommy.
The marble floor knocked out his breath. The intense ringing in his ear was much worse than the pain from the gunshot wound in his right arm. He struggled to his knees while Detective Jason Williams kicked the Tommy away from him and told Mary, his partner, to bag it for evidence.
“You missed, asshole!” Thompson wiped blood from the right side of his head. He realized why his ear was ringing so badly—Jason had fired two shots earlier, and one bullet took off a piece of his ear.
“If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be talking right now, little man.” Jason grabbed Thompson’s right arm and pulled him to his feet.
“AAAH.”
“Thompson Federico, you are under arrest for the murders of John Miller, Jack Taylor, and Kendall Johnson; and for the possession and sale of illegal narcotics.”
Jason handcuffed Thompson and forcefully led him out of the house. Once outside, he shoved him into a police car.
“Get a paramedic to clean him up and then take him away.” Jason slammed the door. He stared at Thompson through the window and smirked. Thompson stared back with murderous eyes.
5
Finally, a three-year chase was over. Jason could pinch himself. He had gotten tired of what had become a wild goose chase. The damn thug slipped away with every encounter they ever had. Thompson had always been a step ahead.
Until that call came in.
“Detective Williams.”
“I can give you Thompson Federico.” Jason could barely hear the woman’s tremulous voice.
“Who is this?”
“Don’t mind who I am.” She cleared her throat as if she was trying to shake off the nervousness, “Meet me at the Chinese restaurant downtown.”
“Hold on a min... Hello?”
Jason let out a deep sigh. This had better be good. Then again, anything to put that despicable, low-class bastard behind bars would be worth the stress.
He threw on his jacket and raced downstairs to his car.
It was already getting dark when he got to the Chinese restaurant. He checked his wristwatch: 20:45. The place was uncomfortably crowded. His eyes scanned, but he had no idea who or what he was looking for. The sudden buzz from his phone startled him.
“Detective Wi...”
“I am in the corner to your right.”
His eyes followed her instruction. His heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Women made him uncomfortable—gorgeous ones, even more so. He straightened his back and approached cautiously.
“Good evening,” he tried in a modulated tone.
6
Come on Jason, that sounded pathetic... You’re here to work, idiot!
She stared at him.
Am I making a mistake? What if they cannot protect my daughter? I will be the one responsible if anything happens to her. How could I live with myself then?
Jason stared back, unable to escape her mesmerizing emerald eyes. She released him and scanned the restaurant while fidgeting with her hands on the table. He finally removed a chair and sat down.
“You said you can give me Federico. What do you have?”
“I have information that would put him in your hands.”
She scanned the room again.
“Are you expecting someone?” Jason looked around too.
“Just being cautious. It’s not every day you get to double-cross the most feared gangster in the city and live to tell the tale.” The spell of her beauty broke.
I nvolved with the devil himself, eh?
“All right, tell me.”
“I want full immunity.” She shifted and leaned over the table, “And protection... for my kid.” She looked at him beggingly.
“That depends on the information you have,” he admonished and looked away.
He couldn’t understand why he felt sorry for her.
She chose this life and exposed her child to it. Why the hell should I care what happens to her or her kid? Besides, I have to follow procedure; I can’t promise immunity without concrete information.
7
Jason glared at the woman with a mix of irritation and pity while she fidgeted with her hands on the tabletop.
He got up. “This is a waste of time.”
“All right!” She looked up at him as if she was under duress.
“You contacted me.” He hit the table with his palm and leaned over with his broad figure. The woman rolled her eyes at his di
splay, sat back, and folded her arms.
She then signaled with her head that he should sit down.
“A few years back, Thompson visited a club where I was working...”
“A club?”
“A gentlemen’s club.” She looked away.
“Go on.” Jason took out his notebook and started writing.
“He took a liking in me. Paid a lot of money for a private session...” she shifted and looked around the restaurant.
“After that, he made me an offer.”
“What kind of offer?”
“He wanted me to be his girlfriend. In exchange, I could have everything I ever wanted. Fancy clothes, a home, proper food... The sort of things girls like me could only dream of.” She looked around again before staring at the table.
“Sold my soul to the devil.” Tears welled up in her beautiful eyes as she took a deep breath.
Jason shifted uncomfortably as his heart softened.
Poor girl.
8
“I ignored his activities as best I could. But as the years went by, his cruelty increased. And then...” She trailed off, quietly sobbing.
“It’s okay, tell me everything you know. We’ll get him for whatever he’s done wrong,” Jason encouraged her softly.
“A few days ago I went to visit him at a warehouse where he stores drugs,” she wiped tears from her cheeks,
“I had barely entered when I heard a gunshot. My heart almost stopped—I thought an angry rival had gotten in and killed him.” She reached for a tissue in her purse, lightly wiped her nose and cleared her throat.
“Here you are though, betraying him…” Jason looked up, embarrassed. The thought slipped out.
“So?”
Jason cleared his throat, “So, I’m just wondering,” he scratched his head with the pen in his hand, “if your heart almost stopped because you thought he was dead, why are you snitching on him now?”
“My concern wasn’t for him. It was for…” She sighed.
“For someone who needs his protection.”
Jason nodded intently as he continued taking notes.
“When I got close, I saw Thompson…”
“Back up a bit. Who is he protecting?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Jason dropped the pen and notepad and threw his arms in the air. He looked at her incredulously.
“What?”
“You want immunity, but you refuse to cooperate. It doesn’t work that way.”
“It’s not relevant to your case.”
9
“The hell it isn’t!” He noticed a few people looking at him.
He took a deep breath to calm himself, “If Thompson is protecting a fellow thug…”
“She’s not a thug. It’s nothing like that,” the woman replied in a brittle tone. Jason saw new tears forming in her eyes.
“Who?” His patience was wearing thin.
“My daughter. She’s seven.” The woman’s reply took Jason aback.
“Why would he protect your daughter?”
“I’m not saying anything more about her without that immunity agreement.”
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Tell me what you know.” He released his nose, “If your information is any good, I’ll arrange for your immunity agreement.”
The woman nodded.
“As I was saying… When I got close, I saw Thompson standing over a body. He still had the gun in his hand—
killed one of his own boys...” Tears welled up again.
Jason looked up from his notepad and pointed at her with his pen, “You’ve been with the guy for years. You’re telling me you didn’t know he killed people?”
“Of course I knew,” she sniffed and gave him a piercing look, “but I’ve never seen him do it. And this time it was different. Jack was just a kid; he was kind.”
“Are you willing to make a statement?”
“Give me immunity and protect my kid. Then I’ll do anything you want.”
10
Ever since he could remember, Jason had wanted to be an officer. Just like his dad.
When he was twelve, Jason’s father died in the line of fire. He and his patrol partner were notified of a bank robbery, and they were the closest. The robbers were headed to their get-away car when they saw the lone police vehicle approaching. They opened fire.
Jason’s dad’s partner located the killers after months of searching. Back then, they still enforced capital punishment for killing a police officer in New York, and all three men who were involved in the shooting paid the ultimate price. Jason was there for the execution.
Since then, he’d had an unstoppable urge to bring all criminals to justice. If he couldn’t get Federico and those like him, he’d be a failure.
“Well, now...” Jason said amused as he entered the interrogation room, “This suits you just fine, little man.”
Mary entered behind Jason and shut the door.
Thompson looked up at Jason with menacing eyes.
“Should’ve killed me when you had the chance, Detective Williams.” Thompson’s normally raucous tone had turned tight.
“Says the man handcuffed to the iron table.” Mary added. She had a monotonous demeanor—never showed emotion when she talked or moved.
Jason opened a brown envelope and slid a photograph over the table to Thompson.
11
“Who is this?” Thompson examined it with mock scrutiny.
“I have never seen this man before.” He slid the photograph back to Jason.
“Mm...” Jason took out another photograph and slid it over, “How about this cutie?” He sat back with folded arms.
Thompson stared at a young girl in a yellow dress with black polka dots; her happy, innocent eyes stared back at him.
“How did you...” Thompson tried to get up with all his might. When he realized he was going nowhere, he thundered his fists on the iron table.
“Never mind how. If I could do it, so can your rivals. I’m sure you appreciate the gravity of the situation.”
“I will end you.”
“Look around, little man! I’ve ended you. The only place you’re going with the evidence I’ve got against you is jail. And you have a lot more enemies than friends in there.”
Thompson scoffed. “And you think I’m scared of them?”
“Absolutely not. But you’re scared for her.” Jason pointed at the little girl in the photograph, “What will happen to her when you’re murdered in jail?”
“What do you want?!” Thompson barked.
Jason calmly slid the other photograph over and tapped on it while he and Thompson glared at each other.
“I told you, I don’t know the man. I’ve never seen him before!”
12
Jason got up and walked around the table to Thompson.
“Federico, I’ll tell you again… If I could find Emma, anyone can.” He bowed down and whispered in his ear,
“You don’t want the wrong people to discover you have a daughter, do you?”
13
CHAPTER TWO
Carlos Rodrigues leaned against the balcony railings and watched his Chinese gardener work magic down below. He drew thoughtfully on his Cohiba Black Churchill cigar, allowed the flavors to play around in his mouth, and blissfully released the smoke through his nostrils.
On the outside, he was an imposing man: tall and muscular; his shiny, curly hair was always neatly combed to the back. He liked to dress nice, too. It’s something he learned from his old man before he died—
always look your best. Strangers liked him well enough, despite his less-than-ideal facial features. But he was proud of his scars. Every one of them reminded him of his victories.
Twenty years ago, Carlos was just another scrawny drop-out teenager on the streets of Ciudad Neza. Mamá wanted him to be a basketball player, always said he had the right body for it. The dream sounded cool and all, but dreams weren’t going to put food
on the table in in one of the poorest cities in Mexico.
14
He pursued drug money instead. It paid.
He joined the Jiménez Cartel and told Mamá he’d joined a basketball team. That way, he didn’t have to explain why he wasn’t at home most days. When she asked where the money for food came from, he’d tell her he did odd jobs for his basketball friends’ parents.
He rose through the Jiménez ranks quickly. He had an uncanny enthusiasm to make money. More than that, though, he was ruthless. He never hesitated to do what they expected. He’d kill his best friend, if that’s what they wanted. Anything to get ahead.
Within ten years he became the second-in-command of the cartel.
Then Diego, the cartel leader, got himself in trouble with Leo Martinez.
Leo supplied drugs to the whole North America and Mexico; he was not the kind of man to swindle. Diego tried anyway, and Leo found out about it.
One fine day, Carlos received a call and met with the big man himself.
“I know you are an ambitious kid,” Leo said as his butler put down a bottle of Barrique de Ponciano Porfidio tequila on the table. Carlos lifted an eyebrow at the bottle. He had made his fair share of money by then, but not that kind of money.
“Your boss crossed me.” He poured some tequila for himself and Carlos. He picked up one glass and brought it up to his nose. He closed his eyes as he took in the mellow oak aroma.
“Jiménez needs a new leader.” He held the glass out to Carlos, who took it from him slowly and nodded his head in a thanks. He mimicked Leo by holding the glass 15
up to his nose to take in the aroma while he kept eye contact with Leo, as if to say, “I’m listening.”
“Get rid of Diego and you’ll be that new leader.” Leo picked up the other glass of tequila, “You’ll be one of the most powerful men in the underworld. And, of course,”
he held up his glass to Carlos, “one of the richest.”
Carlos held up his glass too. “Done.”
He drank his tequila before Leo’s glass reached his mouth.
“I want an untraceable gun.” He put the empty glass on the table and slouched back in his chair.
Leo squinted his eyes and made a skew smile. He snapped his fingers and his butler appeared. Leo whispered something in his ear, and the butler promptly disappeared.
“I hope you’re as smart as you’re ambitious, kid,” Leo drank the last of his tequila and put the glass on the table, “don’t try anything like Diego did. You won’t live long enough to regret it.”
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