In The Line of Fire Boxset 5 Books in 1 (Thriller Stories To Keep You up all Night)
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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.
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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.
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“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 176
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!”
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“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.
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“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.
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.
Both Jason and Beatrice were stunned and stayed
—perplexed.
“Are you coming?” He called from somewhere.
They could no longer see him. Beatrice looked at Jason with wide eyes, as if waiting for his permission to move.
He gave a slight nod; they moved forward, slowly. His weight was getting heavier.
“Are you okay?”
“I need to sit down.”
“I think we’re almost there.” Beatrice encouraged.
The path led to an enormous underground room lavishly decorated with old weapons of war: spears, swords, 180
knight helmets, arrows… The rear wall was full of reproductions of old masters’ paintings. From the Mona Lisa to Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Romero said. “You’re going to be here for a while.”
Romero disappeared into a room. Beatrice helped Jason to a comfortable sofa. He all but plummeted into it, almost dragging her down with him.
“Sorry.” He blushed.
“Don’t worry about it, are you comfortable?” She fussed.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Beatrice retreated to a chair opposite him. She stared at him.
“What?” He grunted as he tried to move his hand around. His chest was also throbbing.
“What was that, earlier? You tensed up.”
Jason looked to the room where Romero had gone into.
“My daughter, I thought about her.” He sat up straight and leaned forward, “Aargh…” He took a breath,
“Maybe he…”
Romero reappeared with three glasses in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other, and a box underneath his arm. He put the glasses down on a table in the middle of the room and walked up to Jason, kneeling in front of him.
“We need to fix that up,” he pointed to Jason’s hand,
“you’ll get infected.”
He put the first aid kid on the ground beside him and took a hold of Jason’s hand.
“Ah!” Jason pulled back.
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Romero eyed him, “Don’t be a baby.” He held an open hand for Jason to bring his hand back.
“I could do it.” Beatrice offered, knowing she’d work much gentler.
“Don’t bother,” Romero said. It sounded like a threat, so Beatrice just sat like an obedient child.
Romero examined Jason’s hand, “It still looks okay. Now, count to three.”
“Huh?”
Romero tilted the vodka bottle and poured the alcohol over Jason’s wound. At first, he felt nothing. But when the vodka started working, he groaned loudly and wanted to curl into a bundle from the agony.
“You could have warned me.” Jason hissed.
“I did… The bullet went straight through. You’re lucky; we don’t have to scrape around in your hand for it.”
“If you hadn’t shot me—OW!”
Romero poured more vodka over his hand.
“Shit!” Jason exclaimed and looked away as if the pain would follow his gaze.
“Could you be more careful, mister assassin man? It sounds like he’s in a lot of pain…” Beatrice pleaded.
Finally, Romero stopped pouring. Jason inhaled deeply.
Romero scratched around in the first aid kit, revealing cotton balls and a bandage. He wiped away the blood and then placed clean ones on both sides of the wound.
He finally covered Jason’s hand with the bandage.
“There, you will get better in no time.” He said and slapped Jason on the shoulder.
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Jason just stared at him, infuriated with the mere idea that he could be looking at his daughter’s killer.
“That’s no way to look at the person who just saved your life.” Romero retorted as he moved toward the table where he had put the three glasses earlier. He poured vodka into each one. He handed a glass to Jason, who gulped it up as if his life depended on it.
“Oh, no, thank you,” Beatrice said as Romero held a glass out to her, “I don’t drink.”
“Just have a little. It will calm your nerves,” he said gently, still holding the glass for her to take.
She hesitated for a moment, but then took it. She frowned when she smelled nothing from sniffing it.
Carlos smiled at her innocence.
“Can I have more?”
“Sure” Romero turned to Jason and poured some more for him.
He finished it in one go. Beatrice took a sip. She sat back, swirling the colorless, odorless liquid in her glass.
“You said you would tell us about The Syndicate.” She said in a flat voice.
“Oh yeah,” Romero said. “The Syndicate, they issued the contract to kill you,” he looked at Jason, “it’s the most organized criminal system in the world.”
Tate walked out of Leo’s house. Leo followed him, with the Blood Brothers behind him.
There was no one around. Leo had sent his men home on Tate’s instructions earlier that evening. Now, he wished he hadn’t. He had no idea if Carlos would make it in 183
time; and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he could trust the hot-head to get the job done.
In the distance, a gunshot went off.
“Shit!” One of the Blood Brothers yelled, instinctively grabbing onto his arm.
Blood trickled through his fingers. Tate barked orders, and they immediately pulled out their guns.
A streak of bullets wheezed through the air, hitting one of them in the chest. His lifeless body hit the ground with a thud. At that, the remaining men sought cover, scattering in different directions.
“Jack!” The one brother called to the lifeless body surrounded by blood, “Jack! Jack!”
“Shut up, fool!”
Leo observed Tate and the remaining brother, calculating the distance between them and him. The brother, at least, was distracted. He’d struggle to take a clear shot at him.
Tate was another story. Earlier, Leo saw that he had a weapon on him, but he didn’t know if he was a sharp-shooter.
“You’d better be ready for me, Carlos.” He whispered.
He let out a loud shout, causing more bullets to fly in their direction. As soon as it subsided, he sprang up and dashed across the lawn.
“Hey! Come back here!” Tate demanded.
A shot came from behind, hitting him in the shoulder, halting his momentum. His survival instinct was too powerful to register the pain immediately. He was only a few feet away from the main gate. It would open auto-matically when he got near as it worked with biometric security. He grunted and ran again. He heard another 184
gunshot, but it missed him. When he was near the gate, it slid open.
“Get in!” Carlos screamed from the car parked outside the gate.
Leo smiled for a moment, not believing his own luck. He sprinted toward the car and got in. He was still closing the door when Carlos stepped on the accelerator, sending the car shooting into the night.
“Jack!” Paul wailed over his brother’s body.
Tate stood at a distance, waiting for the go-ahead from his te
ch guy. They were stuck in Leo’s premises. The advanced security system wouldn’t let them out, so he had to get a hacker to infiltrate the system to unlock the gates.
I’ll get you, Martinez…
“We must go after them.” Paul growled and rose to his feet.
“We will get them in due time.” Tate said and looked up as all the gates opened simultaneously. He gave a relieved sigh, “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll tell my boys to come and take your brother’s body.”
Paul followed Tate to the car they had arrived in earlier.
Tate walked around to look for damage but found none.
They climbed in, Tate behind the steering wheel.
“Where are we going?” Paul asked after a long silence.
“You go back to your house, I go back to mine. We’re done for tonight.” Tate said gently.
“What? And let those assholes be? They killed my brother!”
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“And we’ll get them for it.” Tate pulled the car off the road and turned around to face Paul, “I’ll contact you when we have a location. For now, let them think they’ve escaped. You’ll deal with them personally when the time comes, I guarantee it.”
“Okay,” Paul opened the car door, “Don’t keep me on a line. If I don’t hear from you within two days, I’ll hunt them down myself.” He got out and slammed the door.
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CHAPTER FIVE
“Urgh!” Thomas sat up in bed, trying to rub the tiredness away. He eyed his digital clock in disgust: 03:00 AM. His wife mumbled angrily.
He stood up and walked sluggishly to the desk where his phone was buzzing. He thought about how he was getting too old to answer midnight police calls. That’s why becoming a politician was a more attractive prospect…
“Yes?”
“Thomas, where are you?”
The voice woke him up like a bucket of ice-cold water.
Shivers ran up and down his spine. He looked over his shoulder to where his wife was now sleeping peacefully.
He opened the bedroom door softly to leave the room.
“Leo? What’s wrong?” He whispered.
“Where are you?” Leo barked. Thomas could hear the anxiety in his voice.
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“Are you kidding me? It’s the middle of the night.”
Thomas spoke louder. “What’s going on? You’ve never called me at this hour.”
“Don’t be smart! And don’t answer my questions with questions. I’ll cut your tongue out the next time I see you! Where are you?!”