In The Line of Fire Boxset 5 Books in 1 (Thriller Stories To Keep You up all Night)

by Rhiley McCabe

  “I’m at home.” Thomas muttered.

  “What? Where did you say?”

  “I said I am at home.” Thomas said through grated teeth.

  “All right, we’re staying with you for a while.”

  “Whoa! Leo, you can’t do that. And who are we?”

  “We’ll be there soon.” Leo said and hung up.

  Thomas smashed his phone into the wall and started pacing, wondering how he would explain a guest like Leo and whoever else was tagging along to his wife. He thought about how he could protect his teenage daughter from all this. Perhaps he’d send her to a friend’s house for a few days.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Thomas swung around. His wife was leaning against the doorway with a worried expression. He smiled and gently approached her.

  “Yeah,” He stroked her arm, “I didn’t mean to wake you.

  I’m sorry.” He kissed her on the forehead and told her he was expecting company. This was nothing unusual, and so she didn’t ask questions. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek before going back to bed.

  All too soon, there was an eerie honk outside. He rushed out of his house and opened the garage door for them to drive in. As Thomas locked the gate, he scanned the street.

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  As the men got out of the car, Thomas stared at Carlos, who smiled arrogantly and gave him a nod. He didn’t know the Jamaican.

  “The judge didn’t tell me they let you go.”

  Carlos and Badrick burst out in laughter, “We took liber-ties and helped move the process along…” Badrick added in an elated voice.

  Thomas lifted an eyebrow at Leo, “You brought a convicted, escaped criminal to the Chief of Police’s house? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Don’t make your problem mine…” Leo scoffed and looked around the garage. He grunted as the pain from the gunshot wound started taking its toll.

  Thomas ground his teeth, wondering why he ever joined the underworld. It all seemed worthless now.

  “I’m Badrick,” The Jamaican approached and extended a hand. Thomas took his hand, shook it just once, and gave him a stern nod.

  “You three will stay in the flat at the back of the house. If you enter my house, I’ll kill every one of you.” He warned. “Now, why are you here?”

  “Your Detective escaped. We need to…”

  “What? He’s alive?”

  “Shut up!” Leo hissed in a murderous tone.

  “But you said you would handle…”

  Leo’s solid right fist hit him on his lower left jaw. He staggered to the ground, looking up at Thomas with disgust.

  “I said you should shut the hell up!” Leo shouted on Thomas.

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  “I’m sorry,” Thomas muttered, but he bit his lips, infuriated that Leo would hit him after so many years of covering his ass. He’d grown too sure of himself, and he needed to be taught a lesson, Thomas thought. He stood up from the ground and gestured to the men to go outside while rubbing over his jaw.

  “Let’s get your wound patched up inside.”

  “Tate Mike is after me. If I can get to Jason first, The Syndicate will be off my back. But I don’t know how to get to Jason before Tate gets to us.” Leo said as they walked across the lawn to the flat.

  “Why don’t we track him down?” Thomas suggested as he unlocked the flat.

  He let Leo and his companions enter first. Badrick whis-tled as he observed the lavish, fully furnished flat.

  “I can ask the computer geeks at the department to get their locations for us.” Thomas continued.

  Why didn’t I think of this? Leo thought to himself as he eyed Thomas.

  “Get on with it then.” He snapped.

  He sat down on a chair and took off his shirt; Carlos cleaned the wound.

  Thomas wanted to say something but restrained himself.

  He moved to the telephone and dialed a number. Privi-leges came with being the Chief of Police; the phone rang for about a second or two when a shrill voice came on the line.

  “Who is calling me so early in the morning?” The woman’s voice boomed over the receiver. Even Badrick, who was across the room, heard it and chuckled.

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  “This is captain Thomas.” Thomas said with a snap in his voice—yes, Leo could push him around… But he could push people around, too. He silently reveled in the fact that Leo needed his help.

  “Oh, captain Thomas, what makes you call so early in the morning?” She asked, adjusting her tone.

  “I want you to find to someone for me. It’s urgent.” He said hurriedly.

  “No problem. Let me have their phone number.” She said.

  “You don’t look surprised.”

  “We know about them already. But how do we get to them?” Jason asked.

  “How? They’re a well-guarded secret.”

  “Nope… All criminals are sloppy at some point—The Syndicate is no exception. And they’ve been quite sloppy lately…” Beatrice said.

  “I’m not sloppy.”

  “Oh, really? Is that why you ended up needing my care all those years ago?”

  “Hey, focus!” Jason snapped, pulling the other two out of their walk down memory lane.

  “How do we get to them, Romero?”

  “You don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “What? Don’t you ever contact them?”

  “It all happens faceless. Every contract, every payment…

  It’s always done on encrypted servers.”

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  Jason looked to Beatrice, “Can you break in?”

  “I, uh…”

  “You’re not pulling her into this.”

  “She’s the one who found them in the first place!”

  Romero eyed her, impressed. She smiled slightly, “It’s true. My brother became suspicious about certain activities a few years ago, and together we started tracking and linking seemingly unrelated events. At first, we thought The Syndicate was just a buzzword. As we gathered more intel, we realized they were the ones orches-trating everything. But Walter, he dug too deep and…”

  “What happened?” Romero asked, concerned.

  “He was murdered.” Jason interrupted their moment,

  “Shot with incredible precision in the middle of a busy Chinese restaurant.”

  Romero looked at Jason with a frown; he recognized the challenge in his eyes. He realized that Jason knew it was him who killed Beatrice’s brother. But there was something else in his eyes.

  “You have a problem or something?” He asked Jason.

  “You mean besides the fact that I’m having a merry drinking party with the assassin who was hired to kill me?” Jason smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn’t ready to confront him about Catherine yet.

  Romero chuckled, “Well, this is a first for me, too.” He looked at Beatrice, “I’m sorry about your brother.”

  There was sincerity in his voice. If only she knew he was apologizing and not sharing his condolences…

  “Thank you,” she smiled politely.

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  “I should contact my superior; he’ll know what to do with all this intel.” Jason stuck his hand into his pocket and started dialing a number.

  “Put that phone down.” Romero flew up from his seat and grabbed it out of Jason’s hand.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “You can’t call your superior.”

  “The hell I can’t! Give me my phone back.”

  “He’s one of them.” Romero said plainly and put the phone down on the coffee table.

  Jason stared at him as if he spoke in an unfamiliar language.

  “Oh, you missed that part, eh? Your beloved District Attorney is a Syndicate Member. And he’s desperately trying to kill Leo Martinez, another Syndicate member, who’s desperately trying to kill you.”

  “That’s bullshit…”

  “Yeah? Fine then,” Romero picked up Jason’s phone and threw it to him, “call him
. Let’s see if you last the night.”

  “I..”

  “What is that?” Beatrice squeaked.

  “What’s what?” Romero asked.

  “That dull beeping sound… Don’t you hear it?”

  “Shit!”

  TO BE CONTINUED

  Click here to read the fifth book in the series right now.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Ruiz paced up and down in his shabbily furnished apartment. He wasn’t used to being there alone. It felt ghostly without Rico. Unreal… He couldn’t fathom how one of the world’s top assassins could die so…

  unceremoniously.

  Don’t worry brother, I’ll get those assholes who killed you… I swear it!

  Ruiz and Rico were light-skinned Mexicans. Both had American ancestry, so they looked more American than Mexican—hence their aliases: Jack Freidman and Paul Parker. Looking like regular Americans had its perks. It had always been easy to forge their identities, and cops never treated them as suspects whenever there were incidents.

  Most people mistook them for blood brothers. In reality, they met by chance when they both wanted to sneak into the US over the border. They hit it off immediately, realizing how they shared the same interests—a mutual 197

  thirst for blood being the glue that sealed their bond.

  And so they became the Blood Brothers.

  Rico was more cool-headed. He had always protected Ruiz, even from himself.

  He felt a fresh surge of anger well up inside as he recalled Rico’s lifeless body falling to the ground like a shot animal. They were supposed to be invincible…

  Ruiz felt his phone vibrating in his pants. He sighed and continued to pace, ignoring the buzz. A moment later, it buzzed again.

  “Who the hell is this?!”

  “Come outside. We’re going on a hunt.”

  Ruiz frowned. It had only been two or three hours since Tate dropped him off. He put the phone down and headed to the patio. Sure enough, he looked down on Tate, who was leaning against his car—cigar in one hand

  —and waving Ruiz over. He hurried inside, strapped up and grabbed his guns.

  “What the hell, man?” Ruiz said as he approached Tate, who opened the driver’s door and climbed inside the car,

  “I haven’t even taken a shower.” He opened the passenger door and sprang inside.

  “Are you complaining?” Tate asked, half amused.

  “I, uh…” Ruiz wasn’t used to a comical Tate.

  “I told you I’d find them.” The car roared to life as Tate flashed a brilliant smile. Ruiz lifted an eyebrow.

  “What do you mean he escaped?” Shawn Donald bellowed, “When did you become so incompetent?”

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  “I’ll fix it,” was all Tate could mumble while looking to the ground like a son who had disappointed his father.

  Shawn was his dear friend. Being insulted like that was painful. But his friend was also the leader of The Syndicate. A demon disguised in an innocent sixty-something-old man; he was not to be messed with. Tate knew that Donald would kill him personally without thinking twice if it meant protecting his empire. It was a fragile friendship, built on mutual respect and a one-sided hint of fear. Still, Tate cherished it…

  “This is ridiculous!” Shawn hissed, coming up close to Tate, “You haven’t taken the position yet, but you’re messing it up already. My associates might not want you in Leo’s place after hearing this.” He shook his head fero-ciously and put his arms on his hips. Tate eyed the pistol winking at him from underneath Shawn’s jacket.

  “Then don’t tell them.” Tate tried assertively, “Just tell them there’s been a hiccup and that I’m on it.”

  Shawn gave him a deadly stare.

  “Shawn, this is an easy fix. I’ll make it right.”

  “You had better!” Shawn spat. Tate’s eyes fell to the ground again. “Tate, you are my friend. We’ve been through a lot.” He sighed, “But don’t think you’ll be better off than Leo Martinez if you don’t bring me good news.”

  “A threat?” Tate thought out loud.

  “Business, son, business…”

  After the meeting, Tate headed straight to Blaise’s house

  —a D.A. tech genius. When he parked outside the house, he scanned the vicinity for a few minutes.

  He rang the doorbell twice and knocked another three times before the door flung open. Blaise, who was 199

  normally a pale-faced man, was scarlet. Visible anger turned to confusion.

  “Mister Mike? Sir?” He scratched his head, “What…” He frowned, looked around outside and gestured that Tate should enter.

  “Blaise, I need a favor.” Tate said hurriedly.

  “Now? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “It’s urgent and, well… Kind of embarrassing, really.”

  Blaise rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn, “Yeah?”

  “You know my daughter, right? Christie?”

  Blaise’s annoyance returned. Everyone who worked for Tate knew his brat. He just stared at Tate.

  “I haven’t been able to reach her since she left home this morning. As you know, she’s my only child. And I’m worried about her.”

  Blaise wanted to feel concern for his boss, but he just didn’t like his daughter—perhaps because of the drama that happened the day he accidentally spilled coffee on her—it was a day Blaise wanted to forget badly.

  “Give me her number,” he grumbled indifferently. “I’ll find her, even if her phone is switched off.”

  “Oh, what a relief.” Tate took out his phone and notepad.

  His finger tapped on the phone a few times before he scribbled on the notepad. He double-checked the phone and notepad before he tore off the paper and handed it over.

  “You don’t know her number by heart?” Blaise took the paper and sat down behind his laptop. “That’s weird…”

  He commented as his fingers moved around rapidly on the keyboard.

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  “Done.”

  “Huh?”

  “Check your phone. I’ve sent your daughter’s live location.”

  “No wonder they call you Blaise!” Tate said excitedly as he checked his phone, “Thank you. You just made a father happy.” He briskly headed toward the door.

  “Sure…”

  “Was there something else, Mister Mike?” Blaise asked when Tate halted at the door. His boss turned around with a pistol aimed at him.

  “W—What are you doing?”

  Blaise’s face became red. Before he could step back, his body fell to the ground with a hollow thud. His fall was more audible than the gunshots.

  Tate rushed back to his car. As soon as he moved in behind the wheel, he felt a calmness sweep over him. He could barely believe his good fortune—how easy it had been to find Leo’s location. He immediately recognized Thomas Patrick’s address when he entered the coordinates Leo’s cellphone gave off.

  “Oh… It’s over now, Martinez.” Tate said as he drove to Ruiz’s.

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  CHAPTER TWO

  Leo stretched his arm, holding onto his shoulder as if his hand would still the throbbing pain. Carlos lounged on a nearby chair, humming some tune like a broken record. Thomas paced, halting every few seconds to eye Carlos. He wanted to shout at him to shut up. But the tension in the room was tangible, and a squeak from any of them could spell out war… Save for Badrick, who was sleeping like a baby on a sofa in the far corner.

  They were still waiting for Thomas’ contact at the NYPD

  to get back with a positive trace.

  “It was a dumb move, using your own workforce to trace one of your own cops.” Leo grumbled for the umpteenth time—as if he was in the mood for a dogfight.

  “It’ll be fine.” Thomas asserted, “I just gave her a number. She has no idea who she’s tracking. Besides, if we get rid of the detective, like you should have done, this will all be over; and nothing will lead back to us.”

 
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  Badrick interrupted Leo and Thomas’ staring competi-tion, “How about something to drink, mister police mon?” He stretched and yawned.

  “Good idea,” Thomas said while keeping his gaze on Leo, “stay here. I’ll be back.” He skulked to the door and disappeared.

  “When this is over, I want him dead.” Leo said matter-of-factly while staring at the closed door.

  Carlos ignored him. Badrick joined him at the table.

  “I’m free for the next few weeks. But he’s a big fish; it will cost you more than usual.” Badrick said while stroking his chin.

  “If he’s gone, who will be your bitch on the inside?”

  Carlos wanted to know.

  Leo chuckled, “Kid, you’re so smart sometimes… How’d you get yourself into that mess with Federico?”

  Carlos wanted to retort by asking Leo how he got into a mess with the Syndicate. But he knew it wasn’t the time.

  He’d learned a valuable lesson about letting his emotions get the better of him. While he was locked up, he had vowed to keep a cool head in the future—to make calculated decisions in every situation life threw at him. He wanted to be known as a dangerous man, a force to be reckoned with, but not a reckless one… If it wasn’t for him, Mario would still be alive. Like his kid brother, Mario’s death would haunt him forever.

  The flat door creaked open and Thomas reappeared with a bottle of whiskey and four whiskey glasses clinking precariously against one another. He carefully approached the table and put the items down, poured a decent amount into each glass and handed them out. Leo raised his glass half-heartedly and took a sip. Badrick gulped his whiskey in one go and immediately asked for 203

  more. After he asked for more a third time, Thomas gave him the bottle.

  Thomas’ phone buzzed and for a moment, everyone stared at each other. He smirked at Leo before answering.

  “Yes?” He stood up and slowly rocked from side-to-side as he listened. Leo gulped the rest of his whiskey and watched Thomas like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

  “Thank you, Margaret; excellent work.”

  Thomas hung up and checked his phone. The other three stared anxiously as he tapped and swiped the screen.

  “Well, that’s interesting…”