Waves of Disaster Read online

  IN THE LINE OF FIRE

  WAVES OF DISASTER

  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.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  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 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?”

  “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 ferociously 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 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.

  “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.

  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 wa
s 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.”

  Badrick interrupted Leo and Thomas’ staring competition, “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 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…”

  “Spit it out!” Leo snapped. Thomas’ gave him an annoyed glance.

  “They’re at the same location, just outside of town. If you move now, you could have time to surprise them.”

  “You heard him,” Leo said, turning to Badrick and Carlos. “Get on with it.” He turned back to Thomas, “Get dressed. You’re coming, too.”

  Thomas burst out in laughter, “I’m not going anywhere.” He crossed his arms. He was no longer scared of Leo. Seeing him with his wounded shoulder, being nervous all night, made him realize that Leo was just a big fish trying to get away from an even bigger fish.

  “You can clean up your own mess.”

  Badrick and Carlos looked at Thomas with shock. Leo stood up; the other two got up slowly after him.

  “What did you say?” Leo asked in a reserved but sinister voice.

  “This is not my problem. I gave you everything you needed to get rid of Jason Williams,” Thomas pointed a finger at Leo, “but you screwed it up with every chance you got. Now, you and I,” He motioned between himself and Leo, “we have a deal. I get you out of tight spots and share relevant information. I will not do your job, too.”

  Leo charged forward, his hand already in the air to hit Thomas, but he halted as Thomas grabbed a gun from underneath his gown and pointed it at his face. Instinctively, Badrick grabbed and pointed his own gun at Thomas. Carlos stood next to him in silence, waiting for the situation to play itself out.

  “Come on, Martinez. Take one more step…” Thomas said, breathing rapidly.

  “WOW. Look at the Chief!” He gestured toward Thomas with open arms, laughed, and turned to Badrick and Carlos. Carlos let out a little smile. Badrick just kept his gun aimed at Thomas.

  “When did you grow a pair?”

  Thomas smirked and put his finger on the trigger. Leo raised an eyebrow. “Carlos!”

  “Yeah, jefe?”

  “Get the coordinates from this fool.” He turned his back on Thomas and walked toward the door, “I'll start the car. Badrick, come with me.”

  When Leo and Badrick had gone outside, Thomas walked to the table where they had been sitting before and threw the gun down in frustration.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” Carlos said calmly as he waited for Thomas to write the coordinates.

  “He has no right treating me as if I’m the problem. I’ve only ever covered his ass.”

  Thomas’ frustration made sense to Carlos. If there was one thing he could not tolerate, it was disrespect. And he didn’t like the way Leo had been treating Thomas, either. If he had the Chief of Police on his side, he’d treat him as an ally rather than a lapdog. It would make better business sense.

  “He’ll send Badrick after you.” Carlos said as Thomas handed him the paper.

  “Why are you telling me?”

  “I don’t think he appreciates the asset you are…”

  Thomas chuckled, “And you do?”

  “Of course. Men like us, we need men like you. I’m not too proud to say it.” Carlos shrugged his shoulders.

  “Thank you.” Thomas said, observing Carlos cautiously.

  “Watch your back, man.” Carlos said as he walked away.

  Leo was fuming when Carlos climbed in the car. He ignored Leo’s deadly stare and confidently proceeded to enter the coordinates in the GPS. As they drove off, Leo noticed Carlos glancing at him.

  “What?!” He exploded, “What is it?!”

  “I know you’re upset about that asshole, jefe.” Carlos said, “but we can’t be bothered about him right now. It’ll be light in a few hours, so we need to focus on getting this job done.”

  “Do I look stupid, that you’re telling me what needs to be done?”

  “I apologize. Now, about Romero.”

  “What about him?”

  “What will we do about him? He’s dangerous…”

  “They don’t know we’re coming, so we can surprise him. When we get there and confront them, everyone must focus on him first. Once he’s out of the way, taking care of that cop will be easy.” Leo glanced in the rearview mirror, “Did you get that, Badrick?”

  “Yes, mon.”

  “I don’t want you to be a liability. Do you feel all right after the whiskey you enjoyed so thoroughly?”

  Badrick chuckled, “I’m an even better shot when I’ve had a few… shots” He roared of laughter at his own joke. Leo just shook his head and stepped on the accelerator.

  “Whoa… They’re moving!” Ruiz said, tapping on the GPS screen.

  “Where to?” Tate asked.

  “In our direction.”

  “Shit!” Tate slowed down and pulled the car off the road. The car that had been following them did the same. He reversed the car slightly and turned it around, “We’ll wait until they go past us. Tell your associates.”

  Ruiz took out his phone and dialed a number, “Be ready to follow when we fall in the road again.”

  After Tate had picked him up, Ruiz contacted four men to join them. The first was Philo, a six-foot soldier-turned-mercenary from Greece. He had been working with the Blood Brothers just over a year and had recently settled in the USA. Hearing of Rico’s death had outraged him, and he vowed that he would hunt the killers down with Ruiz.

  The second man was Tobi, a reserved Nigerian who was smuggled into the country as a little boy. Shortly after arriving, his father died in a crossfire between two gangs. He was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. A gangster lord took him in and taught him how to survive. As a youn
g man, he too became a gangster lord. But the politics drove him mad. He took on an assassination project by chance one day and found it more satisfying than dealing with unruly gangsters every day. Soon after, he changed careers and became one of the best—on par with the likes of Romero Sanchez. He didn’t know Rico, but he enjoyed revenge-type tasks.

  Then there was Philip—a Canadian without a past. Cold-blooded, expressionless and effective… That’s what everyone knew him for. He enjoyed a steady flow of lucrative assassination tasks because he never asked questions, never fussed and always got the job done. He went along for the reward.

  Matthew, a sadistic psychopath with an incredible aptitude for knife-fighting, went along too. It shocked Tate and the other three men when they found out he was also on the team. He was a loose cannon that no one could trust—famous for killing more associates than any other assassin. When Philo, Tobi and Philip heard he was coming, they refused to ride with him, so he got in the back seat of Tate’s car. Ruiz told Tate to be calm. Apparently, he knew how to handle the crazy guy…

  “Wait…” Ruiz mumbled.

  “What is it?”

  “They’ve stopped.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, they must’ve pulled over or something.”

  “Damn it! If Leo gets away, we’re all done for.” Matthew gasped and started chanting something incoherent. Tate eyed him suspiciously before looking to Ruiz, who gave him a reassuring nod. “We’ll drive in that direction slowly; tell me when to stop.”

  “Mm.” Ruiz affirmed.

  The car behind them followed suit like a shadow. Ruiz called Philo and told him they should be on the lookout for any parked cars along the roadside.

  “There must be a hidden slipway somewhere here, that’s the only…”

  “There, there, there!” Matthew interrupted Ruiz with excited shouting, smashing a fist against the window. He roared like a Viking.

  Tate’s eyebrow shot up as he pulled over to where Matthew was directing, “Is he going to make a noise when we go after them?” He stared at Matthew with disdain in the rearview mirror.