“Beth! Beth, where are you?”
There was no answer.
Craig got his arms under himself and was soon on all fours. “What the hell happened?”
Tang went at him on a run and sent a kick into his face. Blood spurted from Craig’s nose and he fell back onto the floor and stopped moving.
When Tang called his wife again and received no reply, he went looking for her while fearing the worst. When he saw the kitchen chair jammed up against the door to the cupboard, he felt relief. No one tried to keep a dead woman from escaping, which meant his wife was alive.
Beth Tang was on the floor of the cupboard, unconscious, but breathing steadily. The left side of her face was bruised and swollen. Tang cursed the soul of the bastard that had harmed her.
After shedding his suit jacket, Tang bent down, lifted his wife in his arms, and carried her past Monty and Craig. He entered the bedroom and settled Beth atop their bed. After placing one of the guns on the table beside the bed, he shoved the other one in his waistband.
“Beth, Beth, wake up.”
She stirred, mumbled, but wouldn’t open her eyes. Tang reached for his phone, then he remembered Monty had taken it from him along with his wallet. He took out the gun and rushed into the living room to get his cell phone and call for an ambulance.
As his hand closed around his phone in Monty’s pocket, Tang sensed movement behind him. He tensed up and prepared to bring the gun around. It was knocked from his grip by a blow to the wrist that made his hand go numb.
An instant after that, Tang was struggling to stay alive as Wire slipped a garrote around his neck. He always carried a wire garrote with him and enjoyed using it, which is why he was called Wire.
“You hurt my brother, you son of a bitch. Now you’re going to die.”
Tang kicked backwards and made Wire’s right knee buckle, then he followed it by reaching back and raking his fingertips across Wire’s face, while attempting to gouge out an eye.
The garrote loosened and Tang broke free. As he turned to face Wire he was hit with a kick to his stomach that made him bend at the waist. Hard-won experience told Tang what to expect next. He blocked Wire’s second kick with his right forearm before it could strike his face.
Tang heard the bone in his arm break as he stumbled away from Wire and felt blinding pain. When he looked for the gun he’d been holding, he saw that it was near Wire’s feet.
Wire followed Tang’s gaze, kicked the gun away, and assumed a sideway fighting stance.
“I’m going to beat you to death.”
Tang had studied martial arts, yet he had not practiced it in years. He matched Wire’s stance while protecting his broken forearm. The pain was intense, but Tang did his best to ignore it. Wire sent a kick at Tang’s head but missed. Seeing an opening, Tang attempted to hit Wire in the throat. He was too slow, and Wire’s next kick connected with the nerve cluster beneath Tang’s outstretched arm.
It was followed by Wire sending a chop onto Tang’s damaged forearm. The older man let out a scream even as his feet were knocked out from under him. The taste of his own blood filled Tang’s mouth after Wire’s fist split his bottom lip open.
The next thing Tang knew, Wire was straddling him, while keeping his arms pinned by pressing his lower legs across Tang’s biceps, then his hands began to choke the life out of Tang.
Tang struggled, but the younger man was too much for him. As his vision began to fade, Wire let out a scream and leapt off him.
As Tang coughed and attempted to breathe through his constricted throat, he saw blood running down Wire’s side where a knife was sticking out. The blade had been thrown by the man moving toward Wire, a man Tang knew by the name of Tom Myers.
Tanner had arrived to play chess with Tang and saw the apartment door sitting open. As he got closer, he heard the sound of a struggle and looked inside to see a man strangling Tang. Although he carried no gun, Tanner possessed a knife. He flicked open the blade and let it fly, to strike Wire in his left side.
A quick assessment of the room told Tanner that Tang was hurt but not seriously, while two other men were unconscious and bleeding. There was a gun nearby, but it was in a corner of the room, and the man who’d been choking Tang was blocking the path to it.
Tang coughed and gasped for breath as he watched Wire pull the knife from his side while wincing in pain. A trickle of blood flowed from the wound, staining the leather vest and the white T-shirt beneath it. Wire paid it no mind, as again, he prepared to fight.
Tang watched in amazement as Tanner took the battle to Wire by delivering a kick to Wire’s left knee. Wire moved in while attempting a hip throw and Tanner leapt up and placed a scissor-lock around Wire’s neck.
As the two men fell to the floor, Wire connected with a fist that was meant for Tanner’s throat but only struck his shoulder. The two separated by rolling in opposite directions. Wire leapt to his feet, while Tanner had crouched to launch himself. He hit Wire with enough force to lift the man up and send him crashing against the brick façade of the gas fireplace.
Stunned, Wire was nevertheless fortunate, as his hand came to rest near a stand that held fireplace pokers. Although the pokers were ornamental they were real and made of cast iron. Wire rose and swung the poker at Tanner.
Tang was astonished by his neighbor as Tanner dodged Wire’s strike with lupine grace, as if the younger man was moving in slow motion.
When the fifth such swing was attempted in vain accompanied by a cry of frustration, Tanner moved inside the thrusting arm and delivered an elbow to the side of Wire’s head. The poker dropped to the floor as Wire fell to his knees. Tanner moved behind Wire, surrounded his neck with one arm while gripping his head with the other, then jerked his arms in opposite directions.
Bones cracked loudly, and Wire’s body hit the floor, spasmed twice, then went still.
Tanner left Wire, claimed his knife, then used its tip to pick the gun up from the floor without touching it. Afterward, he moved over to check on Tang. Tang was looking at him as if he had just sprouted wings and flown around the room.
“How bad off are you?” Tanner asked, as he put the gun near Tang.
Tang’s voice was raspy as he answered, and his words were slurred because of his split lip.
“I’ll be fine, but they hurt Beth. I need to call an ambulance.”
“How bad is she?”
“One of them punched her and knocked her out. Beth needs to be looked at by a doctor.”
“And the girls?”
“They weren’t here, thank God.”
Tanner saw a phone lying near the unconscious Monty and grabbed it. He recognized it as Tang’s phone. It had fallen from Monty’s pocket as Tang was attacked by Wire.
Tanner locked eyes with Tang.
“I was never here. Do you understand? I don’t want you talking to the police about me. Make up any scenario you need to but leave my name out of this.”
Tang reached out and gripped Tanner’s arm.
“You saved my life. I won’t say a word.”
Tanner looked past the open doorway and into the hall as Tang dialed for help.
“Where are your other neighbors?”
“The McCarrons are on holiday in Venice, and old Mrs. Gray is nearly deaf.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Tanner said, and left Tang’s apartment. He took the seldom-used stairs up to his penthouse and stripped off his clothes before entering. After a shower, he would dress and go out to dispose of the clothing he wore while at Tang’s place. Wire’s blood must have gotten on him and he couldn’t risk the chance that the police would tie him to Wire’s body, even if the blood evidence was no more than a speck.
Sara was off visiting her sister, who had given birth to a baby girl they’d named Emily. When Sara returned home, Tanner would have an interesting story to tell her.
101
Three For The Price Of One
UTAH, AUGUST 2001, 6:27 a.m.
On Saturday night
a storm passed through the region where the deacons lived. The stream where Spenser and the boys met up was running higher and faster than Cody remembered it being only two days earlier.
Although the sky still held scattered clouds, the sunrise was visible, and the day promised to be a hot one. And yet, another storm was due, and so the dry weather wouldn’t last.
Spenser, Cody, and Romeo each arrived in a stolen vehicle. Given that their targets should be easy to kill, Cody expected to be done within an hour. He had stolen a jeep from the parking lot of a supermarket where the night crew would be working until eight a.m.
Cody was considering putting the vehicle back in the lot before its owner realized it was missing. He and Romeo had both stayed up late with the same dates they were supposed to have gone to the concert with. As a consequence, the boys were operating on less than four hours sleep.
Spenser appeared well-rested as he went over his weapons again. When Cody spotted a knife with a thick handle, he pointed at it.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah, I like having an ace up my sleeve.”
“For these targets? We’ll probably kill them before they know it’s happening.”
Spenser crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the boys.
“Listen up. I don’t want you two getting sloppy. I know it’s been slow lately and that you’ve had a lot of down time, but I also warned you it would be like this. Okay, so these targets aren’t a challenge, but you can never drop your guard for a moment, not in this business. Do you understand me?”
The boys gave each other knowing looks. They had been slacking off and not taking the assignment seriously, and they both knew it.
“I hear you, Spenser,” Cody said, and Romeo grunted in agreement.
“All right, now check your weapons and then we’ll get moving. And don’t forget to turn those cell phones on too.”
Romeo pointed upstream. “I’m going to walk to my target since he’s so close. Besides, that crappy trailer of his is probably sitting in a mud field after all this rain. The last thing I need is to get my ride stuck.”
“Good thinking,” Spenser said. “Now, same rule as before, if one of us doesn’t show or call, the others will go looking. Stay safe and good luck.”
They separated, with Spenser and Cody driving off and Romeo walking along the bank of the stream.
Spenser reached his area in only a few minutes and tucked his stolen pickup truck behind a stretch of tall bushes. When he stepped out of the truck, his booted feet squished the wet grass beneath them.
His target lived in a white motor home that appeared permanently parked on a pad of blue-tinted concrete surrounded by a large area covered in gravel.
The driveway had a gravel surface as well. Spenser trod along with a light step to avoid crunching the stones and making too much noise. Wooden steps had been erected at the door and had black metal railings, and a green awning hung at the rear to provide shade from the sun.
The stream running through the area was miles away, however, a tributary that fed it water was nearby. Spenser guessed that his target used it to fill the tanks on the motor home. A small field of solar panels supplied the electric needs and were supplemented by a hundred-gallon propane tank.
Next to the white metal tank was a wooden stand with a blue plastic drum lying sideways upon it. Spenser had checked it out on his first trip to the property and knew the 30-gallon drum held gasoline, although it was less than half-filled.
Spenser’s plan was to walk in, enter quietly, and kill the deacon. If the man were asleep he would likely wake him first. He wanted the man to awake not to frighten him, but rather, to let him know why he was dying. Retribution for the death of Mary McCoy had been a long time coming, and the bastard should know which of his many sins he was dying for.
When Spenser was approaching the motor home a flash of sunlight shone between clouds and reflected off something among a grouping of trees. The area was about a thousand feet away and Spenser was puzzled by what he was seeing. There were cars parked over there. Two, no, he could also see a bumper that looked as if belonged to a larger vehicle.
His first thought was that they were police cars and he had walked into a trap set by the law. That idea left his mind when a longer look told him they were normal vehicles.
The cars looked as if they had been parked there and abandoned, as there was no one around. Spenser reached into a pocket and took out a pair of folding binoculars to get a better look. Something wasn’t right.
Hidden at the base of a tree behind the area where the propane tank sat, Vince Ryker watched Spenser through a rifle scope.
I could kill the bastard right now, Ryker thought, but no, that wouldn’t be any fun. I want this prick to know who’s killing him. I need to see his face when I do it.
Ryker was not alone. Galong was with him, along with eight more of his raiders. The rest of his men were divided between the homes of the other deacons on Spenser’s kill list. As he hoped he would, Spenser had decided to visit the motor home first.
Spenser Hawke had matured since Ryker last saw him. He appeared bigger and Ryker had no doubt the increased size was all muscle. Like himself, Spenser Hawke was bearded, and he moved with the grace of an athlete.
More than ever, Ryker was glad his men were with him. Although he had no doubt that he was the better man, Spenser had been trained by Tanner Five, just as he had. Pretender or not, the man was undoubtedly lethal. Ryker wanted to end his threat without risking himself.
His cell phone vibrated, and Ryker saw he had a text message from one of the men he’d left at that beat-up old trailer by the stream. The message informed him that a young blond man was approaching their position on foot.
A second message came in as Ryker was considering what the blond guy’s presence meant. It was from the same man, but he was relaying a message he’d received from the group Ryker had left near the hilltop where the third deacon lived.
There was another young man there, one with dark hair, and he was moving up the hill while trying to leave no footprints behind.
“Son of a bitch,” Ryker muttered, causing Galong to send him a questioning look.
“What wrong?” Galong asked in a quiet voice.
“Hawke didn’t come alone. The bastard has two guys with him; they’re at the other locations.”
“I thought he be lone killer?”
“He would be… unless.” Ryker began tapping at the phone to send a text message to his men at the other locations. One of them would have to be relayed by the man at the trailer, since his phone was apparently out of range of the hilltop. It was a simple message that contained only two words.
KILL THEM.
Spenser put away the binoculars after seeing nothing out of place other than the cars parked amid the trees. Perhaps they belonged to hunters, as elk season had begun a day earlier… and yet, why hunt in such a barren region?
Spenser was tempted to turn around and come back at a later date, however, the client needed the target killed while he was establishing an alibi.
He decided to keep going and took out his weapon, along with a small hand-held walkie-talkie. Rain drops glistened on the motor home’s surface and sparkled in the rising sun. An umbrella was on the steps with its handle hung on the metal railing. When Spenser got a good look at it he was certain he wouldn’t be killing his target anytime soon.
Through the binoculars the umbrella had appeared to be a tan color. That was from a distance and before the sun broke through the clouds. Up close and illuminated, Spenser could see the umbrella was pink. His target hadn’t come home alone last night and had a woman inside.
If that were the case, then Spenser would have to wait for her to leave before he killed his man. He only hoped she wouldn’t decide to stay long. Spenser circled the trailer while listening for voices or sounds of movement, he heard neither. There was, however, a gap in the blinds that covered the bedroom window. By standing on his toes, Sp
enser could just raise his eyes high enough to look inside. What he saw startled him.
His target, the former deacon, was dead, as well as the woman he had brought home with him. Both of their naked bodies had suffered fatal stab wounds. Their combined blood was bright red despite the gloom inside the bedroom and told Spenser that they had been killed within the hour.
He sprinted away from the trailer in a zig-zagging pattern but only made it twenty yards when a voice shouted to him. The voice came from behind and to his left, and the words it spoke chilled him.
“Keep running and I’ll shoot you down like a dog, Spenser Hawke.”
Spenser slowed to look over his shoulder and saw a group of men coming from the area behind the propane tank. They had brown skin, and most were thin and short of stature. Among them was a tall white man aiming a rifle at him. If the man had wanted him dead he could have killed him already. For some reason, the bastard wanted to talk.
Talk was good. Talk bought time.
Spenser stopped running and turned to face the men while keeping his gun hanging at his side. In his left hand was the walkie-talkie.
“What’s going on?” Spenser said, and even as he asked the question he realized who it was he was talking to. “Ryker?”
Vince Ryker’s smile rivaled the rising sun in its brilliance as he stared at Spenser.
“That’s right, Hawke. Your days of running around pretending to be a Tanner are over.”
“You’re the pretender, Ryker. You came close, yeah, but the fact is you weren’t man enough to be a Tanner. You’ll never be more than a failed apprentice.”
“Speaking of apprentices, I know about your two. If I had to guess, my men have probably killed them by now.”
Spenser had to swallow hard before he spoke again.
“How many men did you send against them?”
“Oh, there were seven of my men in one group and eight in the other. More than enough to kill two boys.”
Young Guns Box Set - Books 1-4: A Tanner Series (Young Gun Box Sets) Page 38