The Tanner Series - Books 1-11: Tanner - The hit man with a heart

by Remington Kane

  Mario removed his wallet, counted out several bills and passed them to Tanner.

  “I called Johnny while I was inside, and he said to pay you. As for Butch and Sundance here, Johnny’s going to give them the hundred K reward, along with one hell of a night at the club.”

  “We get the reward?” Merle said.

  “Of course you do,” Tanner said in his Romeo voice, but with an edge to it. “You killed Tanner, duh.”

  Mario looked at him and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before Romeo, but you’re all right. Come to the club sometime, I’m always there with Johnny and we’ll play some pool.”

  “I will, but next time have some women there too.”

  Mario laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Come on guys, let’s get back.”

  Tanner had Mario drop him off in Midtown, near Bryant Park, and then walked off toward Times Square.

  Mario returned Tanner’s wave goodbye and then pulled away from the curb. Afterwards, he looked at Merle and Earl by using the rearview mirror.

  “That dude is flaky, but he seems all right, hmm?”

  “I hope I never see him again,” Merle said.

  “Amen to that,” Earl said. “Amen to that.”

  Tanner watched the van disappear and headed for the subway.

  Tim had given him all the info he had on Al Trent, and thirty minutes later, Tanner was breaking into Trent’s Mercedes, where he left something hidden in the trunk.

  When he walked away, he was headed back toward the subway, and limping noticeably.

  He had given himself a cortisone shot before going to the club, but his hours of playing the dancing, prancing Romeo had made his leg hurt more than ever, and he needed to rest it. He also needed time to think.

  Tanner sighed as he settled into a seat on the subway. There’s plenty of time to think about things when you’re dead, plenty of time.

  In the office of Street View, Sara clicked on the icon marked POST and watched her blog entry go live, along with the single photo she’d been able to take in the alley, the one that appeared to show Tanner dead, while lying alongside Lars Gruber.

  Behind her, Emily and Amy Sharpe let out a cheer.

  “This is a huge exclusive, but we still haven’t tied all this chaos back to MegaZenith,” Emily said.

  “I know,” Sara said. “But I’ve become convinced that Frank Richards is involved. Too many things point to it.”

  Emily smiled. “When do we get to meet those two brothers you told us about, the ones working undercover for you?”

  “Maybe someday, but they can’t be seen with us, not yet.”

  “Are they cute?” Amy asked.

  “Merle and Earl?”

  The sisters nodded.

  Sara grinned. “I’ll let you decide that when you meet them.”

  “They sound so brave, so smart,” Emily said, and then she wondered why Sara was laughing.

  The blog post spread across the internet within hours.

  By noon, the twenty-four-hour news stations were discussing the photo. They were debating if the mystery man named Tanner had really waged a one-man war on the mob, or was the dead man in the photo a scapegoat for a rival gang.

  One thing was clear, however. The blog and independent newspaper named Street View was once again worth reading.

  Laurel Ivy opened the door of her illegal clinic and found Joe Pullo staring at her.

  Pullo took one look at her red eyes and puffy face and knew he had guessed right about the depth of feelings she had for Tanner.

  “I’m so sorry, honey; I know you cared for him.”

  Laurel opened his jacket and looked at his bandages.

  “You should still be in the hospital.”

  “For what it’s worth, Laurel, I think Tanner had feelings for you too. It’s how I guessed that something was going on.”

  Laurel sobbed, as tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “I loved him, Joe.”

  Pullo offered his good shoulder and Laurel leaned in and cried on it.

  At the club, Johnny R sat up on the sofa in his office as Al Trent walked in.

  Trent handed Johnny the newspaper version of Street View and jammed a finger at the picture.

  “That is unacceptable. Are they going to arrest you?”

  “Picture or not, there are no bodies. My lawyers say they can fight it.”

  “Why didn’t you check her camera?”

  “She didn’t have one; she had a phone and it had no pictures on it.”

  “She likely sent them to herself or placed them in cloud storage.”

  “Phones can do that?”

  “Of course.”

  “I didn’t know that. I’m old school.”

  “Mr. Richards is also extremely upset over the loss of Gruber. He was a valuable asset.”

  “He’s blaming that on me?”

  “Gruber was only involved in this because you were so ineffective at stopping Tanner. If you could run your own shop, Gruber would still be alive.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Trent smiled, as his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I’m here to give you a bit of news.”

  “Which is?”

  “You’re being demoted.”

  “Say what?”

  “It’s simple. Mr. Richards will be recommending to the rest of the ruling council that you be relegated to an inferior position inside the Conglomerate.”

  “Only Sam Giacconi can remove me as Underboss.”

  “Sam Giacconi is a senile old man, and in any event, Mr. Richards seems confident he can remove you as well.”

  “Bastard! Why doesn’t he just have me killed like he did my uncle?”

  Trent smiled again. “That was my recommendation. Unfortunately, Mr. Richards ignored it.”

  Johnny was off the sofa and had Trent slammed up against the door before the younger man could even flinch. He took out a knife and pressed it against Trent’s throat.

  “I should slice you into pieces and toss you in the river.”

  Trent swallowed hard several times, but when he spoke, his voice sounded steady.

  “If you hurt me, Richards will have you killed.”

  Johnny withdrew the blade, opened the door, and shoved Trent into the hallway.

  “Get the hell out of here!”

  After slamming the door, Johnny picked up the newspaper and saw Sara’s name and picture under the byline.

  He laughed to himself as rival emotions surfaced. He wanted to see Sara again, but when he did, he didn’t know if he’d try to kiss her, or kill her.

  “Maybe both,” he muttered, and fell back onto the sofa.

  Al Trent left the club in a huff, but as he drove away, his mood brightened.

  He still had the gun that Gruber used to kill Jackie Verona. It was time to play that card and have Johnny R framed for murder.

  The gun was hidden inside his apartment, and after retrieving it, he planned to return to the club on some pretext and plant the weapon in Johnny’s office.

  However, Trent returned home to find a patrol car waiting for him.

  The homicide detective accompanying the officers handed him a search warrant for both his car and residence.

  “Are you serious? What is this about?”

  “I’m investigating the murder of Carl Reese.”

  Trent thought the name sounded vaguely familiar and then recalled it.

  “Mr. Reese supervises the night cleaning staff for us. You’re saying someone murdered him?”

  The detective was a tall man in his fifties with graying hair. He looked Trent over with suspicious and knowing eyes.

  “An anonymous caller said they saw you and Mr. Reese having an argument inside a warehouse yesterday.”

  “That’s crazy; I barely know the—what warehouse?”

  “It used to be a box factory. Mr. Reese was found shot to death inside the trunk of a nearby car.”

  Trent went silent as his mind raced
through the possibilities. Someone was trying to frame him, but who? And what happened to Jackie Verona’s body?

  “I want a lawyer,” Trent said.

  The cop was not surprised by his request.

  Later, the murder weapon that Tanner had planted in the trunk of Trent’s car was discovered and found to match the bullets that killed Carl Reese. It was the same gun Reese had used to threaten Tim and Madison.

  Tanner had walked the still stunned Reese away from Madison’s apartment the day before, as if escorting a drunk home. Afterwards, Tanner had driven Reese to the former box factory, where he shoved him inside the trunk of the Pontiac and shot him with his own gun.

  Reese had pleaded with Tanner for his life but was ignored.

  As if the attempted rape of Madison wasn’t reason enough to kill him, Reese also knew that the Conglomerate’s computers had been compromised by Tim, and so he had to die.

  In the coming days, a forensic team would discover one of Al Trent’s hairs in the warehouse, a single strand left behind when he was there with Gruber.

  While an envelope found with Reese’s body would be confirmed as having Trent’s prints on it.

  A second gun found in Trent’s apartment won’t be linked to any crimes, but two shell casings recovered inside the warehouse will match the gun perfectly. That would cause the police to wonder if it had been used to create the dried puddle of blood found beneath an equally bloody chair.

  When Johnny learned of Trent’s troubles, he wore a smile for days.

  On East 6th Street, Mrs. Edith Ross opened her apartment door and smiled at her young neighbor, Miss Claire Harper.

  “Hello dear, how are things?”

  Claire looked disheartened. “Things are awful. My renter’s insurance won’t cover all the damages, the police are still calling my apartment a crime scene, and the landlord says he doesn’t know when I’ll be able to move back in.”

  Mrs. Ross looked sympathetic. The old woman also felt a sense of guilt over having let the young man with the family photo fool her. Had she called the police or the landlord to confirm his identity, Claire could have avoided all the trouble she’d been going through since returning from her vacation.

  The old widow invited Claire inside and they talked over coffee. But as Claire was leaving, she remembered the main reason that she had dropped by.

  “You said that a package came for me?” Claire asked.

  “Oh yes, this came yesterday.”

  Mrs. Ross reached over to a table by the door and handed Claire a package that was about twice the size of a cigar box. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, postmarked New York City, and had a fictitious return address.

  “I don’t know what this could be, but thank you for holding it for me.”

  “You’re welcome, dear, and how are your parents?”

  “They’re great, but it’s a little weird being back in my old bedroom.”

  “The next time I speak to the landlord I’ll try to light a fire under him. I miss having you in the building.”

  Claire kissed the old woman goodbye on the cheek, then returned to her car. She was just about to start the engine when curiosity took hold, and she decided to open the package instead.

  Inside, was a rectangular metal box, and taped atop the box was a note.

  SORRY FOR THE MESS. I HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR IT.

  When Claire opened the box, she saw that it contained thirty thousand dollars in cash.

  It was a large chunk of the money Tanner had stolen from the Conglomerate drug den he had attacked days earlier.

  Despite the horror show she returned home to after her apartment had become a battleground for Tanner and Joe Pullo’s crew, Claire had enjoyed a very lovely time while on her Mexican vacation.

  Next year, she was going to Hawaii.

  105

  I Wouldn’t Miss It For The World

  The farm was as isolated and large as Tim had promised it would be, enabling Tanner to hone his long-distance target shooting skills.

  The limp in his leg had gone, and he’d wiped off the temporary tattoos with rubbing alcohol, but some of the hair dye remained, particularly along the sides. Madison quipped that it made him look distinguished.

  The old farmhouse was huge with six large bedrooms, and Tanner took the one farthest from Tim and Madison, giving them their privacy and ensuring his own.

  The Conglomerate thought he was dead and had no idea that he possessed their organization’s files.

  Tim was undoubtedly still being sought, but he would no longer be using the handle Rom Warrior and was working exclusively on cracking the Conglomerate’s encryption.

  As for Madison, her only family, her father, had disowned her and had no reason to track her down.

  Days after coming to the farm, Tanner was lying prone on his stomach atop a grassy hill, sighting a long-distance shot, when Tim approached from behind.

  Tim gestured at the shooting earmuffs Tanner removed as he stood to greet him.

  “How did you hear me coming with those on?”

  Tanner pointed at the thermos of coffee he’d brought with him to practice shooting. It was shiny and better yet, reflective.

  Tim smiled. “That’s why you told Madison to make sure she bought the type made of stainless steel, you could see my reflection. You don’t miss a trick, do you?”

  “If I did, I’d really be dead. What’s up?”

  “The daily progress report. I’m still unable to break their encryption, but as I said before, it would be the greatest of luck if we stumbled onto the correct sequence randomly.”

  “I get that, I also think you wouldn’t climb up the hill just to tell me that again.”

  Tim took a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket.

  Tanner opened the paper and saw a list of names. He recognized a few from the news and Frank Richards was also on the list. The heading at the top gave a time in the near future and the place was a building on Wall Street in New York City.

  “What’s this?”

  “You can thank Madison for that. She bagged up the debris from the office shredder and spent the last few days piecing that and two other sheets together. The other sheets turned out to be nothing, but that, that’s a list of the Conglomerate’s ruling council, along with the time and place that they’ll be gathering.”

  Tanner looked thoughtful for a few moments, but then nodded to himself, as an idea came to mind.

  “The next time we go into town, I’ll be shopping for a business suit.”

  Tim looked puzzled for a moment, then appeared stunned. “You’re planning on going to that meeting?”

  Tanner was still holding his rifle; he stroked it like a lover.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  BOOK 3

  MAKING A KILLING ON WALL STREET - A TANNER NOVEL - BOOK 3

  Tanner’s war with the Conglomerate heats up but also grows more complicated as he becomes embroiled in a power struggle within the Calvino Crime Family.

  Sophia Verona, daughter of slain mobster Jackie Verona, is in the middle of the conflict and only Tanner can save her, but first, he has to keep himself alive.

  Meanwhile, Conglomerate boss Frank Richards has plans to gain more power, while his former assistant Al Trent grows closer to learning the truth about Tanner’s “death.”

  Can Tanner survive and start a new life, or will fate snatch away victory at the last instant?

  106

  Two Are Better Than One

  When Tanner spotted the beer mug coming at him from the corner of his eye, he ducked, while also thrusting a fist to the right and punching his attacker in the balls.

  That’s when the man’s four friends decided to join the fight.

  Tanner was in rural Pennsylvania in the small town of Ridge Creek, and near the farm he’d been living at with Tim and Madison.

  Tanner hadn’t been with a woman since he was in Florida nearly a month earlier. After a week on the farm, he was begin
ning to stare longingly at Madison, he knew it was past time he got laid.

  Hell, he was so horny that even Tim was starting to look good to him. So, he went to the local watering hole; a big rambling dump named Grover’s Bar & Grill that had once been a barn.

  It was late afternoon and people were just getting off work, so the bar only held a little more than two dozen patrons, many of which were couples.

  Tanner found the pickings slim the first hour he was there and was talking up the middle-aged, but still tasty, bartender, when a pair of women walked in who were young, hot, and wearing short dresses that showed lots of cleavage.

  One of them was a blonde with huge blue eyes and hair that hung down to her ass. The other was a brunette with shoulder-length hair, large breasts and green eyes that seemed to sparkle.

  Tanner zeroed in on them immediately, as did the group of five guys that looked like factory workers. The men wore matching green shirts that had CRAMER STEEL stitched on the back.

  The factory workers were closer to the women’s table and one of them, a man with a goatee and ponytail, sauntered over there first, but Tanner made a point of catching the eye of the blonde as he leaned back against the bar.

  The woman smiled, looked him over, then whispered something in her friend’s ear. When the brunette’s eyes wandered over Tanner and she licked her lips, Tanner knew his chances had improved. He planned to exit the bar that night with one of the ladies on his arm.

  The man at the table followed their gaze, then glared at Tanner and asked him what the fuck he was looking at.

  Tanner ignored the man, walked over to the table, and spoke to the women in hopes of leaving with the blonde.

  Not fond of being ignored, the ponytailed man sitting with the women stood and told Tanner that he should go back to the bar, “...if he knew what was good for him.”