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

by Remington Kane

  The first bullet was followed by dozens, and as Pullo moved toward the stairs to get to Laurel, Mike tackled him to the ground.

  “Down, boss!”

  Pullo hit the ground hard, looked up, and saw several bullets break windows and chip at the stone surrounding Laurel, who had frozen in place from fear.

  Then Big Ralphie was there. He grabbed Laurel around the waist and turned with her, using his massive body to shield her, and as he did so, he was struck three times. Still, he managed to shove Laurel back inside the townhouse before collapsing in the doorway.

  “Get off me!” Pullo shouted, as he pushed Mike aside. Only then did he see the fatal wound. Mike had been struck in the right temple by a ricochet off the stone steps. At the back of his head was a large exit wound.

  Pullo looked around and saw that Bosco was wounded in the left arm, but still able to fight, while Ivanov was on his knees and crying over his partner’s body. The only thing that had saved the federal agent was the fact that he was aligned with the Hummer’s rear wheel well, and the shots couldn’t penetrate the steel.

  Pullo lunged over, pushed Ivanov to the ground, then slapped him hard across the face.

  “Help me kill these bastards!”

  Ivanov grunted and took out his gun, as tears still fell from his eyes.

  The barrage of shots seemed unending because the shooters were pros. While two of them fired, the other two reloaded, and there seemed no end to their ammo.

  Pullo left the cover of the Hummer’s wheel well and crawled beneath the vehicle. It was a tight fit, as two of the tires were flat.

  He could see the men, and what looked like a thousand shell casings were sprinkled at their feet. Pullo took aim at those feet and fired, just as Ivanov crawled up beside him.

  The first man fell to his knees as Ivanov shot a second man in the shin. The third man realized what was happening, turned, and ran, while the fourth man dropped flat while firing.

  It did him no good, as Pullo and Ivanov had kept up a barrage of their own, and they killed the three men where they fell.

  Meanwhile, Bosco fired at the man who had fled and struck him in the right calf muscle, causing the man to stumble and fall.

  After crawling out from under the car, Pullo was horrified to see Laurel return outside. He ran to her and met her on the steps.

  “It’s not safe yet; get back in.”

  “Are you all right, Joe?”

  “I’m good, baby, and thank God for Big Ralphie.”

  Laurel turned and stared at Big Ralphie. “Oh my God.”

  Pullo had thought Big Ralphie dead, but the huge man was simply unconscious, and had just rolled onto his side. His face looked as purple as a plum.

  “He can’t breathe,” Laurel said. “He was eating when this all started; I think he’s choking on the food he had in his mouth.”

  Laurel slammed her hand hard against Big Ralphie’s back to try to dislodge the obstruction, and her palm came away wet with blood from his wounds. With the big man unconscious and lying on his side, the Heimlich maneuver was out, and Big Ralphie was running out of time.

  “Joe, hand me your knife, and I’ll also need a pen.”

  “Laurel, you’re not safe out here.”

  “Joe, he saved me, and I can save him, but I need your knife.”

  Pullo passed her his knife as he looked around for new threats. There were none, but Ivanov and Bosco had the surviving shooter up and hopping along on one leg.

  “I need that pen, or some kind of tube,” Laurel said.

  Pullo didn’t have a pen, but Ivanov did, and he passed it over.

  “A tracheotomy?” he asked Laurel.

  “Yes,” Laurel said, as she took the pen apart. She then felt along Big Ralphie’s neck, near his Adam’s apple, as she searched for the cricothyroid membrane. When she located it, she made a small incision with the knife, then another into the membrane beneath it. With that done, she carefully inserted the empty casing of Ivanov’s pen, and then blew several short breaths into it.

  When she felt air coming from the tube, she looked at Big Ralphie’s chest and saw it moving. He was breathing on his own.

  Laurel laughed with relief. “He’s getting air.”

  Pullo smiled at her. “Good baby, but now go back inside.”

  With Big Ralphie breathing and the emergency ended, Laurel looked about at the carnage scattered around Pullo’s Hummer, which had more holes than a cheese grater.

  Justina lay on the sidewalk like a broken doll, where mere moments earlier, she was speaking to Laurel. Three of the shooters, all stout and swarthy men, were lying in the street dead, each with multiple wounds, while Mike was also dead, and Bosco winced from the wound in his left arm.

  Laurel stepped toward Bosco to offer aid, but Pullo took her by the shoulders.

  “Baby, please go back inside. I’d die if anything happened to you.”

  “I should help Bosco.”

  Bosco sent her a smile. “I’m good, Doc, just take cover.”

  “See, he’s good,” Pullo said.

  Laurel wiped away tears. “Come with me.”

  “I’ll be right in, now please go.”

  Laurel pointed down at Big Ralphie. “That’s a temporary measure, he needs an ER, and he’s wounded besides.”

  “There’s help coming, hear it?” Pullo said, and Laurel smiled when she listened and heard the sirens in the distance.

  After Laurel went back inside, Pullo stared down at the surviving cartel hitman.

  He spoke to the punk in Spanish and saw him sneer.

  “Your Spanish sucks, Pullo.”

  “Good, you speak English.”

  “Yeah, I should, I grew up in El Paso. And don’t think you’ve won. They’ll send more guys, and you don’t have Tanner to cover your ass anymore either.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means he’s dead, cabrón. Your boy is dead.”

  Pullo grabbed the punk by his collar and the man winced from the pain in his leg.

  “You’re lying!”

  “Hey man, his ass got blown up in a house. Tanner is dead man, and you’re next.”

  Pullo fell back against the wall just as two police cruisers came into view. They were followed by an ambulance, and there were more flashing lights in the distance.

  “Tanner can’t be dead, he—wait a second. What house are you talking about?”

  “Out on Staten Island, where that slut of his lives.”

  Pullo reached up and grabbed the sides of his head with both hands. “Oh God, you’re talking about Sammy and Sophia.”

  The man pointed down at Justina’s body, as he had just noticed the badge on her belt. “Oh shit, that one was a cop? Good for the bitch!”

  Ivanov grabbed the man by the hair and tossed him down the stone steps. There was a loud cracking noise when the punk landed. He screamed in pain and held his broken left kneecap.

  Ivanov spat at the thug and then looked over at Pullo and Bosco.

  “We didn’t see shit,” Pullo said. He took out his phone and began dialing, as Ivanov lofted his credentials in the air and went to talk to the arriving cops.

  There was no answer, by either Sammy or Sophia.

  “His cab got lost. He never made it to the house. It was somebody else,” Pullo said, as he tried to convince himself of a lie.

  When Ivanov was able to confirm the punk’s story, Pullo learned the truth.

  “It happened while we were being attacked, Pullo. They’re still putting out the fire, but they say the house is gone. It’s why we wanted to move you. The cartel plays hardball.”

  “Tell me where Krupin is.”

  “You want to kill him?”

  “You’re goddamn right,” Pullo said.

  Ivanov looked over to where a pair of workers from the coroners’ office were zipping Justina into a body bag.

  “You’re going to have to get in line, Pullo. Krupin is mine.”

  355

  Stra
nge Bedfellows

  MIDNIGHT ON STATEN ISLAND

  Pullo told his men to stay back as he walked over to the pile of rubble that had been the home of Sophia Verona.

  Tanner was there, and was standing before the thick web of red ARSON INVESTIGATION tape left by the fire department. He was staring at the debris with eyes of ice.

  Pullo stood beside him.

  “How is Sammy?” Tanner said.

  “He’s alive, which is a miracle, but he’s still in a coma, and one leg is badly broken.”

  The fire department discovered Sammy’s naked battered body lying beneath the bathtub. The explosion had blown it out of the house and into a neighbor’s yard.

  As near as they could tell with a preliminary investigation, the bomb had been left beneath the bed, a bed Sophia had been lying upon as she waited for Sammy to finish his bath.

  Tanner turned and looked at Pullo. “You said on the phone that this was the work of a cartel. That means they won’t stop coming.”

  “Yeah, Krupin went and got himself some heavy hitters.”

  “I’ll need details, Joe, as many as you can get me. A list of the key players, what they look like, where they are, and I don’t just mean here, but Mexico too.”

  “You can’t kill them all, Tanner. There are too many.”

  Tanner shook his head. “No, not too many, just one, and then another, and another, and another. By the time I’m done with them, there will be none left.”

  A car pulled up and Pullo’s men went on high alert. Bosco was one of them, with his wounded arm in a sling. When he saw that it was Ivanov, he gave the all clear.

  “Who’s that?” Tanner said.

  “He’s the Fed I told you about.”

  Ivanov walked over and stood beside Pullo, then, he looked past him.

  “Are you Tanner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you as good as they say you are?”

  “No. I’m better.”

  Ivanov was still wearing a suit, and there was a white envelope sticking out of the breast pocket. He removed it, leaned past Pullo, and handed it to Tanner.

  “What is this?” Tanner said.

  “That’s a copy of the latest intelligence we have, names, locations, and pictures. There are over thirty men there, and they’re a mix of Russian mob and cartel members. We haven’t located Krupin yet, but we will.”

  “I thought you weren’t dirty, Ivanov?” Pullo said.

  “I don’t want your money, Pullo. I want blood for Justina.”

  “That was his partner,” Pullo told Tanner, although he was beginning to suspect there had been more than that between them.

  Tanner held up the envelope. “I’ll put this to good use.”

  “I was never here,” Ivanov said, and headed back to his car.

  Pullo watched him leave. “Krupin pissed off the wrong Fed.”

  “Do you remember how we met, Joe?”

  “You handed me Vincenzo Rigoletto’s head in a box.”

  “This time, the head will be Krupin’s.”

  Tanner walked to a car and drove off, to begin his reign of death.

  BOOK 9

  BALLET OF DEATH – A TANNER NOVEL – BOOK 9

  Mexican cartel members make a move to control New York City and only Tanner stands in their way.

  356

  The Problem Solver

  OSSINING, NEW YORK 8:31 a.m.

  After spending hours watching the secluded house on Rue Lane, Tanner made his move.

  The house was of average size, but rundown, with missing shingles and a leaking roof. Its best feature was its location, which was far away from other dwellings. The seclusion was something much prized by the cartel hit team members staying within its walls.

  There were four men inside. Two of them were the men who had placed a bomb beneath Sophia Verona’s bed, a bomb that killed her.

  Tanner parked in front of the home and stepped out of his car while holding a clipboard, as he pretended to talk on a cellphone. He was dressed in a cheap suit with a bright red tie, wore glasses, and had his hair combed forward. A face peaked out a front window, but Tanner ignored it as he pretended to be engaged in a phone call.

  “I know, Marge, but what do you want me to do? Pearson says that I have to work this weekend.”

  Tanner went around to the other side of the car, where he turned his back on the house as he reached inside the open passenger window, to grab a well-worn sample case. The bag had a strap, and Tanner slung it over his head so that the case rested on his right hip.

  Although his back was turned, Tanner could still see the front of the home. He had previously angled the side-view mirror in such a way that he would be able to keep the home in sight. At the window, the first man was joined by a second man, and the second man was pointing at him.

  As he left the car, Tanner spoke into the phone again. “Marge? Marge? Can I talk please? Good. Now, I didn’t say that we wouldn’t go see your mother, it’s just that we can’t do it this weekend.”

  Tanner paused at the foot of the steps as if he were listening to someone on the phone. From the corner of his eye, he saw the door open and watched as a man came outside to stare at him. The man had one hand hidden behind his back. Tanner was certain that the hand held a gun.

  “Yes, next weekend, sure… I know, but you know how Pearson is, but listen, I’m with a client now so I’ll see you later… I love you too, bye-bye now.”

  Tanner lowered the phone with a sigh and smiled up at the man. “Hey there, sorry to be rude, but that was my wife, and you know how that is. If I didn’t answer when she called, I’d hear about it for weeks.”

  The man was stout and swarthy. He gazed at Tanner with suspicion, as he spoke with a thick Spanish accent.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m with Acme Home Renovations, we specialize in beautifying properties.”

  “You are a salesman?”

  Tanner’s grin was brighter than the sun. “No sir, I am a problem solver. If you’ll just give me a few minutes, I’ll make you glad that you did.”

  As Tanner spoke, he pushed a button on the side of the phone.

  The man pointed at the car. “I don’t like salesmen. Get back in your car and leave.”

  The phone rang, and after glancing at the screen, Tanner looked up at the man.

  “Hey, it’s for you.”

  He tossed the “phone” at the man and saw him react with surprise. On reflex, the man reached out and grabbed the phone with his left hand. When the phone rang for the third time, it detonated, obliterating the man’s hand while nearly severing his head.

  The second man from the window appeared in the doorway and tried to slam the door shut, but his partner’s corpse was in the way.

  Tanner had freed a gun from behind his back. He fired at the man, missing him, but managed to drive him back inside. Tanner then charged up the porch steps, and as he did so, he removed two fragmentation grenades from the sample bag slung over his shoulder.

  The grenades sailed through the open doorway. One landed on the floor and rolled down a hallway, while the other bounced off a sofa to land at the base of a flight of stairs. By the time the grenades exploded, Tanner was already moving around toward the rear of the home. It pleased him to hear the second man’s screams of agony.

  Tanner had to wait only seconds before the rear door opened, as he was standing with his back pressed against the side of the house.

  He could hear two men whispering in Spanish, and he risked peeking around the corner. One of the men was holding a phone, a real phone, and he was speaking to someone in a hushed, but panicked tone.

  It took them several seconds, but the men gathered their courage and ran down the back steps. They were headed for the woods at the rear of the property.

  Tanner took careful aim and shot each man in the buttocks. He needed at least one of them to stay alive. Both men let out screams, stumbled, and fell to the ground. One of them had lost his weapon, but the
other fired his in panic back at the house. The wild shots shattered two windows on the second floor, while one even went over the house entirely.

  Tanner stayed where he was until he saw that the man had run out of rounds, then he sprinted over to them. The two Mexicans looked alike and were both tall and skinny. According to the files Ivanov had given him, these were the men known as the specialists. They had been sent by the Alvarado Cartel to kill him and had killed Sophia instead.

  Tanner was about to speak to them in their own language when the one on the right spoke English with a slight accent.

  “Don’t kill me!”

  “Give me a reason not to.”

  “Don’t tell this bastard anything, Manuel,” said the other man. He spoke through teeth gritted in pain from the wound he’d suffered.

  Tanner shot him in the head. The remaining man, the one named Manuel let out a scream, and then he cursed Tanner with a string of Spanish profanity.

  Tanner placed the gun against his head. “Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll kill you right now.”

  “You’ll kill me anyway… just like you killed my cousin.”

  Tanner removed a knife. “No, I’ll just make you wish you were dead.”

  Tanner moved the blade toward the man’s right eye.

  “I’ll talk! Goddamn it I’ll talk.”

  Tanner pulled the man to his feet. “Who did you call?”

  “Juan Alvarado.”

  “He’s the son, correct, the son of Alonso Alvarado?”

  “Yes, and he won’t come here himself; he’ll send men.”

  “Where can I find Juan Alvarado? Is he in New York City?”

  “I think so, but I don’t know where he is, I swear. I’m answering your questions, please let me live.”

  “You and your cousin killed a friend of mine.”

  The man’s legs gave out and he sank to his knees and cried. “I just do what they tell me. Oh God, I don’t want to die.”