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

by Remington Kane

  “What about the car, is it hot?”

  “It’s clean and reliable. Just park it when you’re done and send me a text where I can pick it up.”

  Tanner inspected the item in the trunk without removing it and found that it was of good quality.

  “This will do.”

  “Watch your back, Tanner; I hear the Alvarado Cartel is gunning for you.”

  “You got it all wrong, I’m gunning for them.”

  “I’m serious, Tanner.”

  Tanner studied Duke for a moment before slamming the trunk shut.

  “Sit in the car with me for a few minutes. I need to place another order.”

  After leaving Duke, Tanner drove to a home improvement store. He had left his own car in the store’s back lot, and he transferred the item he received from Duke into it. Afterwards, he checked his watch and saw that it was time to take Laurel to the airport.

  Tanner drove in aimless circles around the airport parking lot until he was certain they hadn’t been followed. Pullo had stayed behind at the hotel with his people, and only he, Tanner, and Laurel knew where she was headed.

  Once inside the terminal, Tanner waited with Laurel until her plane was boarding.

  “These people I’m staying with, they’re friends of yours?”

  “I guess you can say that.”

  “I wish I could stay here; I’m so worried about Joe.”

  “He’s worried about you, and I hear that if it weren’t for the man he had guarding you, that you might be dead.”

  “Yes, Big Ralphie saved me, and I haven’t even been able to visit him in the hospital.”

  “You can see him when you come back.”

  “Tanner?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m so sorry about Sophia. I know you two broke up, but I also know you had feelings for her.”

  “Despite everything, we were friends, and the people who killed her will pay.”

  Laurel stared into his eyes. “I love you, Tanner. Please be careful, and please watch out for Joe. It would kill me if I lost either one of you.”

  “The best thing I can do for Joe is to kill his enemies, that is, after making certain you’re safe.”

  Laurel sighed. “I feel like I’m running away just when Joe needs me.”

  “It’s best, Laurel.” Tanner took out a phone and handed it to her along with a strip of paper. “Joe will call you on that every day from one of the numbers on that paper. If the phone rings and displays a number that doesn’t match, don’t answer it, remove the battery, and wait until midnight to activate it again. If you get a text, it won’t be Joe, no matter what it says.”

  “It’s so cloak and dagger.”

  “It’s just to be cautious.”

  Laurel’s flight was ready; Tanner watched her walk off with emotion stirring in his chest.

  He loved her, would always love her, and he was as worried for her as Pullo was.

  “She’ll be safe,” he whispered to himself.

  When he was certain her flight was in the air, he returned to his vehicle and headed north of the city. He had another flight to meet, and more men to kill.

  361

  The Man, The Myth

  MEXICO CITY

  Alexa Lucia watched as nearly three dozen of Alvarado’s men boarded a pair of private jets.

  She had been tracking three of the men to kill them but held off on her attack after they climbed into a limo.

  Alexa had followed the three men to the airport, where she recognized more of Alvarado’s men. Something was happening somewhere that was causing Alvarado to send a small army to handle it. Alexa was going to find out what that something was.

  Alexa was a beautiful Mexican woman of high intelligence and unique skills. She had light-brown skin with the Anglo features of her grandmother, who, as a teenager from Detroit, had gone to Mexico in 1946, fallen in love with Alexa’s musician grandfather, and settled there to raise six children.

  Her grandmother was gone now. Her entire family was gone. They had been murdered by Alonso Alvarado.

  Alexa followed the limo her three targets had taken as it exited the airport. Although he would be on a low level, the driver would be a member of the cartel, as were the rest of the men. It was likely the driver had overheard some of the men’s conversation and would at least know their destination.

  Alexa wanted that info; she wanted anything that she thought might help her kill Alonso Alvarado.

  When the limo parked in front of a Mexico City bar on a quiet street, Alexa watched the driver emerge from the limousine and enter the dimly lit tavern.

  She was in her van, a Ford Transit. The vehicle was white, had tinted windows and a raised roof. These days, it was often Alexa’s home as well as her transportation, and where the rear seats would normally be, she kept an air mattress.

  The driver of the limo appeared to be about forty. The man looked as if he might have been handsome when younger, but too much alcohol and food had softened his features and rounded his body.

  However, certain of his appetites would likely be going unfulfilled. Alexa intended to play to those appetites, in particular, lust.

  Alexa moved into the rear of the van to change into something more appropriate. When she emerged, she headed into the bar.

  The limo driver, Felipe, had just ordered his second beer when he saw the woman in the tight red dress enter. As she headed toward him, he realized his mouth had dropped open. He closed it and cleared his throat.

  Good God, but the woman is hot.

  Felipe watched her take a seat two stools to the right of his own. When she smiled at him, he felt his heart rate speed up.

  “Hi, is that your limo outside?”

  “Yes, well, I drive it.”

  “I love limos; some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had has been in the back of a limo.”

  Felipe simply blinked and nodded, as her mention of sex had made him lose his voice.

  The bartender came over. He was an old man, but not so old that he didn’t appreciate the loveliness of his newest customer. Felipe heard him ask the woman what she wanted and noticed that the old guy never took his eyes off her breasts.

  She ordered white wine, and when it came, Felipe insisted on paying for it. That made the woman smile again, and she moved over to take the stool next to Felipe. After offering her hand, she told him that her name was Anna.

  Felipe found her not only beautiful, but charming, and she seemed interested in everything he had to say. He was about to order her another glass of wine when she asked him if she could see the inside of his limousine.

  Alexa climbed into the rear of the limo while making sure that Felipe got a good look at her ass.

  The man was practically drooling when she turned to him. She smiled and patted the seat beside her.

  “Come here.”

  Felipe moved toward her so fast that he bumped his head on the doorframe, and Alexa had to fight the urge to laugh.

  Once he was seated beside her with the door closed, Felipe’s eyes wandered over her body. Alexa knew that the fool was expecting sex. She hadn’t lured him alone into the back of the limo for pleasure, but for pain. When she brought the knives out, she held one over his crotch and the other against his throat, Felipe froze, but after swallowing and releasing a short breath, he spoke.

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “Maybe I want the limo.”

  Felipe composed himself a bit and a small smile appeared. “This limousine belongs to the Alvarado Cartel; if you take it, they’ll kill you.”

  “The narcos you dropped at the airport, where are they going?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Felipe.”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  Alexa sank the tip of a knife into the flesh beneath Felipe’s chin.

  He hissed from the pain, and Alexa watched a line of blood race down his throat and onto his white shirt.

  “You will tell me what I want to k
now, or I will kill you right now. It’s your choice.”

  Felipe’s breathing had quickened, but he stared at Alexa with a look of defiance.

  “You’re lying. You won’t kill me, not a woman like you.”

  Alexa smiled. If he only knew how many of his kind she had killed. She pushed down on the blade positioned above Felipe’s crotch. It sliced through his pants and into the flesh beneath his pubic hair.

  Felipe cried out in shock, attempted to move, and cut his chin on the other blade.

  “Strike out at me and I’ll slit your throat,” Alexa told him. “Stay absolutely still and answer my questions.”

  “All right; just don’t cut me again. Oh God; my pants are filling with blood.”

  “Where were those men headed?”

  “To New York City, there’s a man there killing our people.”

  “A man? One man?”

  “His name is Tanner.”

  “What’s his first name?”

  “There is none. He is just called Tanner,” Felipe said, and saw in Alexa’s eyes that she knew the name.

  “You know Tanner?” he asked.

  “Not the man, no, but I’ve heard the myth.”

  “What myth?”

  “If this Tanner is a Tanner, the men who left here are all dead.”

  Felipe made a derisive sound. “Alvarado sent over thirty men to New York City. You think one man can kill thirty?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your usefulness has come to an end.”

  Alexa’s hands moved in a blur as she embedded the knives into Felipe’s torso. She watched him die, and as always, it brought to mind the death of her blessed abuela, her grandmother.

  She was about to leave the limo when, what she called her, “little voice”, spoke to her. It was telling her that there was something of interest for her in the limo.

  Alexa looked about and found it stuffed into a compartment on the door. It was a flyer with a mugshot displayed, and it had the name Tanner written beneath the photo.

  Alexa studied the wrinkled photo with great interest, while paying particular attention to the eyes, which she found to be sexy.

  “A Tanner,” she whispered, and then she left the limo with the photo clutched in her hand.

  362

  Memories Of Sophia

  SEVERAL MILES OUTSIDE MT PLEASANT, NEW YORK

  While Tanner was at the house in Ossining, Manuel had told Tanner about the landing strip the cartel had used to fly them in. It was one of the key pieces of information Tanner needed, and he planned to profit from the knowledge.

  He had located the strip atop a hill in the center of secluded acreage and was busy at work preparing for the arrival of Alvarado’s men. That Alvarado would send more men, Tanner had no doubt. He had not only killed the man’s troops, but he had threatened his only son.

  More men would come. When they did, they would die.

  His vehicle was hidden beneath brush at the foot of the hill and he had marked a path back to it. He doubted anyone would be in pursuit when it came time to leave, but he prepared for pursuit anyway.

  Better to be safe than dead.

  Tanner was moving down the hill while weaving fishing line among the bushes and small trees that grew upon the slanted land. The fishing line was so thin it was nearly invisible. Anyone not following the same path as Tanner would become tangled in it.

  As he worked, his thoughts turned to Sophia, and he drifted into a memory of her.

  Sophia opened her front door, saw Tanner, and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Tanner pointed to his right cheek. “If you’re planning on slapping me, hit me on this side, the left is getting a little tender.”

  “Are you going by Romeo these days, or Tanner?”

  “It’s Tanner, now should I stay or go?”

  Sophia grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him toward her. “Get your ass in here.”

  Tanner smiled as they came together, but after sharing a kiss, Sophia held him at arm’s length and studied him.

  “You’ve been with someone else since the last time I saw you.”

  “Yes,” Tanner said, and was once again amazed at the perception of women. Sophia knew he had been with someone, not guessed it, and he wondered what sort of sixth sense was at work.

  She tilted her head. “You son of a bitch, there was more than one, wasn’t there?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How many?”

  He sighed. “Three. One was an old friend that I don’t expect to see again.”

  “What about the other two, are you still seeing them?”

  “No, their names were Amber and Brittany. If I had to guess, they’re in Philly right now opening a hair salon.”

  Sophia scowled. “Amber and Brittany? How old were they, sixteen?”

  “They were young, but not that young.”

  Sophia moved closer. “I don’t need a commitment, but I’m not looking for a one-night stand either.”

  “I get that,” Tanner said.

  “What’s the longest you’ve ever been with one woman?”

  Tanner looked lost in memory for a moment, but then answered.

  “It lasted for months.”

  “When was this?”

  “Some time ago.”

  “So, you can be with just one girl then?”

  Tanner took Sophia in his arms. “The right girl, yes.”

  Sophia stared into his eyes as a huge grin spread across her face. “The way I see it, you’ll be too weak to even think about other women.”

  They had kissed again, and then headed to her bedroom.

  The engine sound from a pickup truck stirred Tanner from his memories, and he quickly finished stringing the fishing line.

  The sound had come from the top of the hill. When Tanner returned and looked out past a row of wild bushes, he saw two men removing a generator from the bed of the pickup, an old white Ford F150.

  They added two strings of lights to a set of extension cords, filled the generator with fuel and fired it up, to light the runway. With the test done, the men shut down the generator and settled into a pair of folding chairs with a six-pack of beer.

  The routine looked like old hat to the two men, and probably was, since the landing strip was used regularly as a drop point for illegal drugs.

  Tanner smiled. The plane would be coming soon. That was good, as he had been prepared to wait for as long as a day.

  However, when one of the men answered a phone call, Tanner eavesdropped and learned that they were expecting not one, but two planeloads of cartel hitters.

  He went silently back to his car and eased the trunk open, to stare down at the RPG-7. He’d procured the shoulder-launched, rocket-propelled grenade weapon through Duke.

  He had only one missile because he hadn’t thought he would need more than that. It would destroy one jet. The men on the second plane would have to be dealt with the hard way.

  Tanner removed his canteen from his belt, sipped at his water, and prepared himself for wholesale slaughter.

  363

  The Report

  Forty-four thousand feet above New Jersey, Rico Nazario was in a bad mood, as he gazed out at the darkening sky.

  Rico was tall and handsome with bronze skin and dark wavy hair. He looked like a former athlete but had been a part of one gang or another since he was six-years-old.

  The veteran member of the Alvarado Cartel felt like his time was being wasted. He couldn’t believe he and his team were being sent so far to kill just one man. He’d been assured that the mess in Vera Cruz would be his last field assignment. He’d also been promised that he would be moved up to manage Mexico City, now that Juan Alvarado was expanding into New York.

  That was the problem with doing your job better than anyone else, it made you the go-to guy whenever a crisis popped up. Rico was sick of the streets, tired of killing, and just wanted to sit back and
run things.

  If not for Juan Alvarado, Rico would be next in line for the throne.

  Juan Alvarado, Rico sneered as he thought about the young man. The punk strutted around as if he were a king, but without his last name, he would be just another no-name hoodlum.

  His father, Alonso Alvarado, now there was a man. He had come up from the slums just as Rico would do years later, and the two of them shared a rapport because of it.

  But now, once again, Rico was being sent in to save Juan’s ass, and all because the punk couldn’t handle one man.

  Rico smiled. It wasn’t all bad. He liked New York City, loved the variety and seemingly endless number of women and restaurants. He would kill Tanner within a couple of days and then take some time off to enjoy Manhattan, and possibly even take in a Broadway show.

  Despite his upbringing in the streets, Rico had acquired an education and earned a degree in finance, knowledge he used to handle his own financial affairs. Along with his native Spanish, he also spoke English and French.

  He sighed in annoyance and clicked opened the new file on his laptop. Even the Alvarado Cartel had nerds working for them. The office gnomes had cobbled together a case file on the man known as Tanner. The cover page warned that the material was a mixture of fact and conjecture but stated that it gave an accurate view of the man and his abilities.

  Rico began reading. By the time he reached the second page of the report, he realized he might have underestimated the situation.

  When he arrived at the part where the recently deceased Robert Vance had stated that Tanner single-handedly killed twenty men, he sat up straighter and called over to the man seated across the aisle from him.

  “Mateo, have you read the report on Tanner?”

  Mateo shook his head, which caused the black mop he called hair to fly in all directions. He was a short man with a shorter temper. He had killed both young and old since he was a boy. If you pointed him at someone, he killed them.