by Chuck Dixon
Levon Cade
The Complete Series
Chuck Dixon
Levon Cade
The Complete Series
Kindle Edition
© Copyright 2019 (as revised) Chuck Dixon
Wolfpack Publishing
6032 Wheat Penny Avenue
Las Vegas, NV 89122
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.
eBook ISBN 978-1-64119-920-9
Contents
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I. Levon’s Trade
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
II. Levon’s Night
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
III. Levon’s Run
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
IV. Levon’s Kin
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
V. Levon’s War
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapte
r 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
If you liked Levon Cade you might like: Retribution, by Brent Towns
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Levon Cade
Levon’s Trade
by
Chuck Dixon
© Copyright 2019 (as revised) Chuck Dixon
Wolfpack Publishing
6032 Wheat Penny Avenue
Las Vegas, NV 89122
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.
1
The Escalade looked out of place on the construction site. Shiny as a beetle’s back. It was parked with the dusty pickups and bangers. The two guys who got out of it didn’t belong there either. Black jeans, snakeskin boots, silver rings and print shirts with the cuffs buttoned but tails untucked. One of them wore a Stetson hat, a straw job, had to set him back three hundred dollars. They picked their way over the rutted lot, carefully skirting a pond of muddy water still full from rain two days before.
The rental blocks were going up fast on a hundred-acre lot just off the throughway exit. And they were filling with tenants as fast as they could be built. By the time the first course of block was laid on a thirty unit the leases were filled out. In a sour economy constructing temporary housing for uncertain folks was the only bright spot since the Toyota plant had shut down two years earlier.
The pair from the Escalade walked to the men crowded around the lunch wagon waiting on coffee and egg biscuits. They cut out a man standing on line. A few words were exchanged, no heat, no raised voices. The Escalade pair walked the other man away behind Unit Six and out of sight of the others. The laborer walked before the men in the snakeskin boots — just three guys looking for a spot for a private conversation.
Levon watched them from the cab of the company-owned pickup. Its role as a security vehicle was only made plain by the bar of lights bolted down atop the cab. Otherwise, it was just another vehicle in the fleet with the Wiley & Manners Contract Construction logo on the doors. Like the truck, Levon Cade's job was made clear only by the windbreaker he wore over his button-down shirt and jeans. It said SECURITY across the back in big white letters. Other than that he looked like a site foreman in his Timberline boots and company ball cap.
He was just off a graveyard shift of keeping an eye on the lot. Stacks of block and thousands of board feet could walk off a site like this overnight. A cup of black coffee then he’d clock out and maybe go for a run or hit the gym on the way home.
He sipped the coffee and watched the three men walk away from the lunch wagon toward the corner of the nearest unit. The laborer was known to him or at least familiar. Young guy. He’d been here since the work started six months ago. Dropped off six days a week before sunrise by the jobbers who brought illegals to the site in buses or vans. He was brother or cousin to some of the other men on the crew. Always joking and laughing with each other but all business at hammer time. Guatemalans from their accents.
The trio walked out of Levon’s line of sight. He set his coffee in the holder and stepped out of the Silverado to walk around the back of Unit Six himself awhile.
The young guy was on the ground. The hombre in the straw hat was standing with one foot on the fallen man’s chest. He leaned on the bent knee to show the prostrate man his teeth.
"You still owe us," straw hat said. Guat accent like the man on the ground. They preyed on their own — second oldest story in time.
“We owe you shit,” the man on the ground said. He got a silver-tipped boot in the kidneys for that.
“We paid you. Five thousand each. Our families paid,” he said, folding up.
Coyotes.
“That was a down payment. You know this word? Now you pay us, every week. Fifty bucks.” Straw hat put more weight on his bent knee. The man under him grunted.
“What if there’s no work?” the laborer said.
“There’s always work. Pick melons. Suck some dick. I don’t care as long as you pay the rent on your ass and I don’t have to come around here again.”
Straw hat stood up to step off the man under him, his full weight on the man’s ribs. The laborer drew his knees up against the pain.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
Straw hat and his partner turned to see a man, a tall gabacho, walking easily toward them from the early morning shadows of the three-story building of bare block and plywood. A rangy looking white dude in clean work clothes. His eyes were hidden by the shade of the ball cap on his head.
“A private matter,” straw hat said.
“That’s just it, sir. You’re on private property. Uninvited.” The tall white guy stopped ten feet shy of them and tilted his cap back. Straw hat could see the scars along the man’s brows now. There was hard tissue there, healed from many cuts and breaks. Straw hat did his share of boxing down in Guat City. He knew the signs of a guy who could take a hit.
“We have business with this boy.” Straw hat smiled.
“That boy’s business is working on these units. My business is to see that he does,” the white guy said. Professional and polite like a cop. But without the cop’s false smile. This guy wasn’t smiling or even trying to pretend to.
“Why don’t you crawl back up your own ass, bolillo?” straw hat said in Spanish, teeth flashing and eyes crinkled in amusement. His partner coughed a laugh.
“Does your little mother know you talk like that,” the white guy said back in fluent Spanish. He even used a Guat accent. A twist of the knife.
Straw hat reached back under the tail of his shirt. His hand stopped, fingers stretched, tips touching the rubberized grip of the handgun tucked in the band there. His eyes were locked on the white guy’s right hand.
Somehow a nasty black automatic had materialized in the gabacho’s fist. One second his hand was empty. The next there was a pistolo in it, its basilisk eye staring unblinking into straw hat’s heart.
“You two are going to keep your hands where I can see them and turn around,” Levon said, closing the gap between them. He jerked his head to the laborer who got off the ground and first walked, then ran back toward the lunch wagon and his tools.