Both Jason and Beatrice were stunned and stayed—perplexed.
“Are you coming?” He called from somewhere.
They could no longer see him. Beatrice looked at Jason with wide eyes, as if waiting for his permission to move. He gave a slight nod; they moved forward, slowly. His weight was getting heavier.
“Are you okay?”
“I need to sit down.”
“I think we’re almost there.” Beatrice encouraged.
The path led to an enormous underground room lavishly decorated with old weapons of war: spears, swords, knight helmets, arrows… The rear wall was full of reproductions of old masters’ paintings. From the Mona Lisa to Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Romero said. “You’re going to be here for a while.”
Romero disappeared into a room. Beatrice helped Jason to a comfortable sofa. He all but plummeted into it, almost dragging her down with him.
“Sorry.” He blushed.
“Don’t worry about it, are you comfortable?” She fussed.
“Yeah, thanks.”
Beatrice retreated to a chair opposite him. She stared at him.
“What?” He grunted as he tried to move his hand around. His chest was also throbbing.
“What was that, earlier? You tensed up.”
Jason looked to the room where Romero had gone into.
“My daughter, I thought about her.” He sat up straight and leaned forward, “Aargh…” He took a breath, “Maybe he…”
Romero reappeared with three glasses in one hand, a bottle of vodka in the other, and a box underneath his arm. He put the glasses down on a table in the middle of the room and walked up to Jason, kneeling in front of him.
“We need to fix that up,” he pointed to Jason’s hand, “you’ll get infected.”
He put the first aid kid on the ground beside him and took a hold of Jason’s hand.
“Ah!” Jason pulled back.
Romero eyed him, “Don’t be a baby.” He held an open hand for Jason to bring his hand back.
“I could do it.” Beatrice offered, knowing she’d work much gentler.
“Don’t bother,” Romero said. It sounded like a threat, so Beatrice just sat like an obedient child.
Romero examined Jason’s hand, “It still looks okay. Now, count to three.”
“Huh?”
Romero tilted the vodka bottle and poured the alcohol over Jason’s wound. At first, he felt nothing. But when the vodka started working, he groaned loudly and wanted to curl into a bundle from the agony.
“You could have warned me.” Jason hissed.
“I did… The bullet went straight through. You’re lucky; we don’t have to scrape around in your hand for it.”
“If you hadn’t shot me—OW!”
Romero poured more vodka over his hand.
“Shit!” Jason exclaimed and looked away as if the pain would follow his gaze.
“Could you be more careful, mister assassin man? It sounds like he’s in a lot of pain…” Beatrice pleaded.
Finally, Romero stopped pouring. Jason inhaled deeply. Romero scratched around in the first aid kit, revealing cotton balls and a bandage. He wiped away the blood and then placed clean ones on both sides of the wound. He finally covered Jason’s hand with the bandage.
“There, you will get better in no time.” He said and slapped Jason on the shoulder.
Jason just stared at him, infuriated with the mere idea that he could be looking at his daughter’s killer.
“That’s no way to look at the person who just saved your life.” Romero retorted as he moved toward the table where he had put the three glasses earlier. He poured vodka into each one. He handed a glass to Jason, who gulped it up as if his life depended on it.
“Oh, no, thank you,” Beatrice said as Romero held a glass out to her, “I don’t drink.”
“Just have a little. It will calm your nerves,” he said gently, still holding the glass for her to take.
She hesitated for a moment, but then took it. She frowned when she smelled nothing from sniffing it. Carlos smiled at her innocence.
“Can I have more?”
“Sure” Romero turned to Jason and poured some more for him.
He finished it in one go. Beatrice took a sip. She sat back, swirling the colorless, odorless liquid in her glass.
“You said you would tell us about The Syndicate.” She said in a flat voice.
“Oh yeah,” Romero said. “The Syndicate, they issued the contract to kill you,” he looked at Jason, “it’s the most organized criminal system in the world.”
Tate walked out of Leo’s house. Leo followed him, with the Blood Brothers behind him.
There was no one around. Leo had sent his men home on Tate’s instructions earlier that evening. Now, he wished he hadn’t. He had no idea if Carlos would make it in time; and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he could trust the hot-head to get the job done.
In the distance, a gunshot went off.
“Shit!” One of the Blood Brothers yelled, instinctively grabbing onto his arm.
Blood trickled through his fingers. Tate barked orders, and they immediately pulled out their guns.
A streak of bullets wheezed through the air, hitting one of them in the chest. His lifeless body hit the ground with a thud. At that, the remaining men sought cover, scattering in different directions.
“Jack!” The one brother called to the lifeless body surrounded by blood, “Jack! Jack!”
“Shut up, fool!”
Leo observed Tate and the remaining brother, calculating the distance between them and him. The brother, at least, was distracted. He’d struggle to take a clear shot at him. Tate was another story. Earlier, Leo saw that he had a weapon on him, but he didn’t know if he was a sharpshooter.
“You’d better be ready for me, Carlos.” He whispered.
He let out a loud shout, causing more bullets to fly in their direction. As soon as it subsided, he sprang up and dashed across the lawn.
“Hey! Come back here!” Tate demanded.
A shot came from behind, hitting him in the shoulder, halting his momentum. His survival instinct was too powerful to register the pain immediately. He was only a few feet away from the main gate. It would open automatically when he got near as it worked with biometric security. He grunted and ran again. He heard another gunshot, but it missed him. When he was near the gate, it slid open.
“Get in!” Carlos screamed from the car parked outside the gate.
Leo smiled for a moment, not believing his own luck. He sprinted toward the car and got in. He was still closing the door when Carlos stepped on the accelerator, sending the car shooting into the night.
“Jack!” Paul wailed over his brother’s body.
Tate stood at a distance, waiting for the go-ahead from his tech guy. They were stuck in Leo’s premises. The advanced security system wouldn’t let them out, so he had to get a hacker to infiltrate the system to unlock the gates.
I’ll get you, Martinez…
“We must go after them.” Paul growled and rose to his feet.
“We will get them in due time.” Tate said and looked up as all the gates opened simultaneously. He gave a relieved sigh, “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll tell my boys to come and take your brother’s body.”
Paul followed Tate to the car they had arrived in earlier. Tate walked around to look for damage but found none. They climbed in, Tate behind the steering wheel.
“Where are we going?” Paul asked after a long silence.
“You go back to your house, I go back to mine. We’re done for tonight.” Tate said gently.
“What? And let those assholes be? They killed my brother!”
“And we’ll get them for it.” Tate pulled the car off the road and turned around to face Paul, “I’ll contact you when we have a location. For now, let them think they’ve escaped. You’ll deal with them personally when the time comes, I guarantee it.”
“Okay,” Paul opened the car door, “Don’t keep me on a line. If I don’t hear from you within two days, I’ll hunt them down myself.” He got out and slammed the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Urgh!” Thomas sat up in bed, trying to rub the tiredness away. He eyed his digital clock in disgust: 03:00 AM. His wife mumbled angrily.
He stood up and walked sluggishly to the desk where his phone was buzzing. He thought about how he was getting too old to answer midnight police calls. That’s why becoming a politician was a more attractive prospect…
“Yes?”
“Thomas, where are you?”
The voice woke him up like a bucket of ice-cold water. Shivers ran up and down his spine. He looked over his shoulder to where his wife was now sleeping peacefully. He opened the bedroom door softly to leave the room.
“Leo? What’s wrong?” He whispered.
“Where are you?” Leo barked. Thomas could hear the anxiety in his voice.
“Are you kidding me? It’s the middle of the night.” Thomas spoke louder. “What’s going on? You’ve never called me at this hour.”
“Don’t be smart! And don’t answer my questions with questions. I’ll cut your tongue out the next time I see you! Where are you?!”
“I’m at home.” Thomas muttered.
“What? Where did you say?”
“I said I am at home.” Thomas said through grated teeth.
“All right, we’re staying with you for a while.”
“Whoa! Leo, you can’t do that. And who are we?”
“We’ll be there soon.” Leo said and hung up.
Thomas smashed his phone into the wall and started pacing, wondering how he would explain a guest like Leo and whoever else was tagging along to his wife. He thought about how he could protect his teenage daughter from all this. Perhaps he’d send her to a friend’s house for a few days.
“Is everything okay?”
Thomas swung around. His wife was leaning against the doorway with a worried expression. He smiled and gently approached her.
“Yeah,” He stroked her arm, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.” He kissed her on the forehead and told her he was expecting company. This was nothing unusual, and so she didn’t ask questions. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek before going back to bed.
All too soon, there was an eerie honk outside. He rushed out of his house and opened the garage door for them to drive in. As Thomas locked the gate, he scanned the street.
As the men got out of the car, Thomas stared at Carlos, who smiled arrogantly and gave him a nod. He didn’t know the Jamaican.
“The judge didn’t tell me they let you go.”
Carlos and Badrick burst out in laughter, “We took liberties and helped move the process along…” Badrick added in an elated voice.
Thomas lifted an eyebrow at Leo, “You brought a convicted, escaped criminal to the Chief of Police’s house? What the hell were you thinking?”
“Don’t make your problem mine…” Leo scoffed and looked around the garage. He grunted as the pain from the gunshot wound started taking its toll.
Thomas ground his teeth, wondering why he ever joined the underworld. It all seemed worthless now.
“I’m Badrick,” The Jamaican approached and extended a hand. Thomas took his hand, shook it just once, and gave him a stern nod.
“You three will stay in the flat at the back of the house. If you enter my house, I’ll kill every one of you.” He warned. “Now, why are you here?”
“Your Detective escaped. We need to…”
“What? He’s alive?”
“Shut up!” Leo hissed in a murderous tone.
“But you said you would handle…”
Leo’s solid right fist hit him on his lower left jaw. He staggered to the ground, looking up at Thomas with disgust.
“I said you should shut the hell up!” Leo shouted on Thomas.
“I’m sorry,” Thomas muttered, but he bit his lips, infuriated that Leo would hit him after so many years of covering his ass. He’d grown too sure of himself, and he needed to be taught a lesson, Thomas thought. He stood up from the ground and gestured to the men to go outside while rubbing over his jaw.
“Let’s get your wound patched up inside.”
“Tate Mike is after me. If I can get to Jason first, The Syndicate will be off my back. But I don’t know how to get to Jason before Tate gets to us.” Leo said as they walked across the lawn to the flat.
“Why don’t we track him down?” Thomas suggested as he unlocked the flat.
He let Leo and his companions enter first. Badrick whistled as he observed the lavish, fully furnished flat.
“I can ask the computer geeks at the department to get their locations for us.” Thomas continued.
Why didn’t I think of this? Leo thought to himself as he eyed Thomas.
“Get on with it then.” He snapped.
He sat down on a chair and took off his shirt; Carlos cleaned the wound.
Thomas wanted to say something but restrained himself. He moved to the telephone and dialed a number. Privileges came with being the Chief of Police; the phone rang for about a second or two when a shrill voice came on the line.
“Who is calling me so early in the morning?” The woman’s voice boomed over the receiver. Even Badrick, who was across the room, heard it and chuckled.
“This is captain Thomas.” Thomas said with a snap in his voice—yes, Leo could push him around… But he could push people around, too. He silently reveled in the fact that Leo needed his help.
“Oh, captain Thomas, what makes you call so early in the morning?” She asked, adjusting her tone.
“I want you to find to someone for me. It’s urgent.” He said hurriedly.
“No problem. Let me have their phone number.” She said.
“You don’t look surprised.”
“We know about them already. But how do we get to them?” Jason asked.
“How? They’re a well-guarded secret.”
“Nope… All criminals are sloppy at some point—The Syndicate is no exception. And they’ve been quite sloppy lately…” Beatrice said.
“I’m not sloppy.”
“Oh, really? Is that why you ended up needing my care all those years ago?”
“Hey, focus!” Jason snapped, pulling the other two out of their walk down memory lane.
“How do we get to them, Romero?”
“You don’t. I’m sorry.”
“What? Don’t you ever contact them?”
“It all happens faceless. Every contract, every payment… It’s always done on encrypted servers.”
Jason looked to Beatrice, “Can you break in?”
“I, uh…”
“You’re not pulling her into this.”
“She’s the one who found them in the first place!”
Romero eyed her, impressed. She smiled slightly, “It’s true. My brother became suspicious about certain activities a few years ago, and together we started tracking and linking seemingly unrelated events. At first, we thought The Syndicate was just a buzzword. As we gathered more intel, we realized they were the ones orchestrating everything. But Walter, he dug too deep and…”
“What happened?” Romero asked, concerned.
“He was murdered.” Jason interrupted their moment, “Shot with incredible precision in the middle of a busy Chinese restaurant.”
Romero looked at Jason with a frown; he recognized the challenge in his eyes. He realized that Jason knew it was him who killed Beatrice’s brother. But there was something else in his eyes.
“You have a problem or something?” He asked Jason.
“You mean besides the fact that I’m having a merry drinking party with the assassin who was hired to kill me?” Jason smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn’t ready to confront him about Catherine yet.
Romero chuckled, “Well, this is a first for me, too.” He looked at Beatrice, “I’m sorry ab
out your brother.”
There was sincerity in his voice. If only she knew he was apologizing and not sharing his condolences…
“Thank you,” she smiled politely.
“I should contact my superior; he’ll know what to do with all this intel.” Jason stuck his hand into his pocket and started dialing a number.
“Put that phone down.” Romero flew up from his seat and grabbed it out of Jason’s hand.
“What’s your problem?”
“You can’t call your superior.”
“The hell I can’t! Give me my phone back.”
“He’s one of them.” Romero said plainly and put the phone down on the coffee table.
Jason stared at him as if he spoke in an unfamiliar language.
“Oh, you missed that part, eh? Your beloved District Attorney is a Syndicate Member. And he’s desperately trying to kill Leo Martinez, another Syndicate member, who’s desperately trying to kill you.”
“That’s bullshit…”
“Yeah? Fine then,” Romero picked up Jason’s phone and threw it to him, “call him. Let’s see if you last the night.”
“I..”
“What is that?” Beatrice squeaked.
“What’s what?” Romero asked.
“That dull beeping sound… Don’t you hear it?”
“Shit!”
TO BE CONTINUED
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rhiley McCabe is an emerging fiction author and the creator of the nail-biting thriller series, “In The Line of Fire”.
“Blood & Bullet” is the fourth book in the series.
Rhiley specializes in the thriller, crime and suspense genres; his work promises to have you at the edge of your seat from start to finish.
Rhiley lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland with his wife and five children. They often take trips to other countries during summer months. The inspiration for his stories come from the many places he visits and the people he gets to meet on these trips.
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