Cold Blooded Assassin Book 6: Red Horizon (Nick McCarty Assassin)

“None,” Sonny answered, slipping into the driver’s seat. “He won’t have a taste before we’re all together on the beach.”


“Yep. His favorites, Benny and Sammy, are out in harm’s way.”

*

A half dozen young teens Benny recognized blocked his progress down the sidewalk with Sammy out of nowhere. Benny immediately signaled Sammy down with the flat of his hand. He tried a smile.

“Hi guys. Nice day to tool around after school, huh?”

“We heard you Narced some friends of ours, Benny boy,” the lead guy said, pulling a knife out. “We was watchin’, home boy. That can’t go down. We need product at the school and you just shut our asses down.”

Benny measured the teens in front of him with the same perceptive eye he gauged any confrontation in life since being trained by his Dad. Except for the leader, the others were run-of-the-mill high school thugs. The leader, Bart Crowelly, did his best each day to provoke Benny, but failed to get more than a smile.

“Don’t even think about putting your mutt on us,” Bart warned. “We’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” Quinn said, jogging into the middle of Bart’s crew. “If Benny gives Sammy the attack order, there won’t be anything left of you punks but pieces.”

The crew backed away from the huge Marine. One at the rear tried to stab Quinn after stepping to the side. Quinn caught the hand and broke it at the wrist with a side-hand strike, leaving the hand to hang by skin and the knife clattering to the pavement. Quinn smashed the knife wielder across the face with the back of his hand, sending him catapulting to his back. Quinn pointed at Bart. “Benny wants you, prick. I’m going to frisk you. Move, and I have Sammy frisk you. You don’t want that, partner. The rest of you lock your hands behind your heads. Anyone that doesn’t gets what Mack the Knife got.”

Bart’s crew did as instructed. Bart stood stock still, looking down at Quinn’s gasping for breath Mack the Knife, trying to get enough breath from his meeting with the pavement to breathe and grip his useless hand. Quinn relieved Bart of everything, throwing the cache into a pile. Bart carried a 9mm Taurus automatic at his back. All the new colored pills being hawked to the young and clueless were in a plastic bag in Bart’s hoodie, along with a switchblade knife. Disarmed, Bart tried the outraged attitude.

“You can’t do this! A lawyer would eat you alive over this.”

Quinn smiled, while Benny made a hand gesture to Sammy. The dog leaped to guard the crew with teeth bared and drooling growl. “I’m not a lawyer. Benny’s talked to me about you, shit-head. He worked the sting to get your suppliers. We have them in custody. Benny had it in mind to fix you after finishing with the bust. He’s all yours, Benny.”

Grinning, Benny moved around Bart with the sudden look of a predator. “I’ve listened to you porking me at school all this time, Crowelly. Here I am. My brother Quinn won’t interfere. He knew I dreamed about a meeting between us once we busted your suppliers. When I get done with you I promise you won’t want anymore.”

Crowelly began crouching into a fighting stance, but Benny moved with lightning speed to drop and leg whip Bart to the pavement. He rolled atop the prone Crowelly with devastating elbow strikes turning Bart’s face into bloody mush. Benny didn’t quit until Bart began sobbing and crying. Benny straightened away from his foe.

Quinn watched with an older brother’s pride. “Nice. Feel better, Ben?”

Benny nodded, never taking his eyes off of Bart. All the school hallway baiting and bullying had left a mark. They called Crowelly ‘Black Bart’ at the school because of his color and tactics. Benny was black too, but he cared not at all for the race rage at the school. He knew Crowelly to be one of its prominent instigators. Benny kicked Bart in the side, cracking a rib, and eliciting a scream from Crowelly. Benny remembered the first lesson Nick taught him – never let your adversary up. Make sure if you get him down, he stays down, and if he lives, he remembers the moment for the rest of his life.

Quinn turned to the rest. “Strip down to your underwear and do it quickly. Anyone still clothed when I count to ten gets their faces rearranged.”