One Last Bullet: An Action Thriller (Adrian Hell Series Book 3) (23 page)

I can totally relate…

21:20

We’re flying across the city, huddled in the back of the Black Hawk as Oscar expertly pilots us toward Trent’s building. We’re sitting and strapped into our seats. Josh and I have traveled in the back of a chopper many times during our days in the military, but Frank looks a little under the weather.

“You okay?” I shout to him over the roar of the blades.

He simply shakes his head and continues his deep breathing. I look over at Josh and smile.

“I don’t think he’s a very good flier,” I say.

We’ve left the Winnebago at Oscar’s place and kitted ourselves out with every weapon we have. I’ve got my Berettas at my back. Frank has opted for a Mossberg 500 shotgun, while Josh has chosen an M-16 assault rifle.

As we near our destination, I see the blue flashing lights below us, blocking off the entire street. We bank left and approach the building from the back. There’s no hiding the fact a huge helicopter is overhead, but there’s no sense in making things too easy for them on the ground. As soon as we got near enough that we’d be heard over the storm, calls would’ve been made to every single piece of shit inside that building, making sure they’re ready for us.

Definitely not the most discreet entrance I’ve ever made, but I’ll take easy over quiet any day of the week.

The tower has a flat roof with a fire escape on it, and Oscar hovers low so we can jump out. Josh goes first, followed by Frank. I pat Oscar on the shoulder.

“I owe you one, thanks,” I yell.

“Bullshit!” he yells back. “You paid me a helluva lot of money for not much work. If anything, I owe
you
!”

“See you again, Oscar.”

I jump down, landing on the roof with a thud. I draw both of my Berettas and take a deep breath, composing myself. Frank appears on my left, the double-crunch of him cocking the Mossberg loud in the rain.

“I’m ready,” he says, nodding to me. “You’ve killed Trent, now let’s kill his legacy.”

On my right, Josh stands next to me with his M-16 locked and loaded.

“You good?” I ask.

“I live for this shit, Boss!” he replies, barely able to contain his excitement.

We all stand side by side, our eyes fixed on the fire escape in front of us. We’re soaked to the skin from the torrential rain that’s pelting the ground around us. I take another deep breath. The numbness I’ve felt since killing Trent is finally letting up, allowing me to lose myself in the task at hand. Allowing me to start appreciating what we’ve accomplished. Taking down an entire criminal empire on your own is no mean feat, but we’ve done a pretty good job so far.

“You
ready?” asks Josh.

I turn to look at him, finally letting my Inner Satan off its leash. I feel the fire behind my eyes—the anger… the untamed fury… the pleasure… and I simply smile back.

“Yeah… you’re ready,” he says.

We head for the door, full of purpose and ready for war. But, deep down we all know that getting in is the easy part… the challenge will be getting back out.

34.

MEANWHILE…

20:16

It had been a long and silent journey from Allentown, and the weather had taken a drastic turn for the worse along the way. As they finally came to a stop in front a tower block, thunder rumbled over the noise of the pouring rain outside.

Duncan got out of the car and walked around to the other side, opening Jimmy Manhattan’s door and dragging him out. Ahead of them, the other vehicle had pulled over and the three men were dragging an injured Tarantina across the sidewalk.

Without a word, Duncan escorted him toward the main entrance, flanked either side by, what he assumed, was Trent’s private security. As they approached, the door flew open and a man came running toward them, visibly shaken.

“We got a problem,” he said, ignoring Manhattan completely.

“Bennett, what’s happened?” asked Duncan.

“It’s the Boss… he’s dead,” he replied.

His eyes went wide. “Mr. Trent? How?”

Manhattan chuckled, just loud enough that they could hear him. “I bet I can tell you how,” he said.

Duncan turned to him. “You—shut the fuck up,” he ordered before addressing Bennett. “Was it him?”

“Yeah, Adrian Hell and his partner attacked him at the Steelers game. I saw the news as it was happening. They had a big fight in the crowd. Hell was a maniac, man.”

“Let’s get up to the office and sort this from there. We gotta make some calls.”

They all marched Manhattan and Tarantina into the building, across the lobby and straight to the elevator.

“No one who ain’t invited comes through here without my say-so,” said Duncan to the man sitting behind the front desk as they walked past.

They came out on the top floor and turned right, walking straight into a penthouse office.

“Sit there,” he said to Manhattan, pointing to one of the leather sofas in front of the desk. Behind them, the three other men escorting Tarantina entered, shoving him down on the sofa opposite Manhattan, before grouping together at the side of the desk, in front of window looking out at the storm gradually raging across the city.

“So what do we do?” asked Duncan.

“We prepare for him coming here,” replied Bennett. “It’s the only logical move he could make. He wanted to finish Trent off, right? Well, now he’s killed him, he’ll come after what’s left of his organization.”

Duncan nodded in agreement then turned to the men standing with them.

“You four, go and gather every man in the building, tell them to arm themselves and call me if they see anything. Then get ten of your best and get them on this floor, guarding the elevator.”

21:23

An hour or so passed without as much as a word spoken to either Manhattan or Tarantina. Different men were in and out of the office, reporting to Duncan and Bennett.

Manhattan looked on with a bemused expression on his face. It was refreshing to see people rushing around in blind panic at the prospect of Adrian Hell coming for blood, and he not be one of them.

“You alright?” he asked Tarantina, who sat facing him, barely conscious.

“I’m good, Boss,” he replied. “Just lost a lot of blood—not feelin’ too great, y’know?”

“This will all soon be over, don’t worry.”

Duncan and Bennett walked over to them as the other men left to carry out their tasks. They stood side by side, arms folded, glaring down at them.

“So, you’re the guy who took out Johnny King and staked his claim in Allentown, huh?” asked Duncan. “Mr. Trent was gonna make an example out of you, so I figure that job now falls to us.”

“On the contrary,” said Manhattan, unfazed. “I believe Wilson Trent was going to extend the olive branch and embrace a mutually beneficial partnership between both our organizations. Something I now believe would be in your best interest to honor.”

“How you figure that?” asked Bennett.

“Because I have no doubt in my mind that Adrian Hell is on his way here with the sole intention of killing everyone in this building. But with my help, that could be avoided.”

“I think we can handle him,” said Duncan. “We’ve got nearly cop in the goddamn city stationed out front.”

“You don’t
handle
someone like him. You could have a squadron of Marines down there and it wouldn’t make a blind bit of different. No, you need
my
help if you wish to see tomorrow. Or, you can go ahead and kill me, ensuring the complete and total destruction of Trent’s empire. Your call, gentleman.”

Manhattan relaxed on the sofa and crossed his legs, catching Tarantina’s questioning eye long enough to let him know he was confident he’d done enough to guarantee their survival.

The two bodyguards looked at each other, their bodies tense, seemingly angry at the fact they knew Manhattan was right and didn’t want him to admit it.

“Okay, what do you have in mind?” asked Duncan, after a minute.

Manhattan stood and walked around the sofa, gazing at the room almost carefree, acting the part beautifully.

“To clarify something—yes, I ordered Mr. King be killed, but it was Adrian Hell who pulled the trigger. Mr. Hell and myself have somewhat of a history together, and going into business on my own, I’d rather stick with the devil I know, so to speak. He agreed to take the contract I offered him to eliminate Johnny King—a move anyone in my position would’ve done, from a business perspective—in exchange for a future favor. He carried out the contract and found out King worked for Trent. He called me to tell me that Trent is likely to seek retribution and would be coming for me. I presumed he would forcibly summon me to him first, which he did.”

“How is any of this helping us?” asked Bennett, crossing his arms impatiently.

“After doing some research,” Manhattan continued, ignoring the interruption, “it came to my attention that Adrian and Trent also had a history, so I let things play out, figuring the favor he would call in from me would likely be related to attacking Trent. From experience, I would never bet against Adrian Hell, and I was right. And now, as I predicted, I’ve wound up exactly where I thought I would, in a position to have this very conversation.”

“Get to the point, or I’ll shoot you,” said Duncan.

“My suggestion would be to have you willingly install me as your new employer. Give me control of this business, instantly merging it with my own, giving me power over the entire state. Once Adrian arrives, I’ll convince him to walk away and leave things to me
before
he starts shooting our people. Given our recent dealings, I believe he will see it as an opportunity having me in charge—an unlikely, yet useful, ally who’s able to do him a bigger favor than originally thought... Once he’s convinced there’s no threat from me, I’ll bury the sonofabitch. I’ve been setting him up from the very beginning, to have my revenge. Everything’s going exactly as I’ve planned.”

“Can you guarantee that you can stop him?” asked Bennett, unable to hide his growing concerns.

Manhattan looked at them both in the eye, then turned to Tarantina and regarded his wounded lieutenant for a moment before answering.

“Yes.”

The bodyguards looked at each other and shrugged.

“What do you need from us,
Boss
?” asked Duncan.

Manhattan smiled, happy with his own progress. But his small celebration was short-lived, as the sound of a helicopter overhead grew gradually louder.

“Ah, speak of the devil…” he said.

35.

ADRIAN HELL

21:27

As the door swings open, Josh steps inside and expertly checks the angles—his gun aimed forward, the barrel following his line of sight.

“Clear,” he says, after a moment.

Frank follows him, swinging his shotgun around with a technique he’s probably learned more from watching movies than he has from any actual combat experience. I move in last, both Berettas drawn and thirsty for blood.

Immediately inside the door is a metal staircase. I lean over the handrail and look down. It appears to lead to a maintenance area a couple of flights below us. We head down the stairs, but pause after just one flight. We hear a lot of commotion from underneath us.

“The helicopter maybe wasn’t the stealthiest approach,” observes Josh, his trademark sarcasm like a shield on his arm as he enters battle.

“I’m done being discreet,” I reply, matter-of-factly.

Frank turns to me. “When did you
start
?”

Josh laughs. “Oh, the new boy shoots and he scores! You just got served, Boss!”

“You’re both aware I have currently two guns and a real short temper, right?” I say.

They both fall silent again, re-focusing on infiltrating the top floor. I do enjoy our banter, especially during these types of situations. I’ve always said it’s far easier to get through a tough spot if you act on instinct and relax into the moment.

We reach the bottom of the staircase and approach the fire exit, which must lead us out onto the floor. Once again, Josh takes point and quietly pushes the door open, letting in a crack of light from the corridor beyond it.

“Looks clear,” whispers Josh. “I can see a closed door, unguarded, off to the left. I’ve no idea if it’s Trent’s office, or if that’s at the opposite end.”

I nod. “All the action will be near the elevators and outside Trent’s door,” I say, “so that room there is something else. We’ll do things properly and clear it before moving on.”

I look at Frank, who seems more agitated as the seconds ticked by.

“You alright?” I ask him.

He looks down at his Mossberg, then at the floor, almost as if he feels ashamed. “I can’t do this, Adrian,” he says.

I holster one of my guns and put my hand on his shoulder.

“I know, Frank. It’s alright. We couldn’t have got here if it weren’t for you, but this quest for revenge is mine, not yours. You’ve only spent your years being pissed at me, and I’d like to think we’ve moved past that now. But I’ve fixated on Trent since the day I found my girls dead, and I need this.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve spent my years blaming you, but my hatred has always been for Trent, same as you. But now he’s dead, this all feels like overkill to me.”

“Maybe it is,” I say with a shrug. “But I killed Trent with my own hands, and I felt nothing. After all this time, there was no closure, no sense of freedom or happiness. There was nothing. This is my way of making sure I can move on. It’s not enough to kill him. I need to bury him so deep it’s like he never existed. And burning this place to the ground is the only way I can do that.”

He nods, understanding if not agreeing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I’m with you—let’s finish this.”

On cue, Josh pushes the door open slowly and sticks his head out, looking down the corridor.

“It doglegs slightly to the right,” he says. “I’ve got no visibility of the far end, but at the same time, neither would anyone who might be down there, so we’re clear for now.”

“Move out,” I say.

We walk quietly out into the corridor and look around. Frank and Josh move into position either side of the door nearest to us, and I stand in front of it. We listen for a moment, but I can’t hear anything from inside. Time is a factor here, so I simply open it and walk in.

It’s a large room that appears to have been used for storage. Cardboard boxes line the walls all around, and there are some shelving units, with a metal frame, positioned in the center of the room. What I didn’t expect to find, however, is a young girl, possibly a teenager, gagged and tied to a chair in the middle of the room, to the left of the shelving. There are two men standing watching her—their backs to the door.

I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s not right. She’s just a kid… what would Trent want with her?

I need to stay quiet, so I can’t shoot these assholes.

The men turn and stare at me, momentarily frozen in shock. Without hesitating, I charge at them, kicking the guy on the left in the balls as I approach them. As he doubles over in pain, I kick him again in the face, like I’m kicking a field goal from the forty yard line. He flies backward to the floor and I turn quickly, lashing out with my right hand and catching the remaining guy on the side of his face with one of my guns. I hit him on the temple and he drops like a stone.

I put my guns away and look at the girl, whose eyes have gone wide. I put a finger to my lips.

“Shhh… it’s okay, kid,” I say, quietly. “I’m not here to hurt you, I promise. I’ll get you out of here.”

She nods slowly, and I pulled the gag from her mouth.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods again without speaking.

I untie her hands and help her up, pointing to the door where Josh and Frank are standing.

“These are my friends,” I say. “Don’t be afraid, okay?” We walk over, and I turn to Frank. “Get her out of here to safety. Josh and I can handle this.”

Without a word, Frank nods and holds out his shotgun to me.

“Give ‘em Hell, Adrian.”

“I didn’t get my name by doing anything less.”

“I’ll head back to the roof and call Oscar, see if he can come and get us,” he says.

“Thanks for everything, Frank,” Josh says. “I’ll see you when this is all over.”

“Take care, the both of you.” He turns to the girl. “You come with me, okay? I’m gonna get you outta here.”

She takes his hand and they walk back to the fire exit. As they open the door, she turns and looks back at me. “Thank you,” she says, quietly.

I smile and nod; unsure what else I can say to her. They head back up the stairs and out into the storm. Josh and I press ourselves against the wall and make our way around the dogleg, likely walking into a storm of our own. Except right now, I’m the thunder, the lightning, the wind and the rain… I’m a walking tornado of devastation, and God help all those who don’t run.

“Stay behind me,” I say to Josh as I crunch the shotgun.

I step around and come to a small lobby with two elevators on the right. Beyond that is a large double door made from expensive wood, with the left hand side open, revealing the room beyond.

The wall opposite the elevators has a large piece of art mounted on it, but from this angle, I can’t make out much more than the edge of the frame. Plus, I’m far too distracted by the ten heavily-armed men that are standing staring at me, like rabbits in the headlights, completely unprepared for my arrival. Either that or they knew I was coming but for some reason thought I’d take the elevator…

I level the shotgun, tucking the stock underneath my right arm and holding the barrel steady with my left. In the split second of confusion, I charge at them, firing off two rounds from the Mossberg. I aim just off-center of the group, to the left first, then the right. The spray of the shots hits them like two cones, causing maximum damage. The front row, consisting of four men, is taken out instantly, launching them backward into the rest of the group; blood pouring out of the gaping wounds in their chests and stomachs.

I let out a visceral scream as adrenaline surges through me. I know that in this reasonably narrow corridor, I have no cover, and all it’ll take is one bullet to put me down, and I can’t afford to start hesitating and thinking about what might happen here.

I chamber another round and fire, catching two more men who are unlucky enough to get to their feet first. I aim low, catching the one on the left just below the hip, right in the center of his thigh. The guy on the right had taken a step back, and the blast caught him on the knee, taking the bottom part of his leg clean off.

The four remaining men scramble to their feet and head for the sanctuary of the room behind them. But one man slips on the blood and as he loses his footing, I hear a three-round burst of gunfire from behind me. The bullets hit his sternum, killing him instantly. Josh appears next to me, his M-16 primed for another assault.

“Didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you, you crazy bastard?” he says.

The door slams shut in front of us as the three men make it inside. I’m not sure what good they think that door’s going to do, given they know I have a shotgun, and Josh has an assault rifle. They must be desperate and not thinking straight.

We take up position either side of the doorway.

“How many inside, do we know?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Didn’t get a chance to see,” I reply. “But it doesn’t matter. They’re all dead.”

He nods. “Got your back, Boss.”

“I’ll go low, you go high, yeah?”

He nods again and moves in front of the doors. I raise my boot and kick them both open with enough force to almost take them off their hinges. I step inside and drop to a crouch.

Oh, shit…

In front of me are the three men who survived the massacre in the hallway, standing in a line in front of a desk, facing me. The room spreads out to the left and right, and looks empty, apart from two leather sofas in front of the desk and some pieces of art dotted around. All around, the windows run floor to ceiling, displaying the impressive landscape of the city below, as well as the equally impressive storm that’s battering down on it.

On either side of the doors is one of the two men we’d seen in the street earlier. What were their names…? Duncan and Bennett, was it? They’re both tall and look even more physically impressive in person. They both have guns in their hands and they’re both aiming them at my head.

“Drop it, asshole,” says Duncan, on the right.

“Fuck…” I mutter.

I shouldn’t have been so reckless. The adrenaline was clouding my judgment, and not for the first time. I toss the shotgun to the floor. He reaches behind me, taking my Berettas and throwing them down as well.

“You too,” Bennett says, looking at Josh. “Nothing funny, or I blow his fucking brains out.”

Josh hesitates, not wanting to lower his weapon.

“Do as he says,” I say to him. “He has me dead to rights.”

He sighs heavily, unhappy that we’ve been caught before we can do anything and steps through, tossing his gun to the floor next to mine and raising his hands.

Duncan presses his gun to the side of my head. “Make a move and I’ll shoot you,” he says. “Now take a seat on the sofa.”

I take a deep breath, stand back up and walk forward. As I do, the line of three men in front of the desk step to one side revealing Jimmy Manhattan, who’s sitting in what, I presume, used to be Wilson Trent’s chair.

“Fuck…” hisses Josh, seeing Manhattan’s arrogant smile, already celebrating his victory over us. I can’t say anything, I just feel numb at having hit a roadblock I never expected to come up against.

“Adrian, glad you could join us,” he says. “Welcome to
my
empire.”

My jaw muscles clench as I stare at him, my anger rising to boiling point. “You sneaky, rat bastard sonofabitch!” I yell.

He smiles at me, full of arrogance. “Did you honestly think I’d write off our history, forgive and forget, then strike up a partnership with you? I’ll admit, your involvement has made things easier for me, but this outcome was inevitable. And now, I have all the manpower and the resources to finally bury Adrian Hell. How does it feel? Being so beaten?”

“Actually,” interrupts Josh. “You
don’t
have the resources. I stole all of Trent’s money, so you’re in charge of a building you can’t afford the rent for, and a small gang of inbred steroid abusers who you can’t afford to pay. Well done!”

Manhattan nods to Bennett, who steps over to Josh and slams his pistol into the side of his head, right on the temple. Josh grunts as he falls to the floor, not quite unconscious but incapacitated for the time being.

“A minor technicality,” says Manhattan, without skipping a beat. “Which
you
will resolve for me. Hand over the money.”

I shake my head. “Couldn’t if I wanted to. Didn’t understand half the shit he said to me when he told me how he’d done it, but I know the only way to trace the money is with him in front of a computer. Given you just knocked him out, you’ll have to wait…”

“Defiant to the very—”

“I haven’t finished,” I interrupt, “I was just pausing for breath… Like I was saying, I couldn’t if I wanted to… but I
don’t
want to. What I want to do is kill everyone in this room. And you’re going last, so you can watch what I do to everyone else.”

I look at Duncan, who, to his credit, remains next to me with his gun still on my temple.