Wrong Kill

WRONG KILL KILL CRIME 3 MIKE SLAVIN GOLDEN MEANS PRESS 2023 Copyright © 2023 by Mike Slavin All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum CONTENTS Day 1 Monday 1. Case in the Desert 2. Zorro and Rosa 3. Ford Ragsdale, DEA 4. Back to Vegas 5. Tony Testa 6. Meet Fiona Gunther Day 2 Tuesday 7. Case and Fiona Play Poker 8. Who Did It? 9. Spike’s Place 10. Joe’s Long Drive 11. Case Gets an Ace 12. Vegas to New Mexico 13. Case Arrives in Deming 14. Case Talks to the Sheriff 15. Trish, Bobby, and Fiona Back in Houston 16. Someone Could Die 17. Joe in Denver Day 3 Wednesday 18. Back at the Ranch 19. I Know Who Killed Your Son 20. Cassie in Boston 21. Panic Pushed Down 22. Detour 23. Let’s Visit Case 24. Quiet Landing 25. Ranch Visit 26. La Blanc’s House 27. Look Who’s Here 28. The Sheds 29. Joe’s Back 30. Pray for Help 31. Dropping In 32. It’s All About Timing 33. Little Help from a Friend 34. Batcave 35. Headache 36. Keep Looking 37. Holy Shit! 38. Who’s the Psycho? 39. Getting There 40. Waiting 41. Things Are Happening 42. Take the Glock 43. M60 44. On the Run 45. Old Man with a Hat 46. Pull Over Now 47. Call Me Gunner 48. In a Rush 49. Calling in Favors 50. Road Trip 51. Coming Together 52. Checking on Marcelle 53. A Late Deal 54. Attempted Cross Over 55. Ford Calls Case 56. Friends on the Porch Acknowledgments Thank You To The Readers Please Leave a Review Kill Crime Series Also by Mike Slavin About the Author DAY 1 MONDAY 1 CASE IN THE DESERT Nevada Desert Outside Vegas Monday, 7 p.m. “What are we going to do about Spike?” Joe asked. “Don’t know yet,” Jeff Case answered. He started rubbing the scar over his right eye. Then he glanced at Joe Shoemaker, in his early forties, still in pretty good shape with a scrub beard, and a little shorter than Case. Rugged bastard. “We can’t hold a serial killer forever, can we?” Joe asked as he kept his eye to the sniper scope. Case didn’t answer. He just stared at the point where he knew Zorro, a cartel boss, would be coming from. Everywhere you looked, it was Vegas desert. They had a high position to the north of the unimproved road leading to the area where the girls were being held. Zorro would be coming from a highway, out of range and out of sight to Case’s left, and drive into the kill zone. There would be no cover and nowhere to escape for Zorro and his men. “Let’s focus,” Case told Joe. “Here they come,” announced Case, mid-thirties and in great shape, to his team through his comms. The dust cloud in the distance became visible to him from the backslope of a crest, sixty-five miles into the Nevada desert. He didn’t lower the binoculars, though sweat from his forehead threatened to drip into his lens. He waited for the vehicles to come into view. “Just as promised… Three vehicles.” A light, hot wind flowed across his skin. It smelled like dirt and sage. He didn’t feel like a vigilante and was extremely uncomfortable taking justice into his own hands. Still, there he was, getting ready to exterminate another deserving scumbag. Maybe my last. “I got ‘em.” Joe adjusted his position lying beside Case, but kept his eye to the sniper scope. Case knew Joe was a bit of a wild card, but he also knew the veteran was fiercely loyal to him. He’d been an NCO on Case’s Green Beret team in Afghanistan, and Case had saved his life more than once. Case heard the rest of the team respond through his comms. “On the way,” Trish Teal said. He imagined that she had just pulled on her tan bush hat to hold her blond pixie cut in place. The team wasn’t wearing desert camo to be less conspicuous, but they were all covered with tan-colored clothing and boots to better blend in. “Me too,” the deeper voice of Bobby Mann followed. Case glanced over his shoulder down the backslope. About twenty yards away, he saw Trish and Bobby getting out of the Land Rover and moving up the slope with their own binoculars. He knew Trish was alert, but Bobby was likely reading a romance novel, his favorite pastime. Petite and in shape, Trish moved quickly. Bobby—with a few extra pounds and years—moved not so quickly. Case knew they wanted to watch the action. Trish crawled up on Case’s right side. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Let’s do what we have to do and get out of here. No extra chances. Agreed?” Trish asked. Case turned with a smile and gave her a short kiss. “Agreed. Now get your head down, you’re not in this fight.” Bobby, breathing hard, crawled up to the right of Trish. Case and Joe’s clothes were soaked through as sweat dripped off both their noses. Trish and Bobby were fresh, having come out of the a/c in the Land Rover. They were waiting for a man who dealt in human trafficking, drugs, and who knew what else, a man who liked to visit Vegas. Zorro also enjoyed seeing and sometimes trying the merchandise. It was a predictable habit that today would get him killed and save some young women from slavery and prostitution—and make the world a better place without him in it. They knew he’d have a bodyguard and an armed driver in his car, but the fifty-caliber sniper rifle could easily handle them all from a distance, even though they had explosive insurance. Joe’s first