Authors: Ty Patterson
The Warrior Code (27 page)
Roger picked him up effortlessly in a fireman’s lift and started the slow climb back up.
Halfway through, Zeb reached down and they got the gangster up.
Zeb stood for a minute to let the air flow through him, re-energizing him, and nodded at the question in Roger’s eyes.
I’m okay.
In the distance they heard sporadic firing. Garcia’s men were on top.
‘Got him,’ Zeb whispered and heard Broker’s shout of delight in his ear.
Garcia smiled broadly when he joined them. ‘We’ve done it,
mis amigos
. It was a clean operation. Some minor injuries for us, five of them dead, the rest are captured.’
He strolled across to Zubia, who was slumped against a tire of his getaway vehicle. The gangster reeked of sweat, fear and hate and spat at Garcia.
‘You think you’ve got me? I’ll be out in less than a week. I own this city.’ He sneered at the SEMAR man.
Zeb spoke for the first time. ‘Who said you’ll be tried here?’
Zubia’s eyes widened at the American accent.
Two months later.
Zeb stretched his legs, folded his arms, and leaned back against the couch. He was in his favorite bar in the East Village in New York City, a barely started drink in front of him.
They had brought Zubia to the U.S. to stand trial for numerous charges. One of them was for masterminding the kidnapping of the twins, another was for aiding and abetting the killing of an undercover FBI agent. The media on both sides of the border had lauded the gangster’s arrest and extradition, and even after two months the news flow hadn’t stopped.
SEMAR received all the credit for the takedown. There was no mention of any American participation.
Zeb started his punishing fitness regimen the day after he reached home, an apartment on Seventy-Seventh Street, and now his ribs felt as good as new.
He glanced at the newspaper in front of him, yet another article of the arrest on its inside pages. He stopped reading after the second line of hyperbole and glanced at his watch.
Not like Roger and Broker to be late.
He started a hand toward his phone but stopped when a shadow fell across him and Roger came into view.
‘This delayed me,’ he said dramatically and held up a wine bottle in its case.
A hand reached out and took the case from his hand.
Broker.
The older man inspected the case, opened it, removed the bottle, and held it against the light. He wrapped it back up again and handed the case to Zeb reverentially.
‘I’d heard about this, never tried it.’
Broker and Roger were the wine enthusiasts in their group, and there was an air of worship about them as they handled the bottle.
Zeb inspected the case.
Chasselas del Mogor, it read, from the Mogor Badan vineyard in Baja California, Mexico.
He looked at the two of them, and they nodded.
‘One of the finest Mexican wines.’
He looked at the card attached to the case.
It bore Garcia’s name and a handwritten inscription.
The Balcones was good. This is better.
Mi vida es tuyo.
My life is yours.
‘I wouldn’t say it’s better, but maybe just as good,’ Roger admitted grudgingly. Nothing was better than the Balcones to the Texan.
‘What took you so long?’ he asked Broker.
Broker made himself comfortable. ‘I was held up because two people were pestering security at my building. They wanted to meet me, but I wasn’t taking their calls. They refused to say who they were.’
He helped himself to an olive as he built the story. ‘Being the good citizen I am, I went down.’
‘If he hadn’t, we would have found a way to go to his apartment.’
Zeb snapped around.
Those voices
.
Beth and Meghan Petersen smiled back at him.
He stared in amazement, and when his eyes flew to Broker and Roger, they were grinning.
Roger held his hand up in apology. ‘Yeah, I knew about their arrival, but the ladies wanted to surprise you.’
The twins glowed with health, and their burnished hair and green eyes attracted many male eyes. They had a leaner build, and the muscle tone in their arms was apparent.
‘So what brings you here?’ Zeb asked them. ‘Business?’
‘Sorta,’ Beth began and stopped when her eyes took in the newspaper article and the bottle standing on it. Garcia’s card was facing them.
She grabbed the bottle, read the card, passed it to her sister. Meghan traced the card with her fingers.
Her green eyes were wide with understanding when she turned them back at Zeb.
‘We know what you were trying to do.’ Beth waved her hand over the bottle and the paper. ‘Not this, obviously. We just came to know of this.’
Meghan cut in impatiently. ‘What she’s trying to say, we know why you guys stopped taking our calls. You wanted us to get back to our lives, the less contact with us, the better. All that psychiatry shit.’
Their eyes bored into Zeb’s with an intensity in them he’d not seen often.
‘Well, that’s not happening, buddy. We are as much a part of your life just as you are part of ours.’
Zeb shook his head in bemusement. ‘Where’s this going?’
Broker had a satisfied smile on his face. ‘You know Tony and Eric?’
Zeb nodded. Tony and Eric were Broker’s numbers two and three. They ran the logistics for all their missions, arranged for safe houses, anonymous cars, weapons and occasionally provided backup.
‘Tony’s getting married. His fiancée’s a florist, and he plans to help her. Eric is migrating to Canada. Don’t ask me why!’
His smile grew wider as he saw the dawning light in Zeb’s eyes.
‘Yeah, Zeb. You got it. Meet the new Tony and Eric. Beth Petersen and Meghan Petersen.’
Zeb sat back stunned as he processed it.
‘Have you–?’
Beth forestalled him. ‘Yeah, we’ve thought this through. It wasn’t something that came to us just this morning. We spoke to Broker and Roger several times about this; we met Clare. Oh yeah’ – she grinned at Zeb’s expression – ‘we flew to D.C. and met her. We know the risks. Jeez, if there’s anyone who knows the risks of working with you guys, it’s us. So let’s cut out the buts, shall we?’
Meghan chimed in with a devilish smile. ‘We aren’t asking you, Zeb. We’re telling you. We’re on your team now. Accept it.’
Zeb gazed at them, and his mind flashed back to the first morning he had seen them together. Yellowstone National Park. He recollected how Meghan had gotten the drop on him.
Roger brought out his best Texan drawl. ‘I have to take credit for this. I knew you ladies couldn’t resist me for long.’
Meghan rolled her eyes. ‘In your dreams, geezer. If anything, it was all the goodies Broker has. Those and the Lear.’
Beth’s eyes shone as she nodded vigorously. ‘The Lear. Totally.’
A warmth started deep in Zeb as he looked at the four of them.
Maybe this will work.
He didn’t know he was capable of it. He thought his muscles had atrophied. It came out from the same deep place from where the warmth began.
He grinned.
He had lost a family once. He’d found one again.
Check out The Warrior, Book One in the Warriors series
‘I have read many suspense, mystery and special ops and The Warrior is one of the best I have read.’ CaryLory, Amazon review
‘If you are a Jack Reacher fan then this book is for you.’ Tony, Amazon review.
‘If one needs an adrenaline rush then this book is absolutely IT!!!’ Ansuya, Amazon review.
‘I liked this book and would recommend it. As good as Baldacci.’ Andrew Bedford, Amazon review.
‘You’d better start early because you will be staying up way into the wee hours of the next morning.’ Jane, Amazon review.
‘Ty Patterson is now added to my favorites list.’ Ca-Cjs, Amazon review.
Check out The Reluctant Warrior, Book Two in the Warriors series
‘I just want people to read it and enjoy it as much as I have.’ Arthur Livingstone, Amazon review.
‘Anyone who likes books by Baldacci or Child will find themselves enthralled.’ Kathi D, Amazon review.
‘I dare you to try and put it down once you start it.’ Monty, Amazon review.
‘Another great read from Ty Patterson, another Lee Child in the making?’ David Hay, Amazon review
‘Patterson delivers stories and people I can relate to more than most writers in the genre.’ Amazon review
‘Loved it – can’t wait for next installment.’ Tanya Schipelbaum, Amazon review
Coming soon
The Warrior’s Debt
Warriors Series, Book 4
by
Ty Patterson
Chapter 1
Lester Benjamin didn’t know he was going to die in less than forty-eight hours.
Lester started his day early, like any other day. He rolled the shutters up on his convenience store on Myrtle Avenue, Brooklyn, at five in the morning, turned on its lights, and started his morning routine.
It was late October, leaf fall was well under way, and the tree in front of his store had covered the sidewalk with its foliage. He brought a broom out, swept the sidewalk clean, and nodded silently at the few joggers and dog walkers who were up that early.
He looked at the pavement critically for a moment and then turned inside the store and turned on all the lights and the heating. He allowed himself a moment of pride as he surveyed his store; neatly lined shelves offering everything that residents could conceivably want looked back at him with approval.
Lester went down the central aisle, pushed a side door open into the restroom, washed his hands and patted his hair down with his fingers. He was tall, an inch over six feet, and his ebony-colored face with a thick shock of silver hair filled the mirror.
He squelched the pride.
Hard work. That alone had brought him to where he was today.
Lester’s journey had started six decades back in a small village in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and whenever he felt the oncoming of self-pity, he reminded himself of where he had come from.
He owned the store and the one-bed apartment above it.
‘Thank you, Lord,’ he whispered and returned back to the counter.
At six, his two assistants, Joe and Emilio, strolled in. The two of them, in their late twenties, were just out of college and working in the store till their life took its next upward step. He high-fived the two of them, and they got the store ready for business.
The day went by soon enough for Lester. The convenience store was the only one in a few blocks and got steady traffic throughout the day. Many of his customers were regulars whom he knew by name, and he always greeted them warmly. It was only a convenience store, but it was
his
store, and he firmly believed that the personal touch made a difference to his customers.