Blood Line (A Tom Rollins Thriller Book 1) by Paul Heatley (book recommendations based on other books .txt) 📗

one of them was chasing the other. It was a backup, in case they caught up to Anthony.”

“They did catch up to him.”

Steve grits his teeth. “I know.”

“But so did the cops.”

“I’m sorry about the girl,” Steve says. His eyes glisten. “I didn’t know about her. Anthony never told me about her. I didn’t know she was … that they were going to …” He looks like he might be sick.

Tom keeps the knife to his throat, but he’s thinking. “Did you know Anthony was undercover?”

“No, but I wasn’t surprised. We had to spend a lot of time together. He was put with me, dealing. I could tell he wasn’t like the others. He was more like … well, like me. Except, unlike me, he didn’t have an older brother forcing him into this life. I couldn’t understand why he was doing it.”

“Who told the Right Arm about Anthony? Who told them he was undercover?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says, and Tom believes him. “They don’t tell me anything. Nothing important. They just leave me here, and for the most part they leave me alone.”

“Then how’d you know they’d found Anthony out?”

“Peter was here when he got the news. Sometimes he’d come by after work, he did that sometimes, just checking in. Not often, but it happened. That was just one of those nights. He was with me when he got the call. That hadn’t been the case, I wouldn’t have known. And … and I guess Anthony would be dead.”

“So you don’t know where the news came from? Not the slightest idea?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry.”

“What about the attack being planned? You know anything about that?”

“Attack? What are you talking about?”

“A domestic attack being planned by white supremacists. Target unclear, reasons unknown, but right now all arrows are pointing toward the Right Arm.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. “Jesus, what … what?”

“But you don’t know anything about that.”

“Like I said, they don’t tell me much. But it sounds way outside the ballpark of the Right Arm, they wouldn’t … I mean, I don’t think … it’s not something they would do.”

“They murdered a pregnant woman.”

Steve lowers his eyes at this. “I guess I thought it’s not something they would do.”

“If it’s not them, what about another cell, someone they know?”

“I mean, I guess, could be. They just leave me here, out of the way. They don’t involve me in anything higher up.”

Tom looks at him. He’s not much to see. Just a skinny boy, looks like he could still pass for a teenager, dragged along in a lifestyle he doesn’t want, all on his brother’s say-so. “Why did you warn Anthony? Why didn’t you just let your brother and the others take him out?”

Steve considers this, chews on his lip. No one knows what he did, so it’s clear no one’s asked him this already. He hasn’t had to think about it. “Because he was my friend,” Steve says. “And a part of me was relieved to know that it was like I suspected, that he wasn’t like the others. To know that I was right about him. I think that’s what I liked about him, why we got along. He could probably see the same in me. And, to be honest, selfishly, I wanted him to get away because that meant maybe the feds would come in, force the disbandment of the Right Arm, and that would be the end of it for me, at least for a while. Hopefully a long while.”

Tom needs to decide what to do with Steve. He has two options. Either kill him, or let him live.

Tom looks down at him, the knife still at his throat. His brother’s blood is on Tom’s hands. Some of it has gotten onto Steve’s face. Yet, he doesn’t seem too torn up about any of this.

His phone rings. It’s on the table next to his computer. It buzzes loudly.

“Answer it,” Tom says. “Put it on loudspeaker.” He takes the knife away, leans over, checks who is calling. It’s Ronald.

Steve picks up the phone.

“Be casual,” Tom says.

Steve nods. He answers, puts it on loudspeaker as Tom instructed. “Hey, Ron.”

Tom has to commend him, he sounds calm, like he hasn’t just had a knife at his neck, a threat upon his life.

“Steve, where are you?” Ronald does not sound calm. He sounds loud, worked up, frantic.

“I’m at home. I was about to get to bed.”

“Shit, man, shit …” It sounds like Ronald is doing something else, like he’s distracted, maybe driving.

“Ronnie, what’s up? Are you all right?” Steve looks up at Tom. He already knows the answer. He already knows what this call is about. The tone in Ronald’s voice makes it very clear.

“Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry – it’s your brother …”

Steve raises his voice a little. “What about him? Is he all right?”

“Oh, goddamn, shit, Steve … there’s been a fire at the bar. He’s … he’s dead, man. They’re all dead, all of them inside … Harry says they’re pulling out bodies, but he saw Peter. He could tell it was him …” Ronald sounds like he’s crying.

Steve puts a crack into his voice. “What? Ronnie, what are you saying? What’s happened? A fire?”

“A fire, yeah, but Harry’s been talking to one of our buddies on the force. He’s there; he says something else has happened. Says it looks like the other guys were shot before they caught fire, and it looks like Peter was stabbed. Something else has gone on here, man. There’s been an attack or somethin’. Something went down before the fire happened.”

“Shit …”

“Yeah, shit, exactly. Keep your head down, man. Be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too.”

“I’m sorry about your brother, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t respond.

“He was one of the best.”

“I need to … I’m gonna have to go, Ronnie.” Steve puts some more cracks in his voice. “I just need to, I mean, I can’t …”

“I understand, man. I’ll be in touch. I’m sorry, Steve. Call me if you need anything.”

Steve hangs up. He puts the phone back down.