Read Online Deadly Alliance by Kathleen Rowland - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathleen Rowland
Ads: Link
offer?”
“His team verified Amy’s photos.” Only when pushed did the territorial sheriff accept help from outside.
“The Irish were the targets of this clusterfuck.” Finn bridled his impatience, but put in his two cents.
“That’s how I see it. Here’s how it played out.” McGill raised his eyebrows. “Rourke’s sons, Connor and Daniel, and a nephew, Thomas, carried Aidan out of the room at the main level. Left a trail of blood. Took an elevator to the helipad on the roof.”
Finn leaned forward. “Rourke money funded the Harp. They own the Sundowner Casino in Vegas. It’d be easy to set up an operating room.”
“Probably did. A drone substantiated their route.”
“And?”
“Bastards left a moment too soon.” In the next few minutes McGill delivered a mercifully short, canned speech about working with international partners. He was running for reelection.
“You’ve got my vote.”
“Thanks.”
McGill nodded. “As a ranger, you swapped in to disrupt groups like this.” The sheriff paused. “The Roaches ran into competition here.”
“Damn interesting.” Finn nodded. “Takbir taps a Mexican gang. Together they take over the Roaches to boost their finances.” He tossed his empty water bottle into a recycle basket.
McGill took a swig of cold coffee. “You asked earlier about cameras in the parking structure. Caught two suspects on tape.”
“Showing what?” Finn asked.
“Suspect one wore a patch on his sleeve. Guhleman says it’s Takbir’s sword insignia,” McGill said. “He sped off on foot.”
“He was after Amy, but she had a lead,” Finn said. “Anything else?”
“Suspect two carried her purse and a long bundle. He jumped into a blue SUV, picked up suspect one.”
“Amy mentioned a rifle and a sword.”
McGill drew his brows together and nodded.
“Any word on the SUV?”
“Abandoned on Highway 173 northbound. Reported stolen yesterday. Parked alongside a soccer field in Hesperia. Unlocked. Soccer mom was bringing pizza to an after-game party.”
“The hotel gang had a backup driver.” Finn spotted Guhleman in the doorway.
“Correct. Vehicle and destination are unknown.” Gary Guhleman angled his body forward like a bloodhound. His side-parted, salt-and-pepper hair heightened his expression of a tracker.
“Detecting?” McGill jokingly asked Guhleman. Any word derived from the word, detect, made its way into the sheriff’s conversation.
The agent smiled and held up his tablet. “Got my detector out.” He slid onto a leather chair next to Finn.
Finn was damned if he was going to ask questions.
“I’d like to discuss the eight robed men,” Guhleman said. “One was Arab. Only one.”
“Let me guess,” Finn said, “American ISIS recruits and Mexicans made up the rest.”
Guhleman said, “To be exact, three recruits and four Sureños.”
Sureños.
“You’re shitting me. All dressed like Arabs?” McGill slapped a hand on the table.
Guhleman turned to Finn. “Photos taken by your anonymous tipster were good. We’ve enlarged a tattoo.”
McGill said, “I’ll need a copy.”
Guhleman moved fast to punch in a command.
McGill tapped on his keyboard. “Got them.” He angled his monitor and then paged through each photo. “Check this guy out. He pulls off his robe, black mask, and turban. No beard.”
Finn rounded the foot of McGill’s desk and studied the assailant’s tatted back. “That’s not a parlor tattoo.”
“It’s from prison,” Guhleman said. “The Sureños’ tattoo has the letters, SUR, and under it, the number 13. The letter, M, is the thirteenth letter of the alphabet.”
“The M stands for the Mexican Mafia,” Finn said, knowing Sureños meant Southerners in Spanish. “They’re a Southern California gang.”
“Get this.” Guhleman barked a warning. “Mexico doesn’t control them.”
“Compared to the Sureños, ISIS is a gang on steroids. The allure is much the same.” Finn’s stomach
“His team verified Amy’s photos.” Only when pushed did the territorial sheriff accept help from outside.
“The Irish were the targets of this clusterfuck.” Finn bridled his impatience, but put in his two cents.
“That’s how I see it. Here’s how it played out.” McGill raised his eyebrows. “Rourke’s sons, Connor and Daniel, and a nephew, Thomas, carried Aidan out of the room at the main level. Left a trail of blood. Took an elevator to the helipad on the roof.”
Finn leaned forward. “Rourke money funded the Harp. They own the Sundowner Casino in Vegas. It’d be easy to set up an operating room.”
“Probably did. A drone substantiated their route.”
“And?”
“Bastards left a moment too soon.” In the next few minutes McGill delivered a mercifully short, canned speech about working with international partners. He was running for reelection.
“You’ve got my vote.”
“Thanks.”
McGill nodded. “As a ranger, you swapped in to disrupt groups like this.” The sheriff paused. “The Roaches ran into competition here.”
“Damn interesting.” Finn nodded. “Takbir taps a Mexican gang. Together they take over the Roaches to boost their finances.” He tossed his empty water bottle into a recycle basket.
McGill took a swig of cold coffee. “You asked earlier about cameras in the parking structure. Caught two suspects on tape.”
“Showing what?” Finn asked.
“Suspect one wore a patch on his sleeve. Guhleman says it’s Takbir’s sword insignia,” McGill said. “He sped off on foot.”
“He was after Amy, but she had a lead,” Finn said. “Anything else?”
“Suspect two carried her purse and a long bundle. He jumped into a blue SUV, picked up suspect one.”
“Amy mentioned a rifle and a sword.”
McGill drew his brows together and nodded.
“Any word on the SUV?”
“Abandoned on Highway 173 northbound. Reported stolen yesterday. Parked alongside a soccer field in Hesperia. Unlocked. Soccer mom was bringing pizza to an after-game party.”
“The hotel gang had a backup driver.” Finn spotted Guhleman in the doorway.
“Correct. Vehicle and destination are unknown.” Gary Guhleman angled his body forward like a bloodhound. His side-parted, salt-and-pepper hair heightened his expression of a tracker.
“Detecting?” McGill jokingly asked Guhleman. Any word derived from the word, detect, made its way into the sheriff’s conversation.
The agent smiled and held up his tablet. “Got my detector out.” He slid onto a leather chair next to Finn.
Finn was damned if he was going to ask questions.
“I’d like to discuss the eight robed men,” Guhleman said. “One was Arab. Only one.”
“Let me guess,” Finn said, “American ISIS recruits and Mexicans made up the rest.”
Guhleman said, “To be exact, three recruits and four Sureños.”
Sureños.
“You’re shitting me. All dressed like Arabs?” McGill slapped a hand on the table.
Guhleman turned to Finn. “Photos taken by your anonymous tipster were good. We’ve enlarged a tattoo.”
McGill said, “I’ll need a copy.”
Guhleman moved fast to punch in a command.
McGill tapped on his keyboard. “Got them.” He angled his monitor and then paged through each photo. “Check this guy out. He pulls off his robe, black mask, and turban. No beard.”
Finn rounded the foot of McGill’s desk and studied the assailant’s tatted back. “That’s not a parlor tattoo.”
“It’s from prison,” Guhleman said. “The Sureños’ tattoo has the letters, SUR, and under it, the number 13. The letter, M, is the thirteenth letter of the alphabet.”
“The M stands for the Mexican Mafia,” Finn said, knowing Sureños meant Southerners in Spanish. “They’re a Southern California gang.”
“Get this.” Guhleman barked a warning. “Mexico doesn’t control them.”
“Compared to the Sureños, ISIS is a gang on steroids. The allure is much the same.” Finn’s stomach
Similar Books
