Cold Blooded Assassin Book 6: Red Horizon (Nick McCarty Assassin) by Bernard Lee DeLeo

in between to see what held their attention.
    The kids watched as Nick scooped Rachel from the beach chair with Quinn in her arms, and physically put her in a position next to the rock wall where she could not be seen from the road. Jean sighted in the Camaro with the range finders as it neared the spot opposite where Nick had placed Rachel and Quinn. It brought the occupants into crystal clear clarity. She tapped her com unit as Nick retrieved their beach bag, taking it with him to the wall near Rachel.
    “They have those funny looking machine gun things, Dad!”
    “On it. Thanks, Kid. Stay down.”
    “Understood.” She looked over to see Sonny had his knife in hand, ready to streak down the path toward the beach. Jean put her hand over his. “Don’t, Sonny. We would only die rushing down there. If bad things happen, we have to stay alive… to get the guys who did it.”
    “Jesus, Viper… do you think those guys can get your Dad.”
    Jean smiled, watching Nick move along the rock wall away from Rachel and Quinn. “They don’t have a prayer.”
    * * *
    Nick’s chair tipped over after talking with Jean for only a moment. In the next few seconds Rachel was in his arms, with Quinn held tightly at her chest, and then against the stone wall bordering Otter’s Point. “Is Jean okay?”
    “She’s fine. Stay here, Rach. Don’t move.” Nick handed her the Glock 9mm handgun from the bag he hurried over to retrieve. “You know the drill. Stay still until you have a target. Call the cavalry.”
    “On it.” Rachel shifted Quinn for access to her iPhone while staying in control of the Glock.
    Nick moved below the wall to a spot twenty feet beyond Rachel, nearly to the rocky outcropping on the left of the beach, acknowledging Jean’s weapons warning. He waited, visualizing Ocean View Blvd. Nick calculated the angle he needed to adjust when he made his move to fire. The curb along Ocean View, near Otter’s Point’s rock wall, poked inches up from the dirt, separating the curb and wall. Nick closed his eyes while readying his .45 caliber Colt. Hearing the Camaro’s deeper throated exhaust throttle down to idle, Nick twisted upwards from his position, instantly acquiring targets.
    The first hollow point .45 slug smashed into the first hoodie’s head, hanging over the passenger side front door frame, splattering blood and brain matter as it exited. The second went through the rear seat passenger’s head. When the cringing driver, who had dived down on the seat straightened to punch the gas pedal for a hasty escape, Nick was standing next to the Camaro on the driver’s side. Nick pistol whipped the driver and reached in to shut off the engine, but kept the ignition in the run position. He hit the switch for the convertible roof, closing it.
    “Everything’s fine, Rach,” Nick called out. He smiled when a hand waved over the stone wall.
    “Cleaner’s coming down the street with Payaso and Kabong, Dad.”
    “Good! You and Sonny can join your Mom and Quinn. Pack up. We have to get away from here. Keep your eyes open for anyone jogging or stepping out of the surrounding houses.”
    “Understood.”
    Nick opened the driver’s door. He shoved the unconscious driver over the gearshift into the lap of the dead passenger, continuing to force the man down into the space between the seat and dash. By then Gus stood at the passenger door, yanking the still alive driver’s hands behind his back. Johnny handed him a plastic lock restraint which Gus used on the driver. Johnny handed Gus a syringe to make sure the driver didn’t wake until they needed him to.
    “Give me a hot shot too, Johnny. I’m going to try and question the driver on the way. If I get lucky, we’ll fix him for a quick deposit with the rest.”
    “So much for nice mornings,” Gus said, giving the driver only a partial shot. “Johnny and I will take Rachel and the kids home. We’ll join you right after we tuck the family into the safe-room. You can