Grab a copy of my Amazon bestselling novel, Gray Ghost!
Moments before dawn and half a mile offshore of the Caribbean
island of Andros, Sean heard something smash into the rear of the
speedboat and disintegrate the motors.
“Pres, get your gun ready. Someone wants the load.” Sean quickly
chambered a round in his AK-47. He brushed away shrapnel from
the fragmented engine case at his feet and scanned for the shooter, or
Since they’d operated without navigational equipment, or lights,
and used muffled motors, Sean believed his speedboat Gray Ghost
was nearly invisible. But, somebody on the island fired the shot.
“Preston!” Sean shouted. He briefly turned on his flashlight to see
why his brother hadn’t answered. The light fell on a long piece of
metal embedded in Preston’s forehead. His body still twitched, but
he was obviously dead.
Sean screamed as the gruesome sight registered in his brain and
instinctively tried to duck for cover just as another round decapitated
Gray Ghost sank to the ocean floor along with one-hundred million
dollars’ worth of cocaine, tucked away in her hull.
The sniper had painstakingly scoped out the area earlier, and
knew the two houses on the north end of the island were occupied.
Lights went on as the blasts rang through the night. This had not
been part of the plan. He knew there was no way to retrieve the boat at
night. His specialty was rifles, not underwater retrieval. Son-of-a-bitch.
The sniper realized he’d have to advise the man he knew simply as
‘the Caller.’ More importantly, the gunman needed to remain concealed
long enough to secure the speedboat.
* * * *
The Caller was already aware of his hired man’s mistake. His contingency
plan was already initiated. Retrieving the contents of the
speedboat, sunk or not, would happen. The hundred-million dollar
payday, and the Caller’s ability to walk away from the business for
good, depended on it.
Well, it’s finally time. The Cartel Enforcers, the highly anticipated follow up to my best-selling novel, Gray Ghost, is live and available in e-format and paperback! You can find it on amazon or Barnes and Noble, or order from me directly. And, for a little extra, i’ll sign it!
**If you haven’t heard, I’m donating proceeds from this novel to the Fakava Memorial Fund. Koti was my mentor and a good friend. He passed away leaving behind a wonderful wife and five amazing children. I wanted to do something to memorialize Koti and help his family a little, so this is my tribute to him and his family.
Two blacked-out SUVs converged on the well armored Mercedes being recklessly driven by Pedro Munguia. Unrelated vehicles careened off the highway as the pursuing SUV drivers patiently waited for Pedro to make a mistake. His mind raced as he frantically attempted to call his wife using the Bluetooth attached to his ear. However, fleeing from the bounty hunters he and his friends called the “Collectors” made it near impossible to drive and dial at the same time. Pedro couldn’t decide which was more important, retrieving his semi-automatic handgun, or calling for help. In a split second he decided his wife’s and daughter’s lives were more important to him than his own. He discarded his hand gun in the front passenger seat and kept repeatedly pressing the redial button to his home phone number. When he finally got through, the message told him the line was no longer in service.
“It’s too late!” Pedro screamed while swerving his vehicle.
Desperation sunk in. Pedro assumed the men chasing him had already had their way with his family based on the disconnected phone line at his home. Plus, the only way anyone would have figured out where he had been hiding was to beat it out of his family
before killing them. Now, once the killers pursuing him caught him, they would extract whatever they could from him through torture. Then, they would kill him too.
Pedro bellowed, “Raphael!” and tried to maintain control of his vehicle while dodging his pursuers.
Pedro cursed one man for all the dread falling upon him now; Raphael Sanchez. He believed Raphael set him up and now he owed more than $500,000 in cash to the largest Hispanic sleeper cartel operating almost undetected in the
United States. A family so well connected by being infused into the local infrastructure of San Diego, and having more financial resources than imaginable, Pedro was certainly doomed and had nowhere to run.
His life was falling apart in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He was just a small-time crook in the eyes of law enforcement and he had no idea that he was being used to track a much larger fish who’d recently been given up by Jim “Blood Hound” Calhoun. Calhoun had been snared in the largest narcotic seizure ever recorded in the Bahamas and had given up the Hispanic sleeper cartel responsible for the Tijuana-San Diego border in an effort to avoid a death sentence. When faced with certain death, most
criminals tend to drop the tough guy persona and throw any and everyone under the bus.
Pedro briefly relived the deal with Sanchez in his head, how he simply brokered a minor change in the original deal to add 50 kilos of cocaine to the order, added a few points to make his standard profit, and that was it. On the surface it was like the hundreds of deals the two had done over the last ten years.
It didn’t matter now. As a group of Collectors was hunting Pedro in the cars that chased him, one thing was certain; he would pay the monetary debt with his life. Ordinarily, Pedro would have tried to reason with the killers, but not this time. Pedro was mortified because he didn’t have enough money to buy the men off and there was no way they’d deal with him. Compounding the drama was the fact he had learned just prior to picking up the tailing killers that he had been labeled as an informant for the police. Pedro was arrested during a recent drug bust at the Tijuana border as the load he brokered was headed into San Diego. He was released just seven days after being caught with 100 kilos of cocaine. People began to talk and
speculate how he got out so quickly. Before too long, he was labeled as a snitch. All of these thoughts caused Pedro’s mind to spin out of control.
The SUVs easily closed in on Pedro as the traffic began to get congested. Pedro hoped he could make it to the safe house in Temecula, CA. He drove in a zigzag fashion and made it appear as though he was passing the next off ramp and at the last second, he stepped on the accelerator and veered hard to the right. One of the SUVs made the same aggressive maneuver and clipped the back of a large pick-up truck. The pick-up truck tumbled over and over until it landed halfway on the concrete barrier separating eight lanes of rush hour traffic. Dust and debris covered the freeway as multiple accidents began to occur.
Both Pedro’s vehicle and one of the SUV’s wobbled and swerved as they tried to keep their wheels on the asphalt. The driver of the first SUV over corrected his steering just slightly and the tires grabbed asphalt causing the SUV to flip violently down the freeway. One of the would-be killers was ejected from the second SUV bore down on Pedro and he felt a sudden tightness in his chest.
Pedro quickly abandoned the notion of making a final run toward the safe house for two reasons. He didn’t want to give up the location of the safe house tumbling vehicle. Pedro looked up into
his rear view mirror and could see the massive wreck the SUV and pickup truck created, but did not have a moment to be relieved as he saw the final SUV maneuver in time to miss the wrecks and catch the off ramp he himself had barely managed to take. In case he somehow survived this ordeal, and he knew he did not have enough weapons at the house or the training to fend off a SUV full of Collectors.
Pedro’s vehicle and the trailing SUV crashed through poles and blew through intersections with no regard for the citizens around them. Pedro looked to his left and noticed
marked police units converging on his location. Pedro had always despised law enforcement but he thought being captured by the police now would be the only way he would survive. For awhile, he mused. It was not a comforting feeling because once the cartel members figured out another way to get at Pedro, which they always did, he was dead.
The driver of the SUV seemed to anticipate what Pedro was thinking because it lurched forward as the driver mashed the accelerator in an effort to get to one side of Pedro’s vehicle. Pedro sped past a bus depot as buses slowly rolled out of the massive lot right in front of him. Pedro was dodging between pedestrians and
buses trying everything he could to lose the looming SUV.
Two buses collided making it impossible for Pedro to go forward. He frantically looked for a way out. Suddenly in his peripheral vision he noticed the SUV was clearing the rear bumper of his car. Pedro tried to move away but the driver of the SUV pushed the right rear quarter panel of his Mercedes causing Pedro’s vehicle to crash into a telephone pole. Glass and twisted metal flew everywhere. Pedro was stuck in the front seat of the car pinned firmly by the air bag and seat belt.
Through a trickle of blood Pedro could see the two marked police cars closing in on him and he felt some small sense of relief. Moments before they arrived, Pedro watched as the SUV carrying Collectors got in between him and the two police cars. The police officers observed the SUV’s aggressive move and slammed on their brakes.
They radioed for back up and positioned themselves to use the front of their cars as cover. No one had time to think.
Gun fire erupted as two men dressed in black BDU’s (battle dress uniforms) slowly exited the SUV with AR-15 assault rifles and opened fire on the two police officers.
High velocity rounds shredded the front of the patrol cars but could not penetrate the engine block giving both officers time to shoot back and look for cover. Both officers had previous combat experience in Iraq, but were still caught off guard by the level of skill possessed by the urban guerillas firing on them now. The men from the SUV continued shooting at the officers until they ran out of bullets from their first magazines. In unison the men released the magazines, flipped them around, and slammed them back in the rifle. The officers were out matched. As they frantically tried to unlock their patrol rifles, a frightening reality set in. Both cars were without power now causing the locking mechanism holding the rifles to stay locked.
One of the officers got hit in the leg from a ricocheted round and yelled to his partner for help.
The second officer saw his partner go down to the pavement. His urge to help his fallen comrade compelled him to leave his position of cover in an attempt to help pull his friend out of the line of fire. At the same time the two shooters snickered and while the moving officer attempted to use suppression fire to fend off the shooters, they shot him several times. Despite his severe injuries, the
officer, spiked with adrenaline, was able to return fire long enough to get he and his partner behind the patrol car. After doing so, the officer collapsed and lay motionless.
Once the two officers appeared no longer to be threats to the mission, a third man, the driver of the SUV, exited the vehicle. Together, all three men began jogging directly toward Pedro.
Pedro frantically searched for his firearm and began praying. He violently pulled at the seat belt as he pierced the air bag with a small pocket knife. Out of nowhere Pedro heard small caliber rounds and could see them hitting the SUV and the ground near the advancing Collectors. One of
the three Collectors doubled over and Pedro could see blood spewing from the area near the man’s neck. The man toppled over and fell dead to the ground.
The remaining two Collectors began returning rounds in the general direction of where they thought the rounds were coming from and ran back toward the SUV to use it as cover. At the same
time, Pedro was freeing himself and had located his firearm. Pedro was very good with a gun. He began squeezing off well placed rounds toward the two remaining Collectors in an effort to confuse them and he hoped to keep them at bay.
Sirens and the melodic sound of helicopter blades spinning through the air were getting louder which meant they were getting closer to Pedro. One of the Collectors began shooting toward Pedro’s location while the other one shot at an unknown target to Pedro’s left. Almost immediately he felt intense burning pain in his arm. Pedro ripped his shirt to wrap around the wound in an effort to control the bleeding. However, he was still losing a lot of blood and was feeling faint. He tried to get up and realized his leg was broken from the crash. The pain caused him to see white spots and yell loudly. Desperation filled his mind as he realized the small caliber fire had ended and both Collectors were now filling his Mercedes with high-powered bullets.
So much for negotiating, he thought. Whoever hired the gunmen meant to collect his debt with blood. He could see the Collectors were communicating to each other with hand signals. Each one took turns cautiously poking their head around the front of the SUV to see Pedro’s location better. After the third time, Pedro heard two loud booms from what he thought was a high powered rifle. Instantly he saw both Collectors bodies fly violently backwards as their upper torsos exploded from the impact of large caliber
Moments after Pedro saw this, he felt a firm grip on his shoulder and he quickly swung around with his firearm in his good arm. He saw the man had a gun in his hand and a police officer shield hanging from a necklace around his neck. The man appeared to be screaming at him but he couldn’t hear a thing as a result of the deafening nearby gunfire. With the disabling ringing in his ears and confusion, Pedro slowly began fading away.
The man continued to yell at Pedro while easily disarming him with a quick shot to his wrist causing the firearm to drop from his grip.
The man quickly disabled the weapon and threw it into the middle of the street. Pedro was in tremendous pain and truly had no idea what the hell had just happened.
He faintly heard the man yell, “Off duty officer!” He calmed down as he realized the man was there to help him, not kill him.
In the distance, police cars were driving all over and sirens dominated the scene. Pedro was slowly getting his hearing back as he thought about his wife and child. He wondered if he would survive his bullet wound and leg injury.
He grabbed the elbow of the man who had helped him and asked, “Who are you?”
The man chuckled and replied, “My name is Bill Dix and you just cost my partner and I another damn vacation!”
Pedro whispered, “Thanks Bill Dix,” and lost consciousness.
I’m donating proceeds from this novel, like I do for all my novels, to two new groups: Officer Down Memorial Fund and Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. It’s what I do. Thank you everyone for your support.
Fifty “boats” (1000 count each) of previously seized ecstasy lie neatly stacked across a recycled black jack table in downtown Las Vegas. Next to them, a Colt .45, and a brief case containing $250,000.00 in US currency. Department of Justice Special Agent Michael Andrews, working undercover as a major narcotic trafficker for the last two years, sat nervously at the table tapping his fingers on the dingy worn felt. He’d been impressed that he was able to get so much money to flash, but it came with a cost. The bosses made him handcuff the money to his wrist. Andrews considered it to be a problem because if someone came to take the money, they’d have to kill him or cut the briefcase off, or worse, kidnap him. He chuckled and shook his head recalling the foolish things he’d done in his career while working undercover. He regained focus as he was just about to meet a potential new source of the most sought after narcotics on the streets, pharmaceutical pills.
Andrews looked around the small secluded section he was in of the Fremont Hotel. The area was unknown to the public, was relatively secure, and had been used by Andrews and other criminals for seedy deals for the last three years. He outwardly wore his game face, but he’d done enough undercover deals to know to expect the unexpected. He replayed in his mind several previous narcotics transactions with people supposedly working for the main man. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was making him feel uncomfortable. He racked his brain trying to figure out what it was.
The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up when he realized the problem. He didn’t have time to abort the mission because it was already too late. He spun around to see two massive men running toward him at full speed. Dammit, it’s a rip off! He lunged for the Colt .45 with his left
hand while trying to dodge the two men barreling toward him. Instinctively he tried to depress his panic button, but couldn’t get to it.
He felt it before he heard it, a single gunshot that caught him right in the chest. The two men were on top of him pummeling him while trying to get the briefcase un-handcuffed from his wrist. The last thing he remembered was hearing a thick Canadian accent from one of the attackers before he was knocked out by a blunt object.
One of the two attackers left, and within seconds, he returned with bolt cutters. He cut the briefcase from Andrews’ wrist, and they calmly walked away. The undercover protection team, positioned just around the corner, had no idea what just happened to Special Agent
Andrews. He rolled over his arms as he regained consciousness, which activated the emergency signal. He managed to look up when he heard the door bust open. He assumed the attackers were coming back to finish him off. Why didn’t they kill me? His analytical mind was puzzled. Then he calculated they had at least a two minute head start from the rescue team.
When Andrews could see it was the UC rescue team coming through the door, he chuckled. Well, there’s not much better for undercover credibility than getting shot at, he thought, I hope the bad guys didn’t see the cavalry coming. Thoughts of his pregnant wife helped him control his breathing and remain calm. He wanted nothing more in life than to tell her again how much he loved her. He decided he would survive this, and, when he was physically able, he’d hunt down the person who set him up and kill them regardless if he was wearing a badge or not.
*FINAL NOVEL IN THE BILL DIX SERIES*
In the fourth and final novel in the best selling crime fiction series, all of the chaos Bill Dix and Steve Peterson have endured for several years will come full circle. While away at a Narcotics convention in San Francisco, tragedy strikes setting Bill Dix into a terrible tailspin that no one, not even his best friend Steve Peterson or his wife, can pull him out of. Everything Bill has lived his life for is challenged and comes down to one last difficult decision. Does he make the right call? In this game, no matter what he does, everything will end.