Bab 281: Chapter 281: Dispatch Fighters ~ It’s Too Much
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Monroe was terrified.
She never expected such a situation. She had heard that the attackers were some of the biggest gangsters in the city. The gang boss had invited her to dinner, and it didn't bode well.
In Los Angeles, within Hardy's sphere of influence, she had felt shielded from such gang violence. Now, she realized just how dangerous these gangs could be. She had always been insecure, relying on others for protection. Now, her fear was palpable.
In a moment of panic, she thought of Hardy. Despite his flaws and the incident where he was drunk and touched her star, she had felt secure in his arms.
"Bang bang bang!"
Gunfire erupted as the bodyguards and members of the Haim Gang clashed. The actors in the conference room trembled with fear. A loud crash followed as bullets shattered the windows.
"Ah!"
Screams filled the room. The women hurried to the corners, away from the broken windows. Fear was mounting. Many actors began crying uncontrollably.
"Will those gangsters kill us?!" a girl sobbed.
Others looked pale with terror. The team leader tried to reassure them, "Don't worry. I've called the police, and we have bodyguards. The boss will definitely save us."
"But Los Angeles is so far from Houston. How can the boss save us?" someone asked, doubtful.
The leader himself wasn't entirely confident. After all, what could a few reinforcements do against hundreds of gangsters?
"DaDaDa!"
"Bang bang bang!"
The gunfire intensified, making everyone in the room scream again. The Haim Gang members were prevented from entering. Someone ran back to inform Cohenheim, who, upon learning of the situation, became enraged. If more people joined, he believed they could overpower the defenders.
Outside, the number of gangsters swelled to over a hundred, all armed. The pressure on the two bodyguards was immense.
"Flush!"
The gangsters prepared to charge. They planned to storm the hotel, arrest the occupants, and take whatever they wanted.
"DaDaDaDaDaDa!"
The bodyguards, realizing the attackers were no longer intimidated, fired their weapons in a desperate attempt to hold them back. A burst of gunfire felled three gangsters.
"Ah!"
The Haim Gang members, surprised by the lethal response, took cover behind cars. Two gangsters lay wounded, one dead.
The bodyguards knew that killing more people might eliminate any chance of negotiation. They could only hope for intervention from Hardy or the police. For now, they had to hold their ground.
The standoff continued. Cohenheim, infuriated by the news of casualties among his men, considered the situation a serious offense. As he prepared to leave, the phone rang.
"Who is it?" Cohenheim answered, his tone sharp.
"This is Pritz," came the voice of Patriarch Pritz.
Cohenheim was taken aback. The Mafia and himself had kept a wary distance, but he hadn't expected a call from Pritz.
"Why are you calling me?" Cohenheim asked.
"Are you trying to capture those Hollywood actors? I suggest you stop. You must know Jon Hardy's name. Those actors are from his company. The LA Gang is under his control. He's not someone to mess with," Pritz warned.
"I know of Jon Hardy. He rules Los Angeles, but this is Houston. This is my territory," Cohenheim retorted.
"If you touch Hardy's people, he will retaliate. You're no match for him," Pritz said.
Cohenheim was incensed. "What can he do? Send an army? His bodyguards have already killed some of my men. He'll have to negotiate."
"Do what you will," Pritz said before hanging up.
Pritz, smirking, was more interested in seeing the conflict escalate. The more Cohenheim provoked Hardy, the greater the chance for Pritz to seize territory. He knew Hardy's reputation and wanted to see how the situation would unfold.
Cohenheim, frustrated after hours of confrontation, decided to escalate. If his gang couldn't handle a couple of bodyguards, it would be a disgrace.
"Charge! One team suppresses with fire, the other moves in," Cohenheim ordered.
The gangsters prepared for a major assault. The bodyguards, low on ammunition, could only watch as the situation deteriorated.
Then, from the horizon came a roar.
"Buzzing~~!"
The sound of fighter jets caught everyone's attention. Gangsters looked up in disbelief.
"Buzzing~~!"
Two fighters, marked with 'HD' on their fuselages, flew into view. The P-51 Mustangs, equipped for long journeys, had been flown from the Los Angeles Club Airport. The pilots, experienced veterans, were on high alert.
The fighters dove toward the hotel. Just as the gangsters were stunned, the planes opened fire, their machine guns unleashing a torrent of bullets.
"Tutututututututututututututututututututu~!"
The bullets tore through the area, shredding vehicles and injuring gangsters. Panic ensued.
"My God!"
The gangsters, overwhelmed by the sudden attack, fled in terror.
The bodyguards, witnessing the fighters in action, were astonished. These planes belonged to Hardy's flight club, equipped to handle such crises.
Cohenheim, watching from a distance, was paralyzed with fear. The unexpected arrival of fighter planes had turned the situation upside down.
"Withdraw, quickly!" Cohenheim ordered his men.
Patriarch Pritz, observing the chaos from afar, was shaken. Sending fighters to deal with gangsters was beyond the pale.
"Too much!" Pritz thought, trembling as he watched the spectacle unfold.
Bab 282: Chapter 282: On the Yacht—Talk About Movies
Not only were gangsters like Cohenheim and Patriarch Pritz shocked, but even the bodyguards on the roof looked surprised. They never expected that these fighters would actually open fire.
Looking at the shattered corpses downstairs and the cars burning with heavy smoke, it resembled a battlefield. Despite the shock, the bodyguards felt a surge of excitement. Working for such a boss made their efforts seem worthwhile.
The performance group, hearing the roar of planes and cannons, lay on the ground in fright, believing they were caught in a war zone. Once the commotion calmed, the team leader dared to peek outside and saw that the gangsters had fled, leaving behind dead bodies and wrecked cars.
"What happened?" the team leader asked the bodyguard.
"It was a fighter jet. Our security company sent it over to drive the gangsters away," the bodyguard said with pride.
The group was stunned. A fighter jet? What kind of boss did they have?
The bodyguard explained, "We have more than just bodyguards. HD Security also has fighter jets, tanks, and even warships."
The crowd was astounded. It felt like being part of a military operation.
Monroe's eyes sparkled with tears of relief. Despite the chaos, she felt secure knowing that Mr. Hardy had protected her. Her confidence in him grew immensely.
The next day, Monroe performed again, but the events of the previous day left her uneasy. Despite her warm smile and charismatic performance, it was clear that the joy was superficial.
After the show, Monroe was approached by two bodyguards who informed her that someone wanted to see her. Despite her reservations, her trust in the bodyguards led her to follow.
The convoy took Monroe to a beach pier where a grand yacht awaited. The yacht, over fifty meters long with three floors, was luxurious and impressive. Monroe was escorted aboard and led to the opulent cabin filled with expensive amenities.
Monroe settled into the comfortable sofa, and while waiting, she spotted a script clip on the table. Curious, she began reading. The comedy script, full of chase scenes, disguises, and humorous dialogues, captivated her. She was drawn to the plot and felt it was perfect for her.
Just as she was engrossed in the script, Hardy entered the cabin. Monroe, startled, quickly set the script aside.
"Mr. Hardy," she greeted nervously.
Hardy smiled and reassured her, "It's okay. That script is for you."
Monroe was elated. The script was a surprise from Hardy, and she felt incredibly fortunate.
"You've read it?" Hardy asked as he poured wine for both of them.
"Yes, I've seen it while waiting," Monroe replied, her excitement evident.
"How do you feel about it?" Hardy inquired.
Monroe's face lit up with enthusiasm. "The script is fantastic. It's a perfect comedy and will definitely become a classic. I don't know who wrote it, but it's brilliant."
"I wrote it," Hardy said, handing her a wine glass.
Monroe took the glass, her admiration for Hardy growing. She marveled at how one man could be so talented and accomplished.
As the yacht started moving, Monroe asked, "Mr. Hardy, where are we going?"
"Why? Are you scared?" Hardy teased.
Monroe blushed, recalling the events from the previous night. "I'm with Mr. Hardy, so there's nothing to fear."
"Good. We're heading to Houston," Hardy said.
"To Houston?" Monroe was surprised. The place had left her with unpleasant memories.
"Yes, we need to resolve some issues there. The journey will be long, so I thought we could chat about the script," Hardy suggested.
"Sure!" Monroe agreed eagerly.
The yacht sailed towards Houston, and Monroe and Hardy delved into discussing the script, their conversation marking the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.
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