You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

"Waaaaah—waaaah—"

Just as Lyon was frowning and preparing to go deeper into the laundromat, a sharp siren suddenly came from the main road outside the alley.

The sound grew louder as it approached, and at least two patrol cars were speeding closer.

It was clearly the gunshots that had just rang out in the laundromat that alarmed the nearby residents suffering from nervous breakdowns, or perhaps some unlucky passerby dialed 911.

Lyon raised an eyebrow slightly as he heard the approaching sirens.

He immediately abandoned his plan to continue searching the laundromat for clues about the possible top assassin.

Lyon is now the head of the Anti-Crime Task Force (ACU), and just half an hour ago, he received supreme on-site command authority over all patrol officers in the West Precinct from Chief Sterling.

If he were standing in the middle of this pile of rotting flesh, waiting for the local police officers who would arrive in their patrol cars to break down the door.

Following the Seattle Police Department's nauseatingly cumbersome bureaucratic procedures, as the first officer to arrive at the scene, even if he was just passing by, he had to cooperate with the homicide detectives to complete a preliminary scene investigation report that was dozens of pages long.

This mess, which is a complete waste of time and offers no real benefit, should be left to the patrol officers who are being driven to frantically meet their KPIs by Sterling today.

"Let whoever wants to write the report write it."

Lyon cursed inwardly and turned away without looking back.

He stepped over the broken glass shards mixed with rainwater and blood, retraced his steps, and walked straight out of the damaged roller shutter door of the laundromat.

In less than ten seconds, his figure disappeared into the dim night at the alley entrance, leaving the bloody mess to the patrol officers who were about to arrive at the scene.

at the same time.

Eva, who had been pressed tightly against the back door of the laundromat, in the shadow of the rusty trash can, also heard the increasingly piercing siren.

Her grey-blue eyes were fixed on the direction of the alley entrance, and she caught the sound of the handsome man's footsteps quickly disappearing into the distance.

"Gone?"

Eva quickly checked the other person's movements in her mind.

She assumed that the top cleaner had chosen to retreat because he was afraid of the police's arrival and didn't want to have a direct confrontation with the cops on the streets of Seattle.

She finally relaxed a little after the footsteps completely disappeared into the rain.

The wound on my waist, which had just been stitched up, started to bleed again due to the intense exercise and muscle tension, and a trickle of warm blood slid down the lining of my windproof jacket.

She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath of the cold air, which smelled of rust.

Eva also did not want to have any contact with Seattle's official law enforcement agencies at this time, in a seriously injured state.

If she were to be stopped by the police at the crime scene, even if it were just a simple identity verification at the police station, her forged documents would be exposed immediately.

Eva put the Glock 19 pistol back into the tactical holster on her waist.

She glanced up at the night sky above the alley, blurred by the rain, then pulled down the hood of her windbreaker and instantly disappeared into the other side of the intricate, dark alley, where even the streetlights couldn't reach.

……

The next day, night fell once again over Seattle.

On Block 8, the neon sign outside the Pink Swan strip club flickers with an ambiguous pink glow.

Tonight, the club announced its closure. The dance floor and booths on the first floor were cleared out, leaving only a few bartenders wiping glasses behind the bar.

The atmosphere in the VIP room on the second floor was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

Darrell stood in front of the huge one-way window, looking down at the empty street below, his face with a long scar hidden in the shadows.

"How's the mess over with Tyron going?" Darrell turned around and looked at Jimmy and Fat Mike sitting on the leather sofa.

"Don't even mention it."

Jimmy exhaled a puff of smoke from a woman's cigarette, his face grim.

"Those cops not only arrested Tyrone, but they also ransacked his underground parking garage. His elite gunmen have all scattered and are completely out of contact."

Fat Mike's massive body sank into the sofa, the gold chain around his neck bobbing up and down with his heavy breathing.

"I transferred twenty of the casino's bouncers to take the blame."

Fat Mike complained in a muffled voice.

"But these idiots have barely fired a gun. If it really comes down to a fight, I'm afraid they'll wet their pants. Today's main force still needs to be your men, Darrell."

Darrell gritted his teeth, walked to the table, and slammed his finger heavily on the surface.

"We have to keep going even if we're short-handed! Tonight's plan can't be changed."

Darrell's voice carried a hint of ruthlessness.

"Once that little bastard Lamar brings his men up, as soon as he sits down, we'll take action and shoot him to death."

Trey sat on a single sofa in the corner of the private room, holding a glass of untouched bourbon whiskey.

He was wearing an ill-fitting black suit, which Darrell had someone find for him at the last minute, saying it was to make him look like a "surviving boss."

But Trey now only sees the suit as a shroud.

Darrell walked up to Trey and patted him on the shoulder with such force that Trey almost spilled his drink.

"Listen, Trey. When Lamar comes in, you'll sit in the head seat."

Darrell pointed to the large, genuine leather boss's chair.

"You need to pretend that Boss Marcus is still alive, but too badly injured to show his face. You will represent him and negotiate with Lamar and the other leaders."

Trey swallowed hard, forced a smile that looked more like a grimace, and nodded.

But in his mind, he was already cursing wildly.

Maria is so smelly