North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

On the road to the airport.

Dean received a call from FBI Agent Ruth.

This woman, as if she'd taken the wrong medicine, had abruptly dropped her previous caution and said curtly, "Detective Dean, we've received information that you went to Mike Smith's home! This case has already been taken over by us. You are ruining your own future!"

Dean's brow furrowed slightly. Ruth's about-face was quite odd.

After some thought, he ventured, "Agent Ruth, you're forgetting something. I am also a special consultant for the FBI. Getting involved in this case isn't against the rules. Besides, isn't it more comfortable for you to just lie back and take the credit? Why the need to..."

"Shut up!" Ruth said coldly. "Dean, this is a direct order from the division chief. Since you are also a special consultant for the FBI, you should adhere all the more to the rules of the game. Or do you think that just because you've latched onto Saul Aston's coattails, you can act recklessly?"

Hearing this, Dean suddenly understood.

He got it. Mike Smith was the psychological counselor for the youngest son of the head of the Ashton Family. It was likely that the Ashton Family head's youngest son, fearing that Mike Smith's case might implicate him, had the Los Angeles division of the FBI take over the matter. He and Monet were Saul Aston's men. And although Saul Aston was indeed a member of the Ashton Family, he might not be in complete agreement with the head of the family's youngest son. That must be why Ruth, a minor player in all this, had abandoned the idea of effortlessly taking credit and was now trying to stop him from further investigating the case. Too bad for her, he wasn't just a special consultant for the FBI, but also for the NSA! He had long prepared a contingency plan. If Ruth, oblivious to the danger, continued to interfere, he would show her what 'shut up' truly meant!

Ending the call, Dean ignored the sharp pain from his injuries and sped up.

「At the airport.」

Dean waited for about half an hour.

A familiar figure, accompanied by more than a dozen burly men, walked toward Dean.

Dean went up to greet him, spreading his arms for a warm embrace, "Welcome to Los Angeles, Dick!"

Indeed, the visitor was Dick Lucius, Dean's cousin, and the sole heir to the New York Lucchese Family.

He had Amon help the Lucchese Family resolve some trouble.

Now it was time for them to repay the favor!

Dick was about to share his recent good news when his nose twitched, and he asked with concern, "Cousin Dean, are you injured?"

"It's a minor thing. Let's go, we've got a lot to do today!"

Dick had brought fifteen of the family's best men.

With so many people, they naturally couldn't all fit in Dean's beat-up car. So, they 'rented' several taxis by shelling out cash. Under Dean's lead, they set off in a large contingent towards a certain rural town in Los Angeles.

His actions were not subtle.

FBI Agent Ruth quickly received intelligence about Dean's movements.

"Damn it!" Ruth swore in frustration as she slammed down the phone, yelling at Cheston En, who was playing it cool and indifferent beside her, "Get up! That bastard Dean has definitely found the Pain Source organization's hideout. I'm going after him. You coordinate with the local bureau and get people over here to assist, quick!"

Having said that, she left in a hurry.

Cheston En watched with pity the retreating figure of the woman, her head turned by her superior's grand promises.

He had a feeling that this would be the last time he saw Ruth alive. That fellow Dean wasn't one to play by the rules. But none of that was his concern.

Cheston En picked up the phone and politely requested assistance from some patrol officers from the nearest bureau. Then, he leisurely waited at the intersection for the officers to arrive.

After his probationary period ended, he earned just over three thousand US dollars a month before taxes. This level of effort was perfectly in line with his salary.

「Los Town.」

It was a rural town nearly erased from the map of Los Angeles. In its heyday, it had over a hundred households.

But by 2001, only a few elderly people still lived there.

They were self-sufficient, living almost entirely at peace with the world.

That afternoon, the arrival of four or five taxis and a shabby second-hand car shattered the town's tranquility.

Dean got out of his car and instructed Dick's men to surround several hidden tunnels near the town's church.

Dick, having been briefed on the way about their purpose, asked excitedly, "Cousin, are we going in now?"

Dean shook his head. "Someone else is coming. Besides, this place may look dilapidated, but it's actually rigged with numerous traps and excavated underground secret chambers. We need more specialized equipment!"

Beneath the church were secret chambers and ancient underground cells, relics from a distant past whose original purpose was long forgotten. After members of the Pain Source organization discovered this place, they had converted it into their base. Like moles, they lurked underground, with several entrances and exits. But with detailed maps, for Dean, it was just a game of whack-a-mole.

「A little over ten minutes later,」

three or four large trucks, the kind used for transporting livestock on farms, arrived.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean's older brother, Beck, jumped down from one of the trucks and gave Dean a hug. "You've been in closed training these past few days..."

Beck couldn't continue because he saw the blood-stained bandage under Dean's coat.

His eyes flashed with a fierce light. "Dean, who hurt you?"

"It's just a scratch," Dean said, patting Beck's shoulder with a smile and introducing Dick to him.

Anticipating that children might need to be taken away later, he had Beck ask their grandfather for a few vehicles for transport. He also seized this opportunity to show those cowboys something eye-opening, intending to use their subsequent chatter to intimidate the other ranchers!