This Is Slapping My Face (Four Updates, Seeking Full Subscription!!!)

Rumble rumble!

A helicopter hovered directly over a location in Queens.

A team of Homeland agents descended directly via ropes.

"Go, go, go!"

"Breach the door!"

Boom!

"DHS!"

"DHS!"

"Get down, get down, get down!"

"Watch out, gun!"

Rat-tat-tat!

Rat-tat-tat-tat!

After a gunfight, several thugs, trembling, raised their hands and lay on the ground. Glancing sideways, they saw their deceased colleagues with bullet holes bleeding externally.

Jack, who was leading the team personally, surveyed the spacious warehouse where several clearly stolen vehicles were parked. He pressed his earpiece: "Base, target not found. Repeat, target not found."

Three hours ago, Lake’s new Porsche Cayenne, which he had purchased less than half an hour prior, had been stolen by car thieves directly in front of the New York Homeland Building.

And now?

They had tracked the vehicle to its last known location, only to find the car gone?

Sitting in the Homeland Operations Center, Lake took a deep breath: "Jack, ask them."

He wanted to kill someone.

But…

Right now, more than the urge to kill, the most pressing matter was to find his new car quickly. Damn it, Lake had driven that car for at most twenty minutes. He’d only been gone for ten minutes in total, and it was stolen?

How brazen!

This was the new car of a senior supervisor at the Department of Homeland Security, not just some random person. The public safety situation in New York was too terrible.

Receiving the information, Jack nodded and signaled a team member. He then turned to a thug being pulled up by a team member and asked, "About thirty-five minutes ago, a white Porsche Cayenne, nine-tenths new…"

Lake raised an eyebrow: "Brand new."

My brand new car, how did it become nine-tenths new? Did it depreciate the moment I drove it off the lot?

Jack didn’t correct him and directly asked, "Where did this car go?"

The thug trembled: "I don’t know."

Slap!

Jack slapped the thug directly: "Be honest, where’s the car?"

The thug was close to tears: "I really don’t know. I was working inside the whole time and didn’t come outside."

Jack’s gaze fell on another thug nearby: "How about you."

The thug shook his head and quickly gestured with his eyes towards the colleagues who had tried to resist law enforcement and were now down: "I was inside too. I only knew something was happening when I heard the commotion outside. They were the ones outside just now."

This was bad.

They were silenced.

Lake stood up and said to Jack, "Kill them."

Jack nodded, drew his pistol, and aimed it at the first thug.

"Wait!"

"…Speak."

"Stolen new cars are usually sent from us to the upstream people. The car you’re looking for must be there. Don’t kill me, please, don’t kill me."

"Name."

"I don’t know. We just do detailing for cars."

"…"

Jack shook his head and raised the pistol he had just lowered. Lake’s new car, stolen less than half an hour after he bought it, had definitely made him angry. Clearly, the Department of Homeland Security didn’t want to face their boss’s wrath, but someone had to put out the fire.

"Wait, wait, wait!" The thug, seeing the raised pistol, shouted again: "Job Lewis. He cooperates with our boss and is also responsible for connecting us. He definitely knows. That’s all I know, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me."

Jack remained silent.

Lake frowned: "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

Who was it?

Tiffany, his assistant nearby, seemed to recall something. She flipped through the documents in her hand, then pulled out a business card and handed it to Lake: "Sir, it was this Job Lewis who sold you the car."

Lake was slightly stunned: "What?"

The business card clearly showed the name of the sales manager: Jobb Lewis.

Well, I’ll be damned.

They were bold enough to pull a double-cross right under my nose. I knew something was up; how else could a car I’d owned for less than half an hour be targeted by car thieves so quickly?

"Jack!"

"Here."

"Bring him back to me. I want him alive, understand?"

"Understood!"

Lake stood up, took a deep breath, and then walked directly out of the operations hall. "Forget it. Catch him, send me the coordinates, and I’ll interrogate him myself."

Even though this new car cost less than fifty thousand US dollars, every cent was Lake’s hard-earned money, truly earned through sweat and blood, accumulated bit by bit from his salary and bonuses.

Finding this Jobb Lewis was easy.

He was still working at the car dealership.

Jack and his team took a helicopter and directly air-dropped into the car dealership, immediately apprehending Jobb Lewis. The others were also taken into custody.

Soon.

Assistant Tiffany arrived at the car dealership by car.

Lake walked into the store with a grim expression.

When Jobb Lewis saw Lake, his panicked, confused expression instantly froze.

That’s right.

Lake approached with a blank expression and looked at Jobb Lewis. "Do you know why I’m looking for you?"

Jobb Lewis snapped back to reality and then shook his head. "No."

"Bang!"

"Ah!"

The other salespeople in the store immediately screamed. Jobb Lewis clutched his thigh, letting out a piercing cry.

"Who’s the boss?"

"This one."

Lake followed Jack’s gaze to a bald, pot-bellied middle-aged man and explained the situation with a blank expression. "I just bought a car, and it was stolen less than thirty minutes later. I busted a car theft ring, and I found out your employee was cooperating with them. So, is this a crooked dealership?"

Selling at a high price?

Buying low?

And then selling high again?

The bald boss’s forehead broke out in a cold sweat. "How could we possibly be a crooked dealership? Absolutely not, absolutely not."

Lake’s expression remained unchanged. "Are you saying I’m lying?"

The bald boss panicked and pointed to the other new cars in the store. "We’ll compensate you. Whichever one you like, we’ll replace it."

Lake was speechless.

Was this about compensation? This was about him being slapped in the face.

Just then.

Wail, wail, wail!

The NYPD arrived. Fortunately, the NYPD didn’t immediately take a hostile stance upon seeing the helicopter with Homeland Security markings parked in the lot.

A moment later.

Jack walked in, leading George.

Lake turned to look at George. "Don’t laugh. I’m very angry right now."

George raised his hands and shook his head. "So, you caused this much of a scene."

"It’s about dignity."

"Alright."

George understood Lake’s current position. The car of a senior official from the Department of Homeland Security had been stolen; wasn’t that a direct slap in the face? "Did you find anything out?"

Lake’s expressionless gaze fell on Jobb Lewis, who was sweating profusely, his two bullet-riddled thighs bleeding, and his body starting to tremble. "Last time, I’m asking you: are you going to talk or not?"

Jobb Lewis’s forehead was covered in cold sweat, but he was also a tough guy. He seemed to see the NYPD officers arriving, so he felt emboldened. Gritting his teeth, his voice trembling, he said, "I want to see my lawyer. I’m going to sue…"

"Bang!"

"Lake."

"What?"

George took a deep breath and looked at Jobb Lewis, whose forehead had been pierced, his eyes wide open in death. He looked at Lake with a complex expression. "Are you crazy?"

He said.

George’s eyes swept around the room. The few sales staff inside seemed to be saying, "Even if you draw your gun, you should pick your spot, there are so many people watching here."

Lake let out a cold laugh and said to Jack, "We have a tip that the employees here are involved in terrorist activities. Take them back, and also, take back all the surveillance footage from here."

Jack nodded immediately.

Lake then looked at George, "What did you just say?"

George opened his mouth, then shook his head, "Clean up the aftermath. I’ll help you ask around to see if anyone received your car."

Lake said, "Thank you."

Fifteen minutes later.

Homeland Security vehicles arrived. They rounded up everyone in the store, the owner and several sales staff, and put them into escort vehicles before heading directly to Homeland Security.

In the afternoon.

The forensics department at the Homeland Building obtained the call records of Job Lewis from the communications company, but they didn’t find any special numbers.

Did we arrest the wrong person?

No way.

Soon.

As the Homeland Building was preparing to investigate the surveillance footage they had dismantled from the store, news came from George at the NYPD.

There were many car theft rings in New York.

But stealing cars was one thing, and receiving stolen cars was another. Many people stole cars, but fewer people received them. And even fewer receiving rings had the capability to handle luxury cars.

After George contacted several informants, one of them sent him a message: a car receiving team located in Hell’s Kitchen had moved a batch of goods around noon today.

Lake and Jack’s tactical team immediately descended upon Hell’s Kitchen.

George was already there.

However…

What greeted them was a warehouse full of corpses.

"You did this?" Lake asked George as he got off the helicopter and arrived at the scene.

George’s eyes widened, "How is that possible?"

Just then.

A middle-aged man in a suit, tie, and greasy hairstyle, who clearly looked like a lawyer, walked over. "Director Edwin!"

Lake and George looked at the man being held back by Jack’s subordinates.

"Let him in."

"Thank you."

The middle-aged man walked over and handed Lake a stack of documents and a photograph.

Lake looked at the documents in his hand, then at the photograph of the car he had just bought, still wrapped in plastic wrap, and raised an eyebrow. He then handed the criminal file of the car receiving ring to George beside him.

The middle-aged man said, "Our boss was unaware of this, nor did he know that someone here would dare to offend Director Edwin. This is their criminal record. Our boss hopes to quell your anger."

This was Hell’s Kitchen.

Undoubtedly.

It wasn’t difficult to guess the name of the boss the middle-aged man mentioned.

Kingpin!