Just One Look by Harlan Coben Read Free Book Online Page A

Rocky took a closer look. The man wore fatigues. He was short and squat, built like a perfect square. Looked like he worked out, Rocky thought. The guy-he looked Chinese or something-stood perfectly still, stonelike.
    At least for a few seconds.
    Gently, almost like a lover’s touch, the Chinese guy reached up and put his hand on Lawson’s shoulder. For a fleeting moment Rocky thought that maybe he had stumbled across a gay tryst. But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all.
    Jack Lawson dropped to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut.
    Rocky stifled a gasp. The Chinese guy looked down at the crumpled form. He bent down and picked Lawson up by… hell, it looked like the neck. Like you’d pick up a puppy or something. By the scruff of his neck.
    Oh damn, Rocky thought. I better call this in.
    Without breaking a sweat, the Chinese guy started carrying Lawson toward his car. With one hand. Like the guy was a briefcase or something. Rocky reached for his cell phone.
    Crap, he’d left it in the car.
    Okay, think, Rocky. The car the Chinese guy was driving. It was a Honda Accord. New Jersey plates. Rocky tried to memorize the number. He watched while the Chinese guy opened the trunk. He dumped Lawson in as if he were a load of laundry.
    Oh man, now what?
    Rocky’s orders were firm. Do not engage. How many times had he heard that? Whatever you do, just observe. Do not engage.
    He didn’t know what to do.
    Should he just follow?
    Uh-uh, no way. Jack Lawson was in the trunk. Look, Rocky did not know the man. He didn’t know why he was supposed to follow him. He’d figured that they’d been hired to follow Lawson for the usual reason-his wife suspected him of having an affair. That was one thing. Follow and prove infidelity. But this…?
    Lawson had been assaulted. For crying out loud, he’d been locked in the trunk by this muscle-headed Jackie Chan. Could Rocky just sit back and let that happen?
    No.
    Whatever Rocky had done, whatever he had become, he was not about to let that stand. Suppose he lost the Chinese guy? Suppose there wasn’t enough air in the trunk? Suppose Lawson had been seriously injured already and was dying?
    Rocky had to do something.
    Should he call the police?
    The Chinese guy slammed the trunk closed. He started for the front seat.
    Too late to call anyone. He had to make his move now.
    Rocky remained six-four, two-sixty, and rock solid. He was a professional fighter. Not a show boxer. Not a phony, staged wrestler. A real fighter. He didn’t have a gun, but he knew how to take care of himself.
    Rocky started running toward the car.
    “Hey!” he shouted. “Hey, you! Stop right there!”
    The Chinese guy-as he got closer, Rocky could see he was more like a kid-looked up. His expression did not change. He just stared as Rocky ran toward him. He did not move. He did not try to get in the car and drive away. He waited patiently.
    “Hey!”
    The Chinese kid stayed still.
    Rocky stopped a yard in front of him. Their eyes met. Rocky did not like what he saw. He had played football against some true headcases. He’d fought pain-happy crazies in the Ultimate Fighting ring. He had stared into the eyes of pure psychos-guys who got off on hurting people. This was not like this. This was like staring into the eyes of… something not alive. A rock maybe. An inanimate object of some kind. There was no fear, no mercy, no reason.
    “May I help you?” the Chinese kid said.
    “I saw… Let that man out of the trunk.”
    The kid nodded. “Of course.”
    The kid glanced toward the trunk. So did Rocky. And that was when Eric Wu struck.
    Rocky never saw the blow. Wu ducked down, twisted his hips for power, and smashed his fist into Rocky’s kidney. Rocky had taken shots before. He had been punched in the kidney by men twice this size. But nothing had ever hit him like this. The blow landed like a sledgehammer.
    Rocky gasped but stayed on his feet. Wu moved in and jabbed something hard into Rocky’s