Just One Look (2004) by Harlan Coben Read Free Book Online

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 liver. It felt like a barbecue skewer. The pain exploded through him.
    Rocky's mouth opened, but the scream wouldn't come out. He fell to the ground. Wu dropped down next to him. The last thing Rocky saw--the last thing he would ever see--was Eric Wu's face, calm and serene, as he placed his hands under Rocky's rib cage.
    Lorraine, Rocky thought. And then nothing more.

Chapter 5
    Grace caught herself mid-scream. She jerked upright. The light was still on in the hallway. A silhouette stood in her doorway. But it wasn't Jack.
    She awoke, still gasping. A dream. She knew that. On some elusive level, she had known that midway through. She'd had this dream before, plenty of times, though not in a long time. Must be the upcoming anniversary, she thought.
    She tried to settle back. It wouldn't happen. The dream always started and ended the same. The variations occurred in the middle.
    In the dream Grace was back at the old Boston Garden. The stage was directly in front of