Highway to Vengeance: A Thomas Highway Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

the front half of the large
SUV passed out of sight and into the garage. After glancing once
more at the street to make sure it was still clear, I stood up and
started walking quickly but unhurriedly towards the garage.
    A few seconds later, I was standing with my
back against the stucco wall of the garage, H&K in hand, my
heart pounding, my breath quick and ragged, my muscles tensing up.
It had been years since I’d done anything like this, and my body
was reacting poorly. I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to
relax, but it only helped a little. Three years of inactivity
suddenly felt like a very long time.
    Despite being completely exposed were a car
to come down the street, I forced myself to wait until the garage
door started to close before making my move. Going in too early
would create too many uncontrollable variables.
    From my position I could hear everything
going on in the garage. The brakes being engaged. The car coming to
a stop. The engine shutting off. The driver’s door being opened
then shut. And finally the familiar whine of the garage door engine
being engaged.
    I took a final deep breath, then turned the
corner and stepped into the garage, careful to step over the ground
sensor.
    Russo had just stepped out of the car and
was turning towards the door leading to the house when he saw me
come around the corner. He stopped abruptly. His face went pale,
his eyes widened, his mouth opened slightly as if to cry out.
    I raised the gun and pointed it at his face.
“Don’t make a fucking sound.”
    Behind me, the garage door finished closing,
effectively cutting us off from the outside world.
    Russo’s arms were hanging down by his side.
His keys were in his right hand and a black leather briefcase was
in his left. He was shaking so badly that the keys were
rattling.
    I moved forward, narrowing the distance
between us but making sure to stay out of Russo’s reach, just in
case. There was nothing to indicate that the smaller man would pose
even the hint of a problem, but it was best not to get into bad
habits.
    “Drop your stuff,” I said.
    Russo’s keys and briefcase fell to the
ground with a clatter.
    “Now turn around.”
    “Why?” Russo said. “So you can shoot me in
the back?” He shook his head. “No way, man. No way.”
    “Listen shithead. If I was going to kill you
I’d have done it already. Now shut the fuck up and turn around or
I’ll put a bullet in your kneecap.”
    He paused for a moment before turning around
but only after the tears started to flow. To me, this meant two
things.
    One: My theory of him being behind the
murders was clearly out the window now. He was obviously not
capable. Russo was nothing more than a middle man, if not just an
outright pawn in this situation.
    Two: Getting information from him was going
to be easier than I had thought. There was no reason to get violent
unless absolutely necessary; in fact, the soft approach would
likely be more effective than the hard one in this case. Pain would
undoubtedly just make him start blubbering. And that was the last
thing I wanted.
    “Listen,” I said, softening my tone
considerably to reflect my new direction. “I just want to talk. So
if you do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you, then we should
be able to get through this without any real discomfort, okay?”
    “O . . . Okay,” he said, confusion writ
large over his face.
    I dipped into my fanny pack and traded the
gun for a pair of zip-ties that had been looped together to form
temporary handcuffs.
    “Put your hands behind your back.
Slowly.”
    Russo did as he was told.
    “Good,” I said. “Now, I’m going to come over
and secure your arms together at the wrists. If you don’t tense up,
it won’t be uncomfortable.”
    I stepped forward and bound Russo’s hands
together with a zip-tie. He didn’t so much as flinch.
    “Now we’re going to go inside your house and
have a little talk,” I said. “Stay cool and everything will be
fine.”
    Russo