The Debt Collector (Book 1 of a Jack Winchester Organized Crime Action Thriller) (Jack Winchester Vigilante Justice Thriller Series)

by Jon Mills

  “Oh, you call busting his eye up and knocking out three of his teeth barely scratching?” She paused to take a breath. “He could lose his eye—don’t you get it? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He shrugged. “If people push, sometimes you’ve got to push back.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Who told you that?”

  Jack shuffled in his seat.

  “Tell her what you told me, Jack.”

  Her eyes widened as she flashed Jack a look of disbelief. Jack dropped his chin and sucked air between his teeth. She couldn’t believe it. Could this day get any worse?

  The rest of the journey home was filled with awkward silence. For a moment she had thought things were beginning to look up. The evening with Jack had made her forget that all too familiar feeling of drowning. Slowly suffocating beneath a mountain of debt, a pile of accusations from town folk, and the adolescent woes of raising a teenage son. She had worked so hard to protect him from the backlash of Matt’s disappearance. But there was only so much she could do. Had she known this was going to happen, she wouldn’t have allowed him to sleep over at Luke’s.

  Heck, she wouldn’t have even gone out. Now all she felt was regret about it all. She found herself wishing that she could have done something, anything, differently. Before Matt vanished and after.

  Now there was Jack caught up in the middle of it all. A wild card she had never expected. She couldn’t pretend that last night hadn’t changed anything. It had.

  And now this. She sighed.

  By the time they had collected Apollo from the kennel and returned to the motel, dusk was setting in. While it was a gorgeous evening, none of them seemed to care. Dana was the first out of the truck. She didn’t wait for either of them. Jason threw Jack a look that made it clear that he was sorry. Jack had him take Apollo for a walk while he went in to see if there was anything he could do to iron out matters.

  Jack paused with his hand on the front door, contemplating his next move.

  Inside, Dana was in the kitchen leaning against the sink. A soft breeze blew in from the open window. Her back was turned when he entered. He knew he was walking on eggshells, possibly about to speak where his opinion wasn’t wanted, but this needed to be put into perspective. Maybe he’d become numb to years of violence, but a little rough behavior among teens wasn’t anything to lose your cool over. The seriousness of it barely registered with him. In fact, unless there was mention of weapons involved or real threats of death, it was hard to take it serious; but then again, he’d never had a kid.

  “Dana. Look…”

  Without turning she began, “Why would you say that to him? And what did he mean by, if it wasn’t for you?”

  Jack breathed out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t prepared for this. Violent confrontations—those, he could handle. This was another reason he’d avoided getting involved with women beyond one night. They could never understand his line of work, his choices, his way of thinking, or how he dealt with situations. How could he ever have a normal conversation? To them, acts of violence weren’t normal. To him, however, it was all he’d known.

  “What I told him was my response to why I intervened with those bikers. I didn’t think he would take it literally.”

  “You didn’t think, that’s right.”

  “And I may have shown him a few ways to protect himself.”

  “Protect himself?” She was beginning to repeat everything he said.

  “If you weren’t aware, Dana, he’s been getting the shit kicked out of him by this kid on a daily basis.”

  “And you thought the solution was to show him how to do the same?”

  “I thought he had a right to protect himself.”

  “Jack, that might work where you come from. But I’m trying to instill in my kid that fighting is not the answer.”

  “And what is? Taking a beating? There’s no way in hell I would let my kid put up with that.”

  “You are not his father.”

  “No, I’m not, because if I was, I wouldn’t have laid a hand on you.”

  “What? This has nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh c’mon, Dana, it has everything to do with you. If Matt hadn’t laid a hand on you, do you think we would be having this discussion right now? You want to protect him from becoming like Matt. I get that. But you can’t control your son forever. Give him some slack.”

  “You don’t understand. Who the hell are you to tell me how to raise my son? If you hadn’t taught him how to fight, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Have you considered that?”

  “No, but then maybe it would have been your son in that hospital bed.”

  “Just go.”

  “Dana, I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. I think it’s best you move back out.”

  “Maybe it’s best I just leave altogether.”

  She turned; her eyes met his before looking away. Gone was the loving gaze that she’d given him at the lighthouse. She didn’t need to say any more; her eyes spoke volumes. That was all he needed to see to put this behind him. In many ways, the kid had done him a favor. He’d made it easier to leave. What the hell had he been thinking, getting involved with her? He would collect the money in the morning and be on his way.

  Upstairs, he removed the few clothes she’d hung in the closet and stuffed them into his bag. He regretted how attached he’d become. It wasn’t like him to get involved. It wasn’t his way. And yet he had. For a moment, he thought he’d found someone who gave him a reason to change—a place where he could rest his head, and finish the remainder of his days away from the violence. A second chance to be something other than a killer. What a mistake that was.

  His phone lay on the bed, buzzing. He ignored it.

  No doubt it was Gafino. After Jack had phoned him from the café the previous night to let him know he’d found the money, he was probably calling back to confirm that all the loose ends had been tied up. Loose ends, of course, meant anyone who could tie him to the death of Dana and Jason. But they weren’t going to die. He must have known that. He shook his head; if only he knew how deep he’d got. The entire town was a loose end. He’d played this wrong, that was for sure. No, he would tell Gafino it was done. Gafino had no reason to follow up. The only times he ever had was when he suffered a loss. As long as he had the stacks of green reflecting back in his eyes, a small town in the armpit of Maine would mean little to him. It was one more job completed. Rockland Cove would be nothing more than a distant memory that he’d soon forget.

  They would go about their lives, and he’d be none the wiser.

  Chapter 25

  DANA WATCHED JACK leave before stepping outside onto the back porch. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. Was he right? Would she have thought differently if it had been her son in hospital? If Matt had never beaten her black and blue, would she have had such aversion to violence? The thought of a court date on top of the past year, along with getting involved with someone she barely knew, only compounded the stress she felt. Even if he was what she wanted, it was the wrong timing. Maybe once she’d sold the motel, put a few more years between her and Matt; perhaps then she’d be ready for another relationship.

  Jack heard him long before he saw him.

  “Jack!” Jason shouted.

  His cry broke through his mental focus. Jack had only made it down a few steps when Jason appeared out of the dark, his flashlight jerking all over the place. He turned toward the kid.

  “I…”

  “Slow down. Take a breath.”

  When he reached him Jason bent slightly, trying to catch a breath. His hands pressed against his knees as sweat dripped off his forehead.

  “Apollo. I can’t find him.”

  Jack’s head turned from side to side. “What happened?”

  “I…I was…I was with him out by the old barn. I tossed a stick; he shot off to get it but he never returned. I thought maybe he’d seen a rabbit or something. But he didn’t re
spond to my call. I tried looking, but I don’t where he is. I’m sorry, Jack.”

  Jack dropped his bag, rested his hand on Jason’s back.

  “Alright, it’s okay; he’s probably just being stubborn. Where were you?”

  Jason pointed in the direction that he’d just come from. Jack took Jason’s flashlight and headed out, calling for his dog.

  The light from his flashlight skimmed the forest ground. The darkness beneath his light was alive. Unseen critters scurried beneath the cover of thick brush. It was pitch black. As the light fell upon a dark mound, Jack’s eyes slowly grew wide, expecting the worse. Met with the horrific sight of Apollo’s lifeless body, his stomach churned. He staggered back, unable to retract his gaze from the blood seeping out a gaping hole at the side of Apollo’s head. A single bullet wound. Jason hadn’t mentioned hearing a gunshot, and Jack himself hadn’t heard a sound. A suppressor? He felt his skin come alive. Behind him, Dana and Jason caught up. He lifted a hand, trying to save them from the shock that had assaulted him.

  “Get inside,” he muttered, while his eyes whipped across the tree line.

  The hair on the back of his neck lifted as he sensed someone.

  “What? What the hell’s going on, Jack?”

  Jason stumbled forward, then gasped as he caught sight of Apollo. “Holy shit.”

  “Go. Now!” he yelled.

  His voice carried for only a second before it was overridden by the snap of bullets. Turning on their heels in the direction they had come from, they raced toward the house, stumbling over fallen branches. Unable to pinpoint the spot the gunfire came from, Jack pulled his gun from his waist and backed up fast. Branches snapped beneath his feet.

  Exposed. Out in the open. Surrounded by total darkness. All three were a lethal combination. He hadn’t made it within five feet of the house when another hail of bullets snapped past him, shattering the windows of the sunroom. Jack moved from tree to tree until he was able to dash into the cover of the house. As he slid in across the floor, he could see Dana and Jason cowering beneath the table in the kitchen.

  “Jack? Who’s shooting? What the hell is going on?” Dana cried.

  “I will tell you everything. Just stay put.” He shot a glance out the window before scrambling over to them, keeping close to the ground.

  “I’ll call the police,” she stammered, clinging to Jason.

  “Don’t,” Jack said immediately.

  He glanced at the cell in her hand. He let out a deep groan before passing Dana his Glock. “You know how to shoot one of these?”

  “No.”

  “It’s simple, just point and shoot. There is no safety.”

  The sound of a familiar taunting voice called out. “Come on, Jack. Don’t make this hard.”

  He paused, throwing a cautious glance toward the back door before looking back at her and closing her fingers around the Glock 22. “Anyone comes in besides me, kill them. Don’t think twice. Now, head upstairs.”

  “But I…”

  “Just do it.”

  He watched as they hugged the floor in terror and disappeared into the hallway.

  He scrambled over to the kitchen area. His eyes flicked across the counter. He yanked the drawer out, causing all the utensils to clatter onto the tiled floor. Scooping up the nearest items, a sharp knife and a bottle opener, he hurried down the corridor. Hunched over, he pulled back the blind covering the front door window. It was impossible to see if anyone was there. The house had no floodlights. It was a gamble either way he went. Front or back. No doubt they would have covered both. With his back pressed to the wall he waited in the darkness. In the silence he could hear his heartbeat.

  “Jack. It’s Freddy. We’re not going to harm you.”

  The sound of Freddy’s voice from outside was close. He couldn’t have been more than a few yards from the front door. Jack hesitated before replying.

  “He killed my dog, Freddy.”

  Keeping low, he moved tight against the floor. He knew never to stay in one spot.

  “Fuck. Fuck it.” He could hear the muffled sound of Freddy’s voice just beyond the door.

  Clearly Freddy had no idea. How many more of them were there? One out back, Freddy around front—had they brought others?

  “Louis with you?”

  “No, Jack. Just me and Tony. Come on out and let’s talk.”

  This time his voice was closer; he must have been circling the house, since his position had changed. From this angle, crouched behind the sofa, he had a clear shot of the front door. He saw Freddy’s silhouette through the glass. The door creaked open. The barrel of the gun appeared first, followed by the man himself. Jack tossed the bottle opener across the floor. It clattered and he rolled into position against the entrance wall. Holding his breath, he waited. Every fiber of his being was alert. The moment he saw Freddy’s foot step inside, he jammed the knife down through his boot.

  Freddy screamed in agony, letting off several rounds. Jack leapt up, grabbed his arm, and slammed his forehead into the man’s face until he fell back to the floor, thrashing in excruciating pain. His foot was still stuck to the hardwood flaw by the tip of the knife.

  At the sound of the back door breaking off its hinges, Jack snatched the Beretta from Freddy, ran, and leapt out the open window.

  Pulse racing, he knew he had a mere few seconds before Tony spotted him. Staying in the shadows, he circled around back. From inside, he could hear Tony yelling.

  “Freddy? Where you at?”

  The muffled cries of Freddy could be heard bouncing off the walls of the house. Jack heard a shotgun being pumped, and a shell hit the tiled floor. Like a piston he bolted up, stole a peek, and dropped back down. His breathing had become heavy. Inside, Tony cradled his weapon and prowled carefully through the kitchen area. Shattered glass crunched beneath his boots.

  Jack crept forward with the Beretta lowered to the floor. As he flung open the door, everything started at once. Tony spun around, letting off several rounds that peppered the wall. Jack dropped to the ground, his arm slicing on glass as he pumped two shots into Tony, dropping him to the floor. Then there was silence, except for the groaning of both men. Jack rose to his feet, and without saying a word, he walked over to Tony. Still alive and coughing up blood, his former comrade’s eyes grew wide. Without missing a beat, Jack unloaded three more rounds into his skull.

  Lowering the gun, he walked to the hallway and returned to where Freddy was still writhing in pain. About to shoot him, Freddy threw up his hands.

  “Jack. Jack, I swear. I was against this.”

  “Why, Freddy? Gafino knew I was going to bring the money.”

  “It was a setup, Jack. Gafino doesn’t know.”

  Surprised and angered, he adjusted his grip on the gun. “What?”

  “Vincent. He’s the one that orchestrated all of this. We were meant to collect the money, make sure the woman and kid were killed and then—”

  “Kill me,” Jack cut him off.

  “No. Bring you in.”

  “Why?”

  Through gritted teeth he spat, “Why do you think? Gafino. The old timers, they’re things of the past. Vincent’s calling the shots now. That whole drug deal—he was behind that. He had his own deal going. That’s why it was never tested. You weren’t meant to be there. But once Gafino got wind of it, well…”

  Jack kept his gun locked on him.

  “Think about it, Jack.”

  Jack recalled the day of the drug deal with Matt. Like a montage, the small overlooked things replayed in his mind. What Matt had asked. Where’s Trig? Jack’s mind flashed forward four years to the first time he saw Vincent. The tattoo on this knuckles spelled Trig. Nicky Civella had told Gafino that he’d given the money he owed to Vincent. Tony’s words: You’re not in charge, Vincent is.

  “And Matt Grant?”

  Freddy groaned in pain. “He’s dead.”

  “So you take the money, bring me in to Vincent, and then what?” Jack lift
ed his gun, keeping it fixed on him.

  “Please, Jack.” He groaned in agony.

  “Tell me.”

  “He’d tell Gafino that you were gonna bolt with the money. That’s all I know.”

  Jack nodded slowly. “So I’d be out of the picture, and no one would question him. But why wait to kill me?” Jack muttered to himself.

  “He wanted you alive. Injured, but alive. What he had in mind from there he didn’t say.”

  Freddy groaned while reaching for his foot.

  “Give me your phone.”

  “What?”

  “Your phone.” Jack rifled through Freddy’s pockets. Retrieving it, he brought up his contact list and pressed a number.

  “Is it done?” Vincent’s voice said on the other end a few seconds later.

  Jack remained silent.

  “Freddy?”

  “He’s unavailable,” Jack replied.

  There was silence on the other end.

  “I’m coming for you,” Jack said and then dropped the phone, crunching it beneath his boot and twisting his foot around.

  Right at that moment, the faint sounds of cop sirens could be heard in the distance. Barely able to form words because of the pain, Freddy pleaded for his life.

  “Please, Jack, we’ve got history. I was just doing what I was told. You understand that, right?”

  Jack stared at him for a moment before turning his head at the sound of a creak on the stairs. In that moment he saw a glint of silver out of the corner of his eye. Before Freddy could raise the gun he’d pulled from a holster around his ankle, Jack fired a round into his skull. His body went limp. A pool of dark blood spread out from his hair.

  He stared at his lifeless body.

  “You knew them?”

  Startled, Jack twisted around to find Dana on the stairs. His own gun was aimed at him. Her face was a picture of pure horror. He took a step forward.

  “Stay where you are.”

  “Dana.”

  He moved again, and as he did she haphazardly fired a round close to his feet, putting a hole the size of a dime in the flooring.

  “Dana, this isn’t what you think…”