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

itself. As he blew past the welcome sign that read: Population: three thousand, five hundred and sixty , he wondered what it would have been like to grow up there. City life had a way of draining energy out of you, but it was all he’d ever known. The sound of New York cabs honking impatiently, tourists and locals clogging up sidewalks and the ever-present cloud of darkness seeping out of alleys, seedy back joints and strangers’ eyes wasn’t something you got used to. You lived with it. You endured it and unless you were one of the lucky few who got out, you died in it.
    Here, though, the atmosphere felt light. A cool summer breeze blew in the smell of salt from the ocean, a few locals waved to one another, and trouble seemed to be absent. In the early hours of morning, the sun not fully up, yachts bobbed along the glistening harbor and early morning fishermen loaded their boats with traps. The town had all the charm of a New England fishing village. A main square in the downtown was lined with antique stores, art galleries, and beautifully adorned wooden plaques hanging outside gift shops, each one engraved with unique coastal names.
    The Impala curled down the steep roads and into a lonely stretch on the outskirts of town. Dense trees lined the roadside, shifting from oaks to towering pines as he got closer to the address he was searching for. Soon the leaves would change from the lush emerald-green landscape to reds and yellows. Apollo stuck his head out the window, sucking in the warm morning air and panting hard.
    Slowing down to a crawl, Jack pulled over to the edge of the road to observe the place. Nestled in, slightly back from the road, Old Orchard Motel looked as if it was right out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Steps led up to a large Victorian house that overlooked a rundown collection of rooms to the right. Outside, various construction materials sat untouched: unopened bags of shingles, a concrete mixer, and heaps of sand. A half-lit neon sign flickered, displaying rooms available, and a rusted Ford pickup truck was parked out front.
    Stepping out of the car, he let Apollo out to relieve himself and then poured a bottle of water into a plastic container. As the dog lapped it up, Jack lit a cigarette and grabbed the folder. He’d only had time to get the address, with no further details; he was curious to know who he was dealing with. It was always the who, not the what, that mattered to him in any job. How much they owed made little difference. Why they owed it was what made it interesting. Some jobs were simple. In and out, threaten or kill, but always collect. Others required a little more tact. Depending on the gravity of the situation, he would scout out the target, learn their schedule, and assess the level of risk before deciding on the best course of action. He never rushed in; that was a one-way ticket to an early grave.
    Attached to the top of the next page was a photo of the man with a shaved head. A flood of memories: gunfire, a woman screaming, and police storming in flashed through his mind. Matt Grant. His one regret—or as Gafino would say, mistake.
    Getting back into the car, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept since leaving. The car was luxury compared to the bed he’d been given inside lock-up. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but he awoke to the sound of a storm door creaking open. Rubbing his eyes, that’s when he first caught sight of her. Jack paused. She was attractive. Mid to early thirties? She wore her long, shiny raven hair back in a severe pony. Next to her, carrying a backpack, was a young boy; he couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old.
    He watched as they made their way down the long winding steps to the truck. He gave a short whistle and Apollo jumped back into the car. He waited for them to go by before he followed. Matt was either in the house, or they would lead him to his location. Either way, he was determined to