Road Rules Online

Luis returned after another brief eternity and untied Mason.  “Come on.  We’re going on a long trip.”

“To kill me?” said Mason.  Surprisingly, he felt no fear.

Luis laughed.  “If your story checks out, you may live, Mr. Mason.  It all depends on our boss.”

Boss?  Did Franco have a rival they didn’t know about?  Of course, he did.  What organized crime figure didn’t have rivals?  “Who’s your boss?”

“Jesus.”  He said it like, “Hey, Zeus.”

That name sounded familiar.  Mason once dealt with a Jesus in Miami.  Maybe he could deal his way out of this if they knew the guy.  “Does this Jesus know a guy named Franco very well?”

The name Franco split Luis’ face into a huge grin.  “Julian?”

“Yes.”

Luis bellowed with laughter.  “Mr. Mason, you will definitely live.  Let’s  go.”

“Wha’?”

Gallagher started as someone nudged his arm.  His reading glasses had slid into the book in his lap.  “It’s only 8:30.”  He looked up at Gladys, who’d already donned her bathrobe and nightgown for the night.  “What is it?”

“First,” she said, “go read in bed.  You have an early Mass tomorrow morning.  Second, there’s a Miguel on the phone.”

“Miguel who?”

“He said you’d know.”

Oh.  That Miguel.  He gave Gladys’ hand an affectionate squeeze.  “I’ll take it in here.  Thank you, Gladys.”

“Will you be needing anything further this evening?”  She cocked an eyebrow at him. (continue reading…)

“I understand, officer,” said Mike as he took the ticket from the South Carolina trooper.  They sat about a mile from the I-26/I-95 interchange in Bowman, the sun bright and low behind them in the west.  “Guess I let my speed creep up on me.”

“Mail that in by next Friday,” said the trooper, who crouched so he could talk to Mike, “and you won’t have to come back for a court appearance.”  He stood to leave.  “Have a nice evening, sir.”

As soon as the cruiser killed its lights and pulled away from the Camry, Mike checked his watch.  “8:05.  If we can avoid anymore tickets, we should be in Savannah by ten.”

From the backseat Cinnamon said, “I’ll get us there by ten.  Time for us to switch seats, anyway.”

In the seat next to Mike, Stan snored.

“He’s got the right idea,” said Cinnamon.  “Why don’t you get some sleep back there.”

Mike got out of the car and met Cinnamon around front.  “It’s too early for me.  Besides, I wasn’t the one who went to the buffet three times.”

“True.  But if we follow this pattern, you’re going to be driving again at two in the morning.”

“I’ll take a nap after Savannah.  It’s too early for me right now.”

“What about him?”

“We’ll worry about him in Savannah.  Let him sleep.  He’s gotta drive us to Jacksonville, anyway.  And you have the Daytona to Miami leg.”

They climbed back in the car, switching positions.

“Relax,” said Cinnamon.  “I’m pretty good about dodging cops.”

She fired up the engine and started off toward I-95.

Chapter 17

Mason screamed at the top of his lungs as Luis held the cigarette butt to his arm.  They had only ratcheted up the pain in the last half hour.  That assumed, of course, Mason had any real sense of time left.  They’d closed up the tobacco shed, leaving a naked incandescent bulb as the only light.

Luis said nothing whenever he dragged on the cigarette again then pressed it to Mason’s arm.  In fact, Luis hadn’t said anything in either English or Spanish since they discovered the Chest was missing.

At first, they locked him in the shed with no light, driving off somewhere for what seemed like an hour.  Since they’d bound him, he couldn’t check his watch.

They came back in two different vehicles, which told Mason they were locals.  Still, they left him in darkness for some time after they returned.  He’d heard murmuring outside, the occasional laugh, but nothing intelligible.  Mason knew exactly what they were doing.  Breaking him, making him nervous leaving him in the dark and isolated from civilization, hoping to crush his resistance.

It worked, too. (continue reading…)