Blood Trade: A Sean Coleman Thriller Read Free Page B

more glazed than drunk; his footing
was solid and his speech wasn’t slurred. Regardless, he clearly wasn’t interested
in waiting around for the police to arrive.
    Feeling the weight of the situation pressing down across his shoulders, Andrew searched
for an excuse to decline the request—one that wouldn’t provoke a physical confrontation
with the large man.
    “Listen, I’m not headed to Denver, and besides, I’m just about out of gas.”
    “I’ll pay you for the gas,” said the man. “We’ll stop at the next gas station.”
    Andrew’s pulse picked up. He felt the situation quickly spiraling out of his grasp.
He speculated that the man was not going to take no for an answer. In the developing
tension, he strained to hear the hopeful sound of faint police sirens. There was
none.
    “Come on,” urged the man. “Do me this favor, all right?”
    Anxious indecision jetted through Andrew’s veins like electricity through a wire.
He weighed different tactics in his mind, but none felt promising. If he said no,
the man might get angry, toss him down the hill, and take his car from him. Maybe
the car stuck at the bottom of the hill was stolen and that was why the man didn’t
have any qualms about leaving it behind. If he said yes, he was trapping himself
in a situation that he might not be able to get out of. The guy could be an axe murderer
for all Andrew knew.
    He repeatedly glanced up at the highway above, yearning to find the headlights of
another car making its way down the ramp toward them. It would give him a chance
to wave down some help and inject a buffer into the situation. Not a single automobile
had passed down the road since the driver in the van had abandoned him. Andrew was
on his own.
    His mind raced, desperate to avoid a physical confrontation with the giant man. An
idea filtered into his head. “I have a tow rope in my car!” he spewed. “I can pull
you out of that ditch with it.”
    Though he was sure that the man’s first priority was leaving the scene, Andrew banked
on his preference to do so in his own car. If he’d stolen the car, however, that
might change things. Andrew prayed that wasn’t the case. It was best not to give
the man too much time to dwell on the proposal. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right
back with my car.”
    Andrew spun away from the man and began walking briskly down the shoulder of the
road. He had begun his career in software sales. Taking away the luxury of choice
was a classic professional maneuver from a seasoned salesman, and he used that now.
Andrew kept his stride even over the cold ground, with only a hint of his typically
more pronounced limp. He was wary of advertising any sign of weakness to the more
physically endowed man. It made him feel like a small, injured animal fearful of
distinguishing itself to a stalking predator.
    Even with his back to the man, he could sense the stranger’s imperialistic eyes scrutinizing
his every step and movement. He discreetly brushed his hand along his front pants
pocket, panicking for a moment when he didn’t feel the bulge of his car keys inside.
He breathed again when he found them in the other pocket. He rehearsed a drill in
his mind—quickly hop in the driver’s seat of his car, crank the engine, and leave
the confused stranger behind in a cloud of exhaust as he tore down the interstate
alone.
    He had no intention of helping the man out of this predicament. He didn’t even have
a rope in his car. He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of situation he had come upon
there on that exit ramp in the middle of the night, but he was certain that if he
didn’t cut things loose right now, he’d undoubtedly end up paying some kind of price.
    As he put more distance from the man, he started to feel more at ease. His mind flew
through his drill again.
    The faint shift of gravel and the intermittent scuffing of wet pavement behind him
caught his ear.
    Andrew’s heart sank.
    As nonchalantly as possible, he bent his