The Inn - James Patterson Page 0,81

an oo-rah, perhaps, but not wanting to drop their menacing cover. I admired the setup. Russ must have called the team of military thugs from his past when Vinny popped him, knowing that if his old friends didn’t swoop in and rescue him from Addison Gilbert, Cline would come creeping in before dawn. Even if Cline knew Russ was ex-military, he’d be safe from the drug lord behind his wall of human steel, at least until he was charged and incarcerated for attacking my house. I wondered if Bess, the nurse at the triage desk, had helped the men secure a way out for this damaged soldier turned gangster. She’d have known, looking at his injuries and the state of affairs in her hospital, what she was likely dealing with. Her assistance of the man before me might have cost the woman her life.

“Have the police been here yet?” I asked Russ.

“Two undercovers.” He shifted painfully against the pillows. “And I told them the same thing I’ll tell you. I’m not talking about Cline.”

“Are you serious? You’ll go to prison for that merciless prick?” I said. “You’ve got these beefcakes standing guard to protect you from him. You know he’s coming to kill you. Why don’t you put him where he belongs and save yourself?”

“Because if I stay quiet, he might give me a chance,” Russ said. “All I can hope is that after a while he’ll see that I’m still loyal and give up trying to get at me.”

“Look at you.” I gestured to his mangled leg. “Cline did this. It’s your service to him that got you into this fix. You’ll never walk properly again. And you want back in with this guy?”

“Man.” Russ shook his head. “You’ve still got no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“So enlighten me,” I said.

“Cline’s not one of these everyday dealers who is happy to lawyer up and do a small amount of time when he gets backed into a corner,” Russ said. “He’ll kill to make sure he doesn’t ever do time.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s got more to lose than just his business,” Russ said.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Russ just glared at me. He knew he’d said too much. I looked at his leg, fantasized about grabbing the apparatus supporting it and giving it a shake to get him to open up more. But I knew the guys at the door would turn me into a human pretzel at the slightest wrong move.

“Tell me how I can get to Cline,” I said. “I’ll solve your problem for you.”

“You won’t get near him.” Russ shook his head. “He’s cleared his house. He’s vulnerable until he gets a new crew. Cline will go to ground for a while, get some new soldiers, pop back up again. Maybe here. Maybe somewhere else.”

I felt the fury rising in my throat. “That’s bullshit. He doesn’t get to just come into my town, threaten and kill my friends, and then disappear.”

“He won’t disappear completely.” Russ smiled. “He’ll wait. In a few months, a year, maybe, he’ll come back into your life so silent and so fast you won’t know he’s there until he’s got his gun in your mouth. That’s what he does.”

A chill prickled through my body, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. I knew that the man before me had seen Cline do this, reappear in his victim’s life like a curse, never letting anyone escape him. If Cline hadn’t taken care of all his crew now, he would get to them in time. The most that Russell Hamdy could hope for was that the man would change his mind.

I realized my best chance to grab Cline was to do it now, before he disappeared and reemerged stronger than he had been before.

My phone rang in my pocket. We had spoken of the devil, and he’d heard himself being discussed.

CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

I DIDN’T LET him speak this time. I went out of the room before I answered and took the call in the hospital hallway.

“It takes a special kind of asshole to cut down his own men at the first sign of weakness,” I said. Cline wasn’t ready for my attack. He paused, and then he laughed.

“My uncle,” he said. “He bred racing greyhounds. Have I told you this?”

I was taken aback by Cline’s friendly, reflective tone. He sounded refreshed and bright, like someone waking from a long, deep sleep. Killing had done this to him, made him cheerful. I grunted.

“I forget who I’ve told