“If I say so, you will.”
“If I don’t,” Decker said, “you don’t.”
Mosca sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his belly.
“I said I knew Coles, not that I was ready to die for him. You can leave—just don’t come back.”
“I won’t.”
“And take your pup over there at the bar with you.”
Decker looked at Billy Rosewood and jerked his head toward the door. Rosewood moved away from the bar, walked to the door and left the saloon.
“Now you.”
“If you make a move against me, Mosca, I’ll have to kill you.”
“This is between you and Coles, Decker,” Mosca said. “I said we knew him, but Armand Coles has no friends in here.”
“Good enough,” Decker said.
Decker stood up, then looked over at Lola, who was leaning on the bar with both elbows, her impressive chest thrust forward.
“Maybe another time, Lola.”
She smiled at him and winked, and Decker backed toward the door, deeping his eyes on Mosca. At the big man’s slightest move, he would pull his shotgun and blow the man’s gut wide open—although he’d prefer to avoid that.
He stopped when his back hit the door.
“If Coles is here,” he said out loud, “or if any of you ever see him, tell him to come at me from the front and not from the back like a coward. You tell him that.”
Decker reached behind him with his left hand, opened the door and backed out.
“Whew!” Billy Rosewood said. “I thought for sure we were dead.”
“Now, what made you think that?”
“The way Mosca was talking.”
“Billy,” Decker said, “talking doesn’t kill. Killing kills.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means that if a man’s going to kill you, he doesn’t talk about it—he does it.”
“You said you’d kill Mosca.”
“The call was his,” Decker said, “but believe me, if he had made it, I would have killed him.”
“I believe you.”
“Let’s get going,” Decker said. He started down the street to where Rosewood had left his cab.
“Where to?” Rosewood asked, trotting to catch up.
“The hospital.”
“You hurt?”
“No,” Decker said, “I’m just keeping a promise.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Linda had told Decker that she’d be working day shifts that week, so he knew he’d find her there.
“Want me to wait?” Rosewood asked.
Decker considered cutting Billy Rosewood loose for good but thought better of it. He still might need him to show him around.
Decker gave Rosewood some money and said, “Come back after your dinner.”
Decker went into the hospital. As the front-desk nurse told him where Linda was working, he saw her waving to him from the end of the hall.
She rushed down the hall and took his arm.
“Where should we go for dinner?”
“That same restaurant. Where we first ate together.”
“I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”
“I didn’t, either.”
They walked to the small restaurant and were seated by a different waitress.
“Where’s Marcy?” Linda asked.
“You’re Linda?” the girl asked.
“Yes.”
“Marcy said to tell you that you might have switched shifts, but she couldn’t. She’s still working eight p.m. until four a.m.”
“Tell her I’m sorry for her,” Linda said, and the two women laughed together.
They ordered lunch, and then Linda leaned forward and said, “What did you do this morning?”
“I bearded a nest of vipers.”
“And?”
“And I got out without being bitten.”
“Is that unusual?”
“So I’m told.”
“How are you feeling?”
“A bit stiff.”
“Maybe you should come back with me and let me check your dressings.”
“No, they’re fine. I checked them this morning.”
“You’re just afraid that once we get you in there, we won’t let you out.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I’ve never liked doctors much, and these have been my first experiences with hospitals.”
“You’ve never been to a hospital before?”
“Just military field hospitals, but they’re quite different.”
“How?”
“Most of the people there are dead.”
The waitress came with their dinner, and they ate, engaging in small talk—tiptoeing around what they were both thinking about.
Over coffee, Linda decided to be more direct.
“Have you thought of giving this all up and leaving?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“That’s not my question.”
“What is?”
“You know what the question is. You’re just avoiding the answer.”
“No.
She paused as the waitress came over with their coffee.
“You’re very frustrating.”
“I know.”
“If you did leave…”
“What?”
“If you did leave…I’d be willing to go with you…if you asked.”
Decker didn’t reply.
“Not that I’m hinting, mind you,” she said, “but I just thought you might—” She stopped and looked at the ceiling. “I swore I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.”
“You haven’t.”
“Yes, I have.”
