Mad Dog Justice Read Online Free PDF Page A

breathing is rapid and shallow. He moves back very, very slowly. On watery legs, he turns and treads slowly down the ramp, heading back to level three. His heart beats an insane tattoo in his chest.
    On the downhill ramp of level three, Roddy glances to his right through the angled space between concrete support pillars.There’s the undercarriage of the Navigator. At the far side, he sees the guy standing behind it from his right knee down. The man’s left foot is still propped on the Navigator’s rear bumper.
    Crouching, Roddy slinks to level three. At the elevator, he presses the “Down” button.
    Waiting, he hears the sudden hum from inside the shaft. The elevator is slow; it seems to take forever to get to level three. Maybe he should make a quick retreat on foot and get back to the lobby. Just then, the elevator doors slide open. He steps in and presses “Lobby.” The doors close. The fluorescent-lit compartment descends. Despite the garage’s chilled air, Roddy is soaked in sweat. His armpits are drenched and his shirt sticks to his back.
    He’s deposited on the ground floor and walks quickly down the corridor to the hospital lobby. The place is busy as nurses, aides, doctors, and porters traverse the expanse. A few visitors stop at the reception desk asking for directions.
    Roddy heads for the Emergency Department as thoughts of Russian mobsters blitz through his mind. It’s a rush of images from McLaughlin’s: barrel-chested goons with thick, heavily tattooed necks and Slavic accents, sipping vodka, chomping prime steaks as Kenny Egan rushed from table to table, whispering God-knows-what into their ears. There were also the mafia types from Brooklyn and Jersey. The whole mobbed-up, gangster-loaded scene had made him want to puke when he, Tracy, Danny, and Angela had gone there for dinner. And being in business with Kenny meant, ultimately, he and Danny were in bed with the mob. And now this: either Russian honchos or mafia mobsters invading their lives.
    John M. Grange and Associates was what the bastard’s card had said.
    And just who are Grange’s associates?
    Maybe it’s best to notify hospital security, tell them a couple of creepy-looking guys are hanging around the garage. Is hejumping to conclusions? They could just be two guys waiting for a visitor to come back from a ward. Why go into a panic?
    In a nearby corridor, Roddy grabs the cell phone from his coat pocket. His thoughts jumble. He’s not sure if he wants to call the hospital operator and ask for security or if he’ll call Tracy and have her come to pick him up. His hand shakes violently. The phone nearly slips from his grasp. He clutches it tightly and realizes he can’t really dial any number.
    Right there, with the phone in his hand, the device trills its marimba sound. It’s Tracy, the readout says.
    Tracy … home … the kids. Is it all over now? Is the life I’ve been leading about to disappear?
    Fumbling with the phone, he nearly drops it. He finally presses the button. “Honey, I’m at the hospital. What’s up?”
    “Oh, Roddy. I just called because … I don’t know … I’m nervous.”
    “About what?”
    Christ, my voice is warbling. And I feel like I’m gonna puke
.
    “I can’t stop thinking about Danny. Will he be okay?”
    “Absolutely, honey. I called Ketchman today. He said Danny’s doing fine … better than he expected. He’s awake and alert.” He wonders if Tracy hears how shaky he sounds. His voice—the great betrayer—sounds an octave higher in his ears.
    “Roddy, you sound upset.”
    “Of course I am. After what happened to Danny, how could I not be?”
    “You’re sure he’ll be all right?”
    “Ketchman says he’ll be out of the hospital in a few days.”
    “And you?”
    “It’s just that … I don’t know, Trace. I’ve had a long day and I feel lousy. On top of that, my car won’t start. Can you pick me up? I’ll be at the ER entrance.”
    “I’ll be right over.” She pauses and