“Okay. That’s okay. Try to tune in on him.”
“I can’t.”
“Who else is there?”
“The guys on the team. Hall. Shredder. Fromer.” As he said the name, a wave of cold swept over him.
“Cash, what?”
“He’s getting out of his seat. He’s coming toward me. He’s got a gun. No—”
“Who?”
“Fromer.” His heart was pounding now. And sweat stood out on his forehead. “Stay away from me, you bastard,” he shouted as he looked for a way to defend himself and spotted the gun on the table beside the bed.
