Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 17

Instead he passed Sally a signal to meet him in twenty minutes at a pre-arranged place, a dingy bar down the street. The signal was combing his hair, then he left the casino to wait for her, having two more stiff ones while he waited. He explained the situation to his wife in a low urgent voice. She was strangely silent as she listened, but her eyes were filled with hate.

And she knew, cursing herself silently, that she’d triggered the whole chaotic mess just to shove it up the blonde’s ass on the phone. She hadn’t thought Carol had the guts to do something like this, come all the way to Reno and confront him. She’d underestimated the farmer’s daughter — very badly.

“Okay,” Sally said when he’d finished. “If it’s fucked, it’s fucked. I’ll get a taxi and move to another motel room. Now you listen to me,” she leaned forward, her eyes burning insanely, “and don’t say a word. If the cute idea of double-crossing me flashes in your dim mind, if you think you’re gonna take off with a hundred grand and that cornfed bitch, I’ll get you, Jack. I’ll go to Lane and confess everything, and no matter where you are, I don’t care if you’re on the fucking moon with her, they’ll find you. You know they’ll find you, Jack, because when they start hunting a thief they never stop — never.”

The ice cubes in his drink rattled furiously as he brought it to his lips. She’d do it too. She wouldn’t care what happened to herself, she’d do it, driven by searing vengeance.

“Hey, listen,” he said quickly, putting a hand on her leg, “I wouldn’t do that to you, baby. The minute we’ve got the whole bundle I’ll leave her juicy ass like greased lightning. We’ll be in Mexico a few hours later, rich — on Easy Street.”

Sally got off her stool and finished her drink. Her eyes watched him, filled with cold venom. “Oh one more thing, darling. Just because you’re rolling around in the sack with blue-eyes doesn’t mean you’re going to neglect your wife. Oh, no, no, no. You’re going to fulfill your husbandly duties as usual. You’ll come by my motel room every morning. And you’ll fuck me, long, loving hot strokes, just like usual. You’ll fuck like your life depends on it, honey.”

She smiled so viciously, chills raced up his spine.

“Because,” she added with a sweet chuckle, “it really does, doesn’t it? See you.”

She stalked out of the bar. Frantically, Jack summoned the bartender and ordered a triple.

The bartender shook his head in admiration. The brunette had been stacked like a living dream. “Women troubles, huh, buddy?”

Jack waved his hand. “Ah shit, nothing. Nothing I can’t handle, believe me. Just get me a drink quick, huh?”

Nothing he couldn’t handle, no sir. He was ripping off a casino for a hundred thousand, his life hanging in the balance if he got caught, his wife was threatening to double-cross him if he tried to double-cross her, his girlfriend was threatening to turn him in if he tried to double-cross her, he had to fuck his guts out every night and every morning to keep them both happy, and through all this, Lane’s eyes constantly watched him — cold, grim, probing like radar beams.

Nothing he couldn’t handle. He gulped at his drink urgently, and heard a high piercing sound and looked toward the door. It sounded like a distant siren.

Then he realized it was his own nerves screaming at him relentlessly, and he headed back toward the casino, everything unreal in the fading sunlight. Someone thrust something into his hand as he walked and he stared at it, numb. It was a religious tract.

THERE IS STILL TIME TO BE SAVED! It shouted I at him.

He tossed it into the gutter, trying desperately to believe it.