Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 23

One screeched to a halt beside him. Jack saw them as he was getting in the cab, cold-faced mother-fuckers, big, expressions like zombies, real muscle-goons like the kind that had put him in the hospital. They were only a few yards away, still moving toward his taxi, SHIT!

“Move out!” he screamed at the driver. “MOVE OUT NOW, YOU ASSHOLE, GO, GO, GO!”

The driver gaped at him, then got the idea. The cab screeched out and Jack peered back at the two goons now jumping up and down to hail another taxi. Shit! One pulled up to the curb!

“Turn right here,” Jack snapped. He waited until the cab turned then leaned forward and spoke fast. “Listen… there’s a hundred bucks in it for you if you lose that cab behind us…”

“There’s no cab behind us.”

“SHUTUP! Move this fucker, run lights, I don’t care what you do, go through fifty side streets, but KEEP MOVING! I’ll tell you when to stop. Go!”

He tossed a hundred-dollar bill at the driver to reinforce his instructions, and the driver hauled ass then, careening around side streets, avoiding the heavy traffic expertly. Jack could have sworn no one was following, but still…

“Stop here, thanks, bye,” he was out of the taxi before it stopped. Moving very swiftly, Jack went in the front door of a casino, didn’t look back once, went out the rear door, walked quickly down the street, searching desperately up and down for another cab, saw a yellow coming down the street, waved at it frantically, thought holy shit suppose they’re in it. He was on the verge of running for his life when he saw it was empty. He got in and told the driver to take him to Sally’s motel. He leaned back in the seat, sweat gushing from his pores in a shroud, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer.

He’d made it.

By now, Lane would be in a fury, he’d have spotted the marks for sure if they used the infra-red. “Fuck you, you ice-blooded prick,” he muttered aloud. He was home free. HOME FREE. Oh, Easy Street, here Jack comes.

As quickly as he could, he explained the situation to Sally. “Best thing we can do is get the fuck out of town like our asses are on fire. Now listen, hon…” He stuffed his pockets with her take as he talked, until he bulged.

“I’m going back to give Carol a cock-and-bull — cock-and-pussy? — Story to stall her, then I’m coming back here with the bread. I won’t be more than thirty minutes.”

“Then leave my part of the take here,” she said sharply.

He waved his hand. “Piss on that, just trust me, will you? I want it all with me, it was my plan, my caper, my sweat. Just wait for me.”

The words sounded funny to him, dreamy with echoes. Wait for me? That’s what he’d told Carol in Omaha. Sally flung her arms around him and kissed him passionately.

“Listen, bastard,” she hissed, “I trust you. You and I stick together no matter what. Always, through shit and paradise. Never forget that, Jack.”

“You’re making my heart bleed,” he said but he kissed her fervently. He couldn’t cross her and they both knew it.