He put his hand inside her thigh, and she snuggled down a little
against him.
“Do that, myself,” he said.
“I know.”
Two gulls rose outside their window, effortlessly riding the air
currents. They never seemed cold in the winter, nor hot in the summer; they were just always there, circling, soaring, looking for food.
“It might be fun to kill him,” he said.
“The cop?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that asking for trouble?”
“Isn’t that what we do,” he
said. “Ask for trouble? Would it be
as thrilling doing what we do, if there were no risk of getting caught.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she
said. “I never thought of it that
way.”
“Would you have fun playing baseball if you knew you couldn’t
lose?” he said.
“I never played baseball,” she said.
“Or gambling.” He was very intense.
“The possibility of losing
is what gives it juice.”
“It would be something,” she said,
“afterwards.”
“It would,” he said, “be the
fuck of our lives.”
“Oh my,” she said.
“We should think about it,” he said.
“Yes. Even if we decide to do it, though, we shouldn’t do it
yet.”
“Let’s see how close he can get without catching us,” he
said.
“And then if we kill him,” she said,
“it will be in the nick of
time.”
She smiled up at him.
“What kind of fuck would that be?” she said.
45
Together again, Jesse thought, as he looked at Candace
Pennington sitting across his conference table from Bo Marino.
Chuck Pennington was there with Candace, and Joe Marino was with Bo.
“He threatened Candace,” Chuck Pennington said quietly. “He told
her if she testified against him he’d kill her, and if he had to
he’d kill Feeney too.”
“The hell he did,” Joe Marino said.
“He told her anything it was
she should stop lying about him.”
“Anyone else hear the threat, Candace?”
Jesse
said.
“No, but he said it.”
