“Sure….” Roxy spun the wheel at Twenty-third Street and headed the car up Kansas Avenue Bridge. “I know him all right He’s safe and they won’t look for us there.”
They shot across the bridge fast. Suddenly Myra leant forward violently and gripped Roxy’s shoulder. “Stop!… stop!… stop!” she screamed.
Roxy was so startled he nearly piled the car into a wall. He crammed on his brakes, throwing Dillon forward. “What the hell’s wrong?” he demanded.
Myra’s face was livid in the street light. “Quick… where did you get this car?” she gasped.
Roxy twisted and looked at Dillon. “She gone nuts?” he asked angrily. “Jeeze, I nearly crashed this heap.”
Dillon didn’t like the look on Myra’s face. He demanded harshly, “What is it?”
“Where did you get this car?” Myra repeated, pounding Roxy’s arm with her fist.
“Where the hell do you think I got it?” Roxy said surlily. “I knocked it off.”
Myra turned wildly to Dillon. “The fool’s finished us,” she shouted. “Can’t you see we’ve taken this heap over the State line!”
Dillon suddenly turned on Roxy, his fist clenched above his head. “You sonofabitch!” he snarled. “You’ve got the Feds on to us.”