“I’ve been out of this game too long,” he said, speaking very slowly, choosing his words. “I gotta get an in before I get goin’.”
Myra put her hand on his sleeve. “You’re goin’ to be the biggest shot of them all.” There was a soft yielding tone in her voice.
Dillon curled his lip. “Yeah?” he said. “Who says?”
Her face, no longer the face of an adult child, was hard with determination to the point of ruthlessness. “I say so. You’re goin’ to show all these little mobsters just where they get off. You’re gonna think an’ act big. No one must get in your way… you understand that? No one must get in your way.” She spoke slowly, emphasizing every word.
Dillon reached out and gripped her arms. His steel-like fingers bit into her muscles and she suddenly went weak inside for him. “You got it right the first time,” he said. “And you’re trailin’ along right behind me.” He paused, then went on, “Thought of the cops?”
She laughed at him. “What did Nelson do with the cops? He’d enough dough to straighten things. Didn’t he get protection? Okay, that’s what you’re goin’ to get.”
Dillon shook his head wisely. “Sure he got protection—an’ look at him now. They dug twenty-four slugs outta that guy when they put him on the slab.”
“G-men,” Myra said tersely. “You ain’t got any worry. You keep clear of the G-men an’ you’ll be okay.”
Yeah I’ll keep clear of the G-men.” There was a hard note of menace in his voice.
A knock sounded on the door. They stiffened, then Dillon said crossly, “Relax, can’t you?” He went over to the door and jerked it open.