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They work better that way. You, Jimmy, I need you to be thinkin’ straight. They don’t have to think to do what they do. They wouldn’t be very good at it anyway.”
    McCall shrugged and started to lift the glass. Donovan put his big hand on the other man’s forearm, stopping him.
    â€œLook, I know you’re sorry you left your kids, and you feel guilty about it. I know you wanna see them again. You miss ’em. They’re probably cute little tykes. But look at it this way. When you do go back home, you’ll be taking a lot of money with you.”
    â€œAnd when will I be seein’ some of that money, Andy?” McCall asked. “Some of this money you told me I’d be makin’ if I joined you?”
    Donovan looked at Drake.
    â€œGo to the bar and tell those idiots to stop drinkin’,” he said.
    â€œBut you just said—”
    â€œI know what I said,” Donovan snapped. “Just go tell them to stop drinkin’ and start fuckin’. They won’t mind that so much.”
    â€œGotcha, boss.”
    Drake got up and walked over to the bar to join the other men.
    â€œJimmy,” Donovan said, “we’ll be splittin’ our profits soon. But why don’t you face it? If I had given you any before now, you probably would’ve drunk it all away.”
    McCall gave that a moment’s thought, figured Donovan was probably right. The big man removed his hand and McCall downed the whiskey.
    â€œWhy don’t you go to the cathouse and fuck for a while?” Donovan asked.
    McCall filled his glass gloomily.
    â€œOh wait,” Donovan said, “you’re still mournin’ your wife, right?”
    McCall drank. Reminding him of his dead wife was not the way to stop him from drinking.
    â€œJimmy, Jimmy . . .”
    â€œAndy, relax,” McCall said. “I’m the one member of this gang that you can count on and you know it.”
    â€œI do know it,” Donovan said. “That’s why I want you sober.”
    â€œWhy don’t you go and do some fuckin’?” McCall asked. “I’ll be goin’ to my room soon.”
    â€œYeah, you’re right,” Donovan said. “I could use some time in the sack with a woman. Maybe two.”
    He looked over at the bar. The men had obviously taken his suggestion, because they were all gone—including Ted Drake.
    â€œOkay, Jimmy,” he said, standing, “I’ll take you at your word. You’ll be sober and ready come mornin’.”
    â€œYou have my word, Andy.”
    Donovan slapped McCall on the back and left the saloon. McCall poured himself another drink.

TWELVE
    Clint slid his hard cock up into Amy’s wet pussy, virtually gliding home. She wrapped those powerful thighs around his waist and he proceeded to fuck her hard. They’d been gentle with each other long enough. Now was the time to just take what they wanted from each other.
    She matched his rhythm, lifting her hips each time he drove into her, so that the room filled not only with the smells of sex, but the sound of wet flesh slapping wet flesh.
    â€œOh, yes, come on,” she grunted, pulling on him, scratching his back, doing what she could to urge him on and on . . .
    Her breath began coming in hard gulps, and then suddenly he felt her body tense, and then spasm. She cried out and then he followed, bellowing out loud as he erupted inside her. He came in hard spurts, and when he thought he was done, she continued to milk him with her insides, until it was an exquisite combination of pleasure and pain . . .
    *   *   *
    Clint left Amy’s room while she was still dozing in bed. He thought he might return later, rather than sleep in his hotel room. She was quite a girl.
    He stopped in the nearest saloon, a small one called the Silver Spur, and had a leisurely beer at the bar. After a few moments a man entered and