Anonymous: Spouse Swap

Trish nodded. "I wonder what happened to the money?"

Gabe shrugged. "Who knows? Let's hope he only dropped it. If it's stashed somewhere, we're fucked."

"Like hell we are!" Trish exploded angrily. "I didn't come to this wild place to get shafted by a dead man. No way in hell is this kid going to let half of five hundred grand slip through her fingers!"

"I'm with you, but not tonight. We'll have to wait until morning before we can backtrack Hank."

A look of horror traced its pattern across her face. "What happens if we come up empty?"

"We play it smart by clearing out before the owner of this valley or someone else comes along and catches us.",.

"For good?"

"You know better than that, puss."

Trish frowned at him. "Sounds as though you have a plan."

Gabe managed a strained smile. "You might not go for it, but I have one."

"Lay it on me."

Gabe shook his head. "Not here. Let's go inside and talk about it."

"All right." She bobbled her head toward the dead man. "What about our boy?"

"Getting rid of him, is that what you mean? No problem. There's a boarded-up well behind the cabin. Hank won't mind if I drop his ass in there."

"I suppose not. Need a hand?"

"No. I can handle it. Why don't you go inside? There's no use in both of us freezing our naked asses."

Trish returned to the cabin and poured herself a generous slug of orange juice and vodka. It didn't help. Anger remained at Hank Lockridge for fucking up the detail by dying. She wondered what he had done with the sack of extortion money, and she was still wondering when Gabe entered the room and said, "Pour me one, too, and then we'll talk."

She reached for a paper cup and started pouring. "About what happens if we don't find the package in the morning?"

"That's right."

She handed him his drink, pursed her lips. "You think we won't find it, don't you?"

He downed the cup of vodka in a pair of loud gulps and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm damned near sure of it, puss."

A bewildered look came over her face. "I don't follow."

Gabe held out his paper cup for a refill. "Well, look at it from Hank's end of this mess. He piled f up and got hurt, but he probably didn't figure on dying."

She filled his cup. "So?"

Gabe plucked a cigarette from the pack that lay on the plank table and flamed it to life with another kitchen match before he answered. "So Hank made like a packrat with the bread to keep if from being found before he started crawling toward us for help. In his place, I'd have done the same thing. Wouldn't you?"

Trish thought it over, nodded. "Assuming that you're right, and I think you are, suppose we don't find the money tomorrow? When, then, chum?"

"Like I said before, we clear out."

"That's the part I don't dig, Gabe. Why do we have to bug off from here?"

"Because it's the cool thing to do." He treated her to a shit-eating grin. "Use your head for something besides an adding machine, puss; we can't afford to bring heat to this valley… or to ourselves."

Trish's breasts quaked as she exhaled loudly.

"How the hell can we prospect without doing either?"

The shitty smile remained on his lips. "By doing illegally."

Her face contorted in anger. "Make sense, damn it."

"That's what I'm trying to do, puss. The town of Lone Pine is ten miles east of here. It's the sort of clodhopper's paradise you hate with a purple passion, which is why I told Hank to keep you away from it when he brought you out to show you this valley, but that's where you're going to start the ball rolling if we don't come up with the loot tomorrow morning."

"And just how am I going to do that?"

Gabe took a deep drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke at her naked breasts. "By taking a job at a joint called the Atomic Club, as a stripper. I know the owner, so getting you booked will be easy. How long you stay there will depend on you… and Bruce Cord."

Trish blinked. "Who the hell is Bruce Cord?"

"The hayseed who owns this valley and the ranch at the other end of it. He's a regular at the Atomic on weekends."

"Keep talking."

Gabe smiled mirthlessly. "I did some checking on the Cord character after Hank picked this section of nowhere as our landing target. The shit-kicker is single and has a hang-up for whatever peeler happens to be doing her thing at Manny Black's place. With your youth, looks and curves, it shouldn't be too hard for you to end up with an invitation to share a bed at that barnyard swinger's ranch."

Trish locked glances with Gabe for a moment. Then she laughed suddenly. "You cold-hearted bastard. You'd put your own mother on the line to keep from losing a buck, wouldn't you?"

"You'd better believe it."

Trish stopped laughing. She did believe. Gabe was the type who would sell his own mother. Hell, maybe he already had. He sure as crap hadn't hesitated to peddle her back in New York. Gabe. Always using her. Sticking to her like a leech. Living off her body, blood… her very soul. How long now? Two years? No, closer to three. That long? Damn.

"All right," Trish said. "If we come up empty in the morning, I'll shoot my sexiest lick to make this Cord yahoo trip over his own cock." She paused, frowned. "But what about yourself, chum? I mean, surely you don't expect me to make like a whore and prospect at the same time, do you?"

Gabe shook his head. "I happen to know that Cord is looking for hired help. I'll take a job with him. All you'll have to do is keep the bastard distracted, and leave the prospecting to me."

"Can do." She glanced toward the cabin's only window. Faint traces of false dawn were beginning to show in the sky. Another sigh disturbed her bare breasts. "I hope it doesn't have to happen, but can do."

Gabe's eyes trailed hers to the dusty window. He was silent for a long moment. Then he downed his second drink and said, "We'd better get dressed and start cleaning out this dump. I'd hate like hell for someone to trot in here when we cut out and find our skydiving gear."

Trish nodded. "I'm with you. Where did you park your wheels?"

"Across the creek, but we aren't taking the gear with us."

"Why not? That stuff costs money."

"Sure, and if we hit a roadblock on the way to Lone Pine, it will cost us our asses. Nope, we get rid of it."

"Down the well?"

"Where else?"

Trish shrugged and crossed over to the wall bunk. A zipper bag rested on it. She unzipped the dark-blue bag that bore the legend, MUSTANG AIRLINES, on the side of it and removed a change of clothing. Scoop-neck sweater. Skirt. A black net half-bra with matching bikini panties, and knee-length boots with three-inch French heels. A smile curved her lips as she shook the panties out of their tiny wad and started covering herself.

Gabe watched her step into and tease the translucent black scanties over her pussy and commented. "The way you dress and undress, it's no damn wonder you never had trouble hustling a trick or finding work as a stripper. I'm starting to feel sorry for Bruce Cord already. The poor, loutish bastard doesn't stand a chance with you."

Trish strapped her bra into place and filled the half-cups with her full, pointed breasts before she nodded at his hardening cock and said, "Neither do you, chum, so you might as well let that damn stalk wilt." She saw his face tighten in the beginning of anger and added hastily, "However, if you want to risk fucking away five hundred thousand slices of bread, it won't take very long for me to drop my panties…"

Gabe glared at her for a moment. Then his face crumpled in a grin. He shook his head. "Keep them on, puss. No cunt is worth that much money. Not even yours."

They dressed hurriedly. Then they carried their skydiving equipment out back and dumped it in the well. By the time they finished this chore, it was full daylight.