Roy leaned back against the chaise, his usual spot, counting the creds he won. He thanked Sandy for the ale and the appetizer she brought, a post Faro treat to himself. As he sipped his drink, he looked for Cherry, but was disappointed to see that she was nowhere in sight. More importantly, where'd that girl Cora run off to? He knew she was working, but he should still see her now and again.

She had fire in her. That's what drew Roy to her like a winged critter drawn to open flame. That, and her gorgeous good looks. There were few that even came close to her natural beauty, even with all the frills and makeup layered on top.

He finished his appetizer, licking his fingers clean, sipped his drink dry, and still he had seen no sight of the beautiful doll anywhere.

The next time Sandy strode by, he caught her elbow. "Sandy, darling. Cora's still here right?"

Sandy giggled. "Yes."

She appeared to find his confusion amusing. Roy's grip on her arm tightened, wiping the airheaded smile right off Sandy's face.

"What's so funny?"

Sandy pulled away from his grip, the faintest hint of a smile touching the corners of her mouth. "I think you may have some competition for Miss Coraline's affections."

"Oh is that so? Did some handsome man prance in here and sweep her off her feet to some romantic location?"

"She just stepped out to talk to him down in the garage. I thought he was handsome. Cora didn't seem to think so. But he seems nice. Must be awfully shy to need to speak to her in private. We're all grown men and women here. We all know what attracts us to each other."

"Who is he?"

"Your friend, from the Faro game."

Roy scowled. Sandy could be so daft. "Which one?"

She described his new acquaintance, Edgar.

Why did Ed need to talk to Cora alone? Come to think of it, Ed hadn't been in the last few rounds. That bothered him. Roy assumed he was relieving himself in the restroom. He clenched his fist, lips pointing up to touch the bottom of his nose. Odd. The whole thing was odd. Perhaps the man was a creep and wanted to lure her to an obscure location to have his way with her. New Oklahoma had it's fair share of dopers and degenerates.

Roy rose from the table, shoulders and back tensing, patting his breast coat pocket to make sure his revolver was there, then running his palm over the bump under his button up shirt, the medallion of power.

"If you would show me the quickest way out back, my dear Sandy. I believe our Miss Coraline is in trouble."

Surprise and then fear splayed across her face. She hiked up her dress skirts and escorted him through the back out to the garage. They rode the lift down a level, crossing paths with two tipsy valet workers, neither of whom were getting much work done, oblivious to anything going on in the garage.

Sandy made to follow him off the lift, but he held up a hand. "Thank you, Sandy. I'll take it from here. This could get messy, but I'll make sure our friend is safe. Besides, I wouldn't want Beth to be mad at you on account of me."

Sandy, the simpleton, nodded, confused, but obeyed, not one to argue. She was the kind of woman Roy loved and loathed all at the same time; a docile sheep that needed a firm shepherd to tell her how to behave.

He decided to walk through the rows of hovercraft, staying out of the line of sight while wading through a field of mechanical transportation.

Aside from the knuckleheads in charge of parking the craft guffawing at their own crass jokes, Roy heard no one else. Sandy. That complete fool. She'd misunderstood the entire situation. Coraline might not even be on this level of the garage. He turned to get back onto the lift when a hushed conversation reached his ears. With great caution he moved close enough to decipher the words.

Roy had stumbled upon his sweet Cora. And wouldn't you know, she was talking about him with another man. From his angle, Roy could not get a look at the man to confirm it was Edgar, not without exposing that he was a part of the conversation. He palmed his gun, ready to splatter this man if need be.

It seemed that Cora wrestled with trusting the man she spoke with, but her apprehension was waning.

The man did not sound like Edgar. The accent was different. The voice of a younger. American Terran.

Several times Roy fought the urge to rise up and waste both of them. But he listened long enough to realize that Cora spoke to Trace the Ace, a man known for little besides his strict enforcement of the law and having the smoothest draw that anyone ever witnessed. So Roy satisfied himself with the knowledge that his greatest weapon was his access to this very candid conversation.

He listened to it all, and pondered everything he heard well after they were done.

So Trace the Ace was going to use Cora against him? Huh. Who knew the Ace was so shrewd? Well, not shrewd enough. Roy would show him the error of his ways. And he'd make a lesson out of Cora.

A wall of flame raged inside of him at the thought of her betrayal. Why did it have to be sweet, beautiful, perfect Cora? Right when things between him and her were getting good. He ran his hands through his hair, clenching fistfuls of it when he reached the end. The shakes made Roy's whole body tremble. His bundled wrath was so strong, he could kill somebody. Needed to kill somebody.

He couldn't kill Cora. That would teach her nothing.

But her son?

A grin spread across Roy's face. He remembered the growl in her voice when Tracy brought up her son. She'd turned wild in a moment.

Yes, her son was the key to teaching her a lesson.

Tingles jumped in Roy's stomach. This was better. It was actually an opportunity to draw her closer to him, and make her more submissive. Once he broke her she would be his to reshape and control. And to have. He giggled at the thought.

His giggles grew to laughter. The sensation overwhelmed him, taking a hold of his whole being. He had to let it out. Forming fists, he smashed them into the fender of the nearest hovercoach. He bashed the sides, denting it, then climbed atop it and smashed in the windows. Shattered glass rained everywhere. All the while Roy's laughter echoed through the concrete garage, melding with the alarm of the hovercoach.

By the time the two valet boys responded to the alarm and the sounds of shattering glass, Roy was too far gone.

When the laughter subsided, two crumpled valet corpses lay in a heap at Roy's feet. He dragged their bodies between the rows of cars. Blood stained his split hands, but none of it had gotten on his suit. He wiped his hands clean on the clothes of the dead men, then straightened his blazer and left.

Every step now would have to be carefully timed, directed in such a way that he thwarted Tracy's plans without the lawman realizing it. Until it was too late.