Prologue

May, 1981 — Bayonne, New Jersey

Marty & Gloria

Gloria came home from work in tears. She had been laid off unexpectedly. She chucked her purse roughly on the table and kicked her shoes off before sitting down at the kitchen table. She began to sob. They needed the money she'd brought home. It wasn't much, but it helped pay some bills. Marty hadn't brought anything to the table for several months now, in fact, he'd used a great deal of their savings planning something that she knew was just a pipe dream. "A big score," he'd said.

'Huh, ' she thought, 'another score like the last one. Big shot! He'd almost gotten killed ... It was so stupid, him and Ray-Ray, robbing that jewelry store -- with its silent alarm they hadn't figured on.

"You're home early," a husky male voice said softly.

Gloria whirled around toward the voice. "Oh, Marty!"

He stood there bare to the waist and shoeless, his face marked with concern.

"What is it? What's the matter, Glow?"

"They ... they let me go," she stammered.

He came to her, placed his big hands on her frail shoulders. The tears came then, carving a trail for her mascara to follow down her cheeks.

As sad and upset as she was, Gloria still felt a twinge in her stomach at the sight of him without a shirt.

"Honest, Marty, I didn't fuck up. They said ... they said, they had to cut back and I had the least seniority."

Marty's hands massaged her back, trying to ease the tension and pain from what he knew had been a terrible experience.

Gloria felt her sorrow lifting and her desire growing under the skill of his wonderful hands. 'How does he do it?' she wondered. How does he manage to turn me on every time he touches me? No other guy ever managed it.

"Glow," he said, using his nickname for her, "I just showered. I gotta go and meet some guys. I'm real sorry you got laid off. But we'll be all right, you'll see. We're gonna be fine, and soon, baby, real soon."

"Do you gotta go?" Gloria said, hating herself for pleading with him to stay.

"Yeah, I gotta. But maybe I can help cheer you up before I go."

His words stirred the hair at the back of her neck, sent a tingle straight to her cunt.

"I can only stay a little while, Glow, you know? I mean, the guys are gonna be waiting..."

Marty's lips brushed her ear. She shuddered with anticipation, and reached between his legs.

"Now you're getting it," he said, and they both laughed lewdly.

Marty grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, and pushed her roughly against the refrigerator.

His hand closed on her chin, their eyes met, and each saw the heat in the others. Gloria pursed her lips; his mouth closed in on her lower lip.

She moaned.

He ran his tongue over both of hers, took her lower lip between his teeth, bit hard enough to draw blood and a loud moan from her.

"Sorry," he said.

"No, you're not. But do it again if you want," she groaned, shoving her pelvis into him.

He repeated the act, but failed to bite her lip again. He contented himself with sucking the blood and squeezing her left breast.

"You're a fuckin' vampire," she moaned when he released the lip to kiss her throat.

He felt her heart pulsing wildly under his lips.

"I vant your blood," he said, trying to imitate the old actor, Bela Lugosi.

She laughed, even though it was a terrible impersonation. She knew what was coming, felt herself growing wet between her legs. A second later, Marty tore her blouse open, popping the buttons all over the kitchen floor.

"You bastard! That was my best blouse!"

"Buy another," he said gruffly. "Tomorrow we'll be able to afford a new wardrobe."

Gloria was about to say something else, but his mouth closed over her nipple, tonguing the sensitive bud through the fabric of her bra, and she gave herself to the delectable thrill it caused.

Without another word, Marty slid the straps of the bra off her shoulders, reached into the cups of the bra and scooped out both breasts, captured one in his mouth and sucked it until it grew to its fullest. Gloria moaned contentedly, already having forgotten about getting laid off. For the moment all she cared about was the feel of his erection pressing into her belly, and the surety that she was about to get laid.

Then, with one muscular movement, Marty hoisted her up and sat her down on top of the refrigerator. A delighted Gloria slid around on it until one rounded corner fit into the cleft of her ass.

He stood there, hands cupping her ass, preventing her from falling helplessly to the floor, and began to lap at her as if she were an ice cream cone in danger of melting away. She raised a leg giving him better access to her body, only to jerk against him when several of his fingers dug into the cleft of her ass.

His tongue slipped between her labia, garnering a taste from deep within. She bucked against his mouth, crying out at how good it felt. He pressed harder, pinching her clit roughly for a second before stroking it in slow, light circles.

She grabbed the back of his head, writhed under him and held on for dear life.

"Look at you," he said, "soaking wet already."

He sent a finger into her.

She moaned. Her head lolled back, and she had to contain a primal scream from exploding from her throat as his mouth came down upon a rigid nipple at the same time he added another finger to the first.

Several moments passed. Gloria found her voice long enough to whimper, "Oh, yes," and with the mere crook of his finger he sent her reeling with sensations that throttled her body.

"Yes what?" Marty inquired.

She looked down at him, but couldn't make her voice work.

His hands ran up the backs of her calves, caressing the sensitive skin behind her knee.

A moment later he began licking her from the bottom of her sopping pussy to the top, where he sucked a full minute on her throbbing clit.

When she came, and that took several more seconds, he helped her slide off the refrigerator and slid his cock into her, waltzed her into the bedroom and dropped her on the bed. She wriggled underneath him, so close to climaxing that she was unable to lie still.

Still, she managed to grab his backside and pull him tight as she wrapped her legs around him so as to cradle his body with her own. His cock surged deep within until tapping against her cervix.

"Yessss," Marty hissed in satisfaction, and that put Gloria over the edge that she had been clinging too for several minutes.

"Yeah, come for me," he groaned, and lifted his head and watched her face as she shook violently with her orgasm.

"I love you," he murmured.

"Marty, for God's sake be careful. Don't let anything happen to you."

"I won't, you know me."

"Yeah, I do know you, Marty.

She wept for an hour after he left to join the others.

Jersey City, New Jersey

It was a four-man job. The rule of thumb for this type thing had always been the smaller the crew, the better.

The four men sat in the empty garage going over the details of the robbery for what seemed the ten-thousandth time. Marty Piatkowski and Ray-Ray Randino were sticklers for detail. They agreed that it had saved their respective asses more than once and had no problem examining each and every step again and again, until almost certain they had it right. Both men knew that there was always something that could go wrong. The repetition was to anticipate that possibility, to address it and to eliminate it. If elimination proved impossible, they looked for an alternative. They performed this ritual for each and every step of the operation.

Conrad Gentner, who had grown up with Marty, was bored by it all, and made no pretension of it. The fourth member, Johnny Boy Stampanato, was working with the others for the first time, having been recommended by another crony, Sammy Pardo.

Marty liked to live large, and he stole cars, hijacked trucks, robbed high-stakes poker games, and lifted payrolls to support his lifestyle. Whenever he was flush with cash, he hoovered up cocaine for breakfast and Maker's Mark for lunch. He was usually so jittery from dope and hung over from booze that he seldom bothered to eat.

Ray-Ray had always watched his back when he was like this, shepherding him back home safely, and had done so for years. But when Ray-Ray had lost his wife to breast cancer three months earlier, it had been Marty who forswore the coke and the booze to look after his friend in his time of need.

The Heist

Marty jumped out of the Chevy with a gun in one hand and the packet of explosives in the other. Conrad was out and running toward the backdoor, and Johnny Boy stayed hunched over the wheel, his foot racing the engine. The armored car lay on its side, its wheels still spinning, and smoke pouring out of its engine. Ray-Ray was at the front door of the armored car, trying the door handles without success.

Marty ran to the rear door of the armored car and had to shove Conrad away in order to slap the explosive against the metal near the lock so that the suction cup adhered. He pulled the cord and stepped back out of sight. Conrad, although highly agitated, had the presence of mind to join him. The explosion was short and flat, with a little puff of gray smoke that lifted into the air.

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