Dead Stay Dumb by James Hadley Chase

was wide open, but no air came to him. He was feeling hot and uneasy, lying there. He knew he couldn't sleep. His mind dwelt on Dillon. He thought of the hundred dollars, and he sweated with fury. When Dillon had gone into his room, Myra had disappeared into hers. She hadn't said a word to Gurney.
     Sitting up impatiently, Gurney glanced at the battered clock on the mantelshelf. It was just after one. He sat up and swung his legs to the ground. His mind, restless and frustrated, made his body uneasy. He wanted Myra. He wanted her so badly that it made him feel weak. There she was just across the room, behind that door. He had only to go in there and take her. He knew he could force her. Maybe she would fight, but he'd have her in the end. Then he lay back on his elbow, savagely gnawing at his lip. He knew he hadn't the nerve to go in there and start anything. She was too well guarded by herself. She was too strong for him.
     He sat up again, his eyes wide. Her door was opening quietly. He felt his heart hammering against his ribs, and he began to breathe unsteadily. He could see the flicker of the candle behind her, making her shadow dance before her. She raised her hand and beckoned him. He slid across the room quickly, without a sound. She took his arm and pulled him into the room and shut the door.
     He was surprised and disappointed to see that she was still dressed. Her white face, and her eyes, hard and bright like glass, frightened him. He put his back to the door and stared at her.
     “What is it?” he said, keeping his voice down.
     “Don't you know?” she said. “We ain't taking any more from that lousy heel. He's gotta go.”
     Gurney stared at her, his mouth going dry. “But how?” he whispered.
     “You gotta get into that room an' knock him off,” she said.
     Gurney recoiled. “You're nuts,” he said. “That guy's got three guns in there.”
     Her face was close to his. “He's got a lot of dough in there as well. We gotta do it, Nick, can't you see? We won't get anywhere unless we do.”
     Gurney walked round her and sat on the bed. “I tell you it can't be done,” he said, slamming his fist down on his knee. “What you thinking about? I tell you that guy's got three rods, and he'll just fall over himself to put some slugs into both of us.”
     Myra came over to him and sat close. She put her arms round his neck. He could feel the warmth of her body pressing against him. He could feel the curve of her breast against his arm. He turned, dragging her over his knees, gripping her tight, his blood singing in his ears. She let him kiss her, then she broke away from him and stood up.
     He sat there, shaken with desire for her. He said fiercely, “I gotta have you, Myra.” He reached out for her. “I can't wait... damn you... I gotta have you.”
     Myra's voice came like a cold douche. “Get a grip on yourself, Nick... Dillon first... you'll never have me if you don't get that bastard... and you've got to get him now.”
     Gurney got to his feet. He leant forward. “Do you mean it?” he said, his voice harsh.
     She stood there looking at him. “I mean it all right,” she said.
     “What've I gotta do?” He relied on her.
     Myra moved round the room, thinking. Gurney could only watch her. His brain refused to work. He had only eyes for her, raking her from head to foot.
     She said at last, “We mustn't slip up on this, Nick.”
     Gurney didn't say anything.
     “Give him a chance, an' he'll finish both of us.” She moved to the door. “Wait, I'll be right back.”
     Gurney wiped his sweating palms on the sheet.
     She came back into the room again. He caught the flash of steel. “What've you got there?” he said, his voice just a croak. She showed him. The short blade of the knife flashed in the candlelight. He looked at