The driver spun rapidly, his hand blurred as it came out of the raincoat pocket clutching a snub-nosed revolver. Ellen gasped as both Sylvia and Cash froze.

A second later, they all relaxed when Billy silently padded into the room followed by the dog. His hooded eyes took in Ellen first and, although he didn't speak to her, she sensed a surprisingly quiet gentleness in his movements which made her feel slightly more at ease.

His hand dropped to Rex's ears and he scratched the dog affectionately as he nodded toward the man who had been driving the car.

It was then that Sylvia, tall, dark-haired, and sensual-looking in spite of the fact that she was probably still a teenager, stood up with a look of obvious displeasure on her face. "Whatsa matter, Billy, don't you have any kisses for me, or have ya been saving them up for your Goddamn dog," she asked coarsely. When he didn't answer immediately, her eyes narrowed nastily, "Or maybe you been up so long that you've gotten used to those penitentiary fairies I hear so much about. Or maybe it's this blonde bitch here," she said, tossing her head contemptuously toward Ellen.

"Shut up, Sylvia," he said ominously.

"Don't tell me to shut up…" she began and her words were cut short in the middle of the sentence when Billy took two fast steps forward and viciously slapped her face; the force of the blow caused the girl to topple sideways and fall onto the mattress.

"Who is she," Sylvia spat out like an angry cat.

"That ain't none of your business." His attitude softened unexpectedly. "Besides, we wanted a little something to keep us company while we waited for you guys to show. We just might need her if things get tight with the fuzz."

Sylvia stood, obviously emboldened again by his softened tone of voice. She looked at the gang leader, then glared at Ellen across the length of the room.