Free Gabriel's Horn by Alex Archer

very carefully done, by the way.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I don’t think anyone else caught on.”
    “Yet you did.”
    “Truthfully, I think I’m better than anyone else in that room.”
    “Ah, I see.”
    “I don’t mean to take anything away from you. You’re a very good card player,” she said.
    “Again, you’re too kind.”
    “No. I’ve seen some of the best. That’s why I’m surprised I’ve not crossed paths with you before.”
    “I play a small game.”
    “By choice. You could be on television, playing in one of the tournaments that get broadcast.”
    Roux waved that away and took another puff off his cigar. He rounded his ash into a nearby ashtray. “I’ve no interest in that. Entirely too much attention.” And there was too much of an opportunity for too many people to see him and perhaps recognize him.
    “I can’t believe you’d be shy.”
    “Perhaps I just prefer a gentleman’s game among friends.”
    Ling Po shook her head. “After the way you ambushed and baited Connelly, I don’t think so. That wasn’t very gentlemanly.”
    “He isn’t—by any stretch of a generous imagination—anywhere close to being a gentleman.”
    “No, but I have to wonder what you’re all about.”
    “Then I’ll just say that I like being mysterious. I’ve found that women think that’s attractive.”
    “It is.”
    Roux turned to face the young woman. “So is your intent in meeting me merely to get a better sense of my game? Or do you have something else in mind?”
    Her stare returned his challenge full measure. “You honestly don’t care if I take you up on that or not, do you?”
    “I do,” Roux said, “but if you feel disinclined, I won’t be devastated.” That was true, but he seriously doubted she was going to walk away. She was much too competitive. She was going to have to find out if she was his equal at the poker table and elsewhere.
    Ling Po traced the back of Roux’s hand with her forefinger. “We do have time for dinner before the game resumes,” she said.
    “We do.”
    “I’ve got a big room. We could order in.”
    “That,” Roux said, “sounds absolutely delightful.” After crushing Connelly as he had, Roux found his appetite for other things had been whetted, as well.
    “Then you’ll come as my guest.”
    “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
    “Still robbing the cradle, I see,” a woman stated laconically. Her accent was South African, a mix of English and German with sharp edges.
    The voice came to Roux from the past. Pleasant memories and warnings accompanied the words. He turned to face the woman.
    “Jennifer,” he whispered. Dread, anticipation and wariness all spun a web within him.
    * * * *
    Jennifer bailey was a goddess of the night. When Roux first met her that thought had leapt into his head and never left. Her skin was flawless warm toffee, and her eyes were a brown that seemed to glow with an inner fire.
    Five feet eight inches tall with generous curves, she turned heads and silenced conversations every time she entered a room. Her hair was cut short and framed her beautiful face. She wore a scarlet dress that dipped low and was cut high, stopping just short of being tacky.
    As he gazed at her, Roux tried to remember how long it had been since he’d last seen her. At least ten years had passed. That meant she had to be in her early forties, but she did not look her age. Anyone who saw her would have guessed she was in her early thirties.
    Scarlet lipstick turned her frown florid.
    Ling Po bridled at once, obviously irritated that their conversation had been interrupted. Roux smiled at that, but when it came to class, Jennifer Bailey beat the younger woman hands down.
    “It’s good to see you again,” Roux said.
    “Is it?” Jennifer cocked her head to one side to regard him. “The last word I received from you was a note on a pillow telling me you had things to do. That was thirteen years ago.”
    “Thirteen. Really? A wretched number filled