Free Red River Showdown by J. R. Roberts Page A

alone, but some damn Chinese bitch was in there quiet as a church mouse. I meant to shut her up and some asshole walked in on me.”
    â€œIs this asshole dead?”
    â€œNo.”
    Solomon nodded and gathered up the cards so they could be shuffled. “Good.”
    â€œWhat the hell do you mean? He could be spreading the word right now, for all we know. He might just flap his lips in front of someone who knows me and then it’ll be twice as hard to get done what we came to do.”
    â€œDo you know who this person was?” Solomon asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnd does he know who you are?”
    Dench thought that over for a second before saying, “I don’t think so.”
    â€œThen there’s no problem. Even if word of your little scuffle gets back to the captain of this boat, all he’ll do is send some of the men that were hired to provide security for the gamblers to take a look in the laundry room. I’ve paid those men enough that they should overlook anything short of a bloodbath under the decks.” Fixing his eyes upon Dench, Solomon asked, “They won’t find a bloodbath, will they?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œFine. There’s no problem, then. We’ve got one more quick stop to make and then you can spill all the blood you want. Just try to stay out of sight until tomorrow.”
    â€œWhat if that asshole finds me?”
    â€œThen you’re not half as good as I think you are, and I’ll be better off without you.”
    Dench watched to see if Solomon was kidding. It was as useless as waiting for a corpse to sneeze.

EIGHTEEN
    Clint was sitting at a table with Mia to his left and a portly fellow with a thick red beard to his right. The man with the red beard was named Barry, and he sat with an empty chair on his other side. On the other side of that empty chair was a man in a white suit named Jones.
    Since the liquor had started flowing almost as soon as the boat had gotten moving, spirits were high in the large poker room. Women wearing long skirts and low-cut blouses strolled by every few minutes to refill drinks and give the gamblers something to look at when they were sitting out for a hand.
    Although Clint knew better than to indulge in too much beer so early in a game, he was enjoying himself even more than he’d anticipated. It seemed all the gamblers were pacing themselves, so the stakes were remaining fairly low and the games were all mostly friendly. He knew that would change once everyone had felt one another out, so Clint enjoyed the calm before the inevitable storm.
    â€œWhere’s the captain of this ship?” Barry asked.
    Being the most straight-faced one at the table, Jones was quick to reply, “Probably steering or making sure things are running smoothly.”
    â€œI just hope he’s not drinking along with the rest of these card cheats,” Clint added, keeping his tone more in line with Barry’s joking nature. “Otherwise it’s just a matter of time before we run aground.”
    Barry lifted his glass as well as his voice. “Here’s to the captain!”
    Surprisingly enough, those words were met with a round of applause as well as several other glasses raised at several other tables.
    Tipping back the large stein, Barry drained some of the beer inside as some more dribbled down his chin to be soaked up by his red beard. “He sure knows how to throw a party!”
    â€œIt’s your deal,” Jones said.
    Barry slammed his mug down and wiped his chin like a Viking after pillaging a small village. “Hand over them cards and let me show you how it’s done.”
    Jones slid the deck toward Barry and counted his chips for the tenth time in the last hour. He nodded and then looked around before letting his eyes settle back upon Mia.
    Since he’d already seen Jones go through his nervous rituals several times, Clint took a quick look toward the spot where the guards