Riverboat Blaze (4 page)

“What’s up?” Dillon asked, coming up alongside Chambers. “You look worried.”

“You sure we can carry everything we’ve contracted to carry, Dean?” Chambers asked. “I mean, look at that crate.” He pointed.

Dillon looked down at the crate, which was being swung on board.

“I looked that crate over myself,” he said. “The shipper is traveling with us. We’re takin’ it to St. Louis.”

“We’re goin’ that far?” Chambers asked.

“And farther,” Dillon said, with a nod. “We’re going all the way.”

“Minnesota?”

Dillon nodded.

Chambers banged his hand on the wooden railing, found no give in it.

“Is the rest of the boat really built this good?” he asked.

“Mike, are you doubting me? You’ve seen the plans for this boat.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chambers said. “Biggest boat on the Mississippi.”

“Biggest and best,” Dillon said. He slapped Chambers on his broad shoulders. “Don’t worry so much.”

“That’s my job,” Chambers said. “To worry.”

“I’m not worried, Mike,” Dillon said.

“I know,” Chambers said, “and the less you worry, the more I do. Like I said, that’s my job.”

“Okay, Mike,” Dillon said. “You keep doin’ your job. I’m gonna go down to the dock and greet the rest of my guests.”

Chambers looked at the dock and saw Troy Galvin with his girlfriend, Kathy.

“I don’t like that guy,” he said.

“We needed some gamblers, Mike,” Dillon said. “Kingdom was the only big name I could get, so I had to settle for Galvin.”

“Not crazy about Kingdom, either,” Chambers admitted.

This time Dillon slapped Chambers on the back.

“Take it easy, Mike. The gamblers ain’t what you should be worrying about.”

Dillon went down to the docks while Chambers remained where he was, watching the action.

Clint’s time with Angela was different from his time with Ava. Ava was a sexual predator, and he had been her prey. Though he had managed to turn the tables during their time together, the sex had been almost as much of a struggle as it had been a pleasure.

Angela was different. She was gentler, even though she was hurrying them along.

“No time for niceties,” she told him, pushing him down on the bed. She straddled him. “I want you to know I’m ready for anything.”

“Apparently,” he said.

She reached between them for his penis, held it in place, and settled down onto it with a sigh.

“Oh, God,” she said. “Mmmmm . . . we have to hurry this time, but next time—”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the feeling of him inside of her.

“Oh yes,” she almost whispered, “definitely a next time.” Then she opened her eyes and looked down at him. “Unless you don’t want to?”

He reached up and gently cupped her breasts, thumbing the pink nipples. She moaned.

“Oh, I want to . . .” he said.

 

Kingdom arrived on the dock before Dillon came down to greet Galvin.

“Kingdom,” Galvin said.

“Troy,” Kingdom said. “Miss.”

“You can call her by her name,” Galvin said.

“Kathy,” Kingdom said, wondering if that was a test.

“Is this being set up as you against me?” Galvin asked.

“That’s not my understanding,” Kingdom said.

“Might end up that way.”

“It’s not a tournament, Galvin,” Kingdom said. “My understanding is that we play against the passengers.”

“Still,” Galvin said, “you never know.”

Kingdom looked at Kathy. She smiled a sad smile and looked away. He thought she was probably very pretty when she wasn’t sad.

The positions didn’t change much in sex. Not when you had as much experience as Clint had. The only thing that changed was the women, and their attitudes, their approaches, and their experience.

Ava and Angela apparently had age and experience in common. And, in fact, they had both been aggressive in their approaches. The difference came in their execution.

Although Angela stated they had to hurry, her movements were slow and languid. The rush, he assumed, was in the fact that there wouldn’t be many more positions than just this one.

But she began to float away the longer they made love. Her eyes closed, her head thrown back, she arched her back, scratched his chest gently, and moaned when he touched her breasts and nipples with his hands or mouth.

The thing that jerked her back to reality was a loud noise from outside, probably a crate or something that was being loaded.

Her eyes flew open and she looked down at him.

“Welcome back,” he said.

“Shit,” she said, and increased the tempo of her hips.

 

Kingdom and Galvin were shown to their cabins on the second level. Kingdom was unpacking when there was a knock on his door. When he opened it and saw Kathy, he wasn’t that surprised.

“You’re not surprised,” she said.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Another time,” she said.

“What can I do for you, then?”

“You can beat him.”

“Who?”

“Troy,” she said. “You can beat him.”

“Well, I know that,” he said. “If we end up at the same table, the odds are good I’ll beat him.”

“No, I mean you
can
,” she said. “I can help you.”

“How?”

“He always likes me with him when he plays,” she said. “I can signal you, let you know when he has a weak hand or a strong hand, let you know when he’s bluffing or when he’s betting from strength. I know the game very well.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because I want to see him beaten,” she said. “I want to see him humbled.”

“Again I’ll ask, why?”

She looked both ways. There were other people being shown to their cabins, but she didn’t seem concerned about them. She was only worried about being seen by Galvin.

Unless, of course, Galvin had sent her.

“You don’t trust me,” she said. “You think he sent me?”

“I think it’s possible.”

She fidgeted.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t stand here forever.”

“Come inside.”

“I can’t,” she said. “Think about it. I’ll talk to you again when I can.”

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll think about it.”

She nodded, turned, and left in a hurry. He didn’t have time to ask her where Troy Galvin thought she was.

 

Angela grunted and moaned her way to her orgasm, then ground her hips down on Clint until he exploded inside of her. Then she hopped off and hurriedly began to dress.

“Okay,” she said, “so that can’t have been as good as a whole night with Ava, but I just wanted to declare myself.”

“You did a good job of it,” he said, watching with pleasure as she dressed. It was one of his great pleasures in life.

She sat on the bed and pulled on her boots, then looked over at him. He was lying on his back with his hands behind his neck. His penis had not lost all of its hardness. She reached out and stroked it with her right hand. It twitched, as if it had a mind of its own.

Sometimes it did, and he tried not to let that get him into trouble.

“I have to go,” she said.

“Come back anytime.”

“I will,” she said. “I just hope I don’t find Ava here.”

He shrugged.

“Do you play blackjack?” she asked.

“Not when I can play poker,” he said.

“I don’t understand poker.”

“Really? I’ll show you how to play someday.”

“Oh, no,” she said, “I know how to play the game, I just don’t understand the fascination with it.”

She stroked him one last time, then walked to the door and left. Clint decided he should get dressed before the boat got under way.

Clint was out on deck on the third level, watching the last of the passengers board and the gangway being pulled in.

“We’re almost ready to get under way,” Dillon said, coming up next to him. “Where’ve you been?”

“In my cabin.”

“All this time?”

“I had to unpack.”

“All this time?”

Clint looked at Dillon.

“I like my cabin.”

“That’s good to hear,” Dillon said.

“When is this celebration supposed to take place?” Clint asked.

“About a half hour after we disembark,” Dillon said. “In the main salon and outside on this deck.”

Disembark. Clint wasn’t sure Dillon had used that word correctly.

“Okay,” Clint said. “I’ll be there.”

“Unless you get . . . distracted again,” Dillon said, with a grin.

“You got something you want to ask me?” Clint said.

“I already asked, and you told me you were unpacking,” Dillon said. “I guess Ava was unpacking all that time, too.”

As Dillon walked away, Clint was satisfied that the man thought he’d been with Ava. He still wasn’t sure what Dillon’s relationship with Angela was. He was going to have to ask her.

 

As Kathy entered the cabin, Galvin said, “There you are.” He was standing in the center of the cabin, holding a drink.

“I just needed to get some air.”

“You have to unpack for us.”

“Okay.”

“I need my black suit,” he said.

“Which one?”

“Which one do you think?” he demanded. “The one I always wear on the first night.”

“Of course.”

“I can’t find it myself, Kathy,” he complained.

She knew that. He was helpless without her, not that he’d ever admit it. But she was growing tired of his dependence. The only way she knew to get out from under him was to make sure he was beaten, and humiliated. She felt Kingdom was the man for that job.

She hoped he was.

Kingdom had his own agenda.

Play poker.

Win money.

He didn’t want to get caught up in Kathy’s agenda. And even if he was to beat Galvin at the poker table, he wouldn’t want any help to do it.

Actually, Galvin wasn’t the one he was thinking about playing. That was Clint Adams. He hoped to get the Gunsmith to the poker table. Not for who he was, but for who he had played poker against. He knew Adams had sat across the table from the likes of Bat Masterson, Luke Short, and Ben Thompson, and held his own. Kingdom wanted to test himself against a man like that.

He knew champagne and food were being served on the third deck as a celebration. He put on a gray suit. He only wore black when he was playing.

He slid his .32 into his shoulder holster and left his cabin.

 

Clint strapped on his gun and put on his hat. Time for celebrating, but as he opened the door and stepped out he wondered if he had done the right thing even coming here.

He was sure Dillon just wanted his name, but Dillon had also been right. He had nothing better to do, and he hadn’t been in New Orleans in a while. He loved this city. The women, the food, the buildings. And then there was Ava . . .

It had been worth coming for the couple of days he’d spent in New Orleans. Now, as long as the weight of this crazy boat didn’t take it down, a trip up the Mississippi might be interesting.

He stepped out onto the deck and saw people standing around drinking champagne and eating sandwiches. When he entered the main salon, he saw a lot more than sandwiches laid out. There was quite a bit of New Orleans cuisine on the tables, with waiters walking around carrying trays of champagne in crystal glasses.

He approached the table, saw trays of jambalaya, shrimp, pots of gumbo.

“Impressive, huh?” Dillon asked. “All from our onboard kitchen.”

“Is it any good?”

“My cook is the best. I stole him from a restaurant on Bourbon Street.”

“Well, I’ll let you know what I think.”