Indecent Intent

by Bethany Amber

  The game went on around the table, and on around Gabrielle. She had no idea what was occurring, having spent years building a wall against anything to do with gambling to try to protect herself from her husband’s obsession with it. Chips were thrown into the middle of the table. Some players sat inscrutably – some smoking, some drinking – and others were more animated, picking cards up and throwing cards down, cursing when they ditched their hand in disgust.

  ‘I’ll see you,’ she heard Verity say, the heavy smoke from his cigar drifting around his head.

  ‘A royal flush,’ Robbie said to the accompaniment of murmurs, and then reached across to gather the pile of chips from the middle of the table.

  ‘I said I’d see you,’ said Verity, looking dangerously calm. ‘Where are your cards?’

  Robbie turned his hand face up. ‘Ace, king, queen, jack and ten of hearts,’ he said. ‘Good enough for you?’

  With a flurry Gail dealt again, and Gabrielle froze as Verity said, ‘Where’s the girl who normally works this room?’

  ‘Sick, sir,’ came the prompt reply, and Gabrielle stared at the blonde with real admiration; far more than she felt for the three pathetic men who were ostensibly continuing their squabble by playing cards for her. And then she realised; Gail was there to help Robbie win, and she was clearly off to a good start. Gabrielle smiled with amusement, unnoticed by anyone else in the tense and smoky atmosphere of the room.

  Again Verity bet high, and quickly there were thousands of dollars thrown in a pile in the middle of the table. The game went on, and again it was Verity who challenged with another huge gamble.

  And again it was Verity who lost.

  Only this time he lost to Tom.

  ‘What the fuck is going on here?’ he swore uncharacteristically, as he watched the money being scooped in across the table.

  For the third time the cards were dealt, and Verity threw two cards away and gestured that he should be given two others.

  ‘Bad cards here,’ he remarked when the game came back round to him, pushing two more discards towards the dealer. He picked two fresh cards up and the game went on.

  Gabrielle’s mind drifted, and she wondered what on earth she was doing, standing there, a dumb exhibit for the men to play their stupid little game for…

  ‘My hand, I think,’ Verity’s voice drifted into her thoughts, and she watched with little interest as he laid his cards on the table, but he only had two kings and the pile of chips he claimed was only small.

  ‘Evening just ain’t going your way, Verity,’ Tom smirked.

  Verity bristled. ‘Is it going yours?’ he snapped, staring at the upstart from beneath lowered brows. The glare was threatening, challenging.

  ‘Yeah,’ chuckled Tom, the alcohol giving him courage, ‘it’s going just the way I planned. I’ve won me some bucks and before the night’s out I’m going to win my wife back.’

  ‘You are?’ Verity looked amused. ‘Well then, we shall have to start making things a little more interesting.’ He stared at each player in turn, his expression giving nothing away.

  ‘Now,’ he went on, ‘is there any possibility of continuing the game?’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Some hours later and the game was over. A couple of players had given up long before and were sitting on stools at the private bar; drinking with bitter, sour faces. Verity, Tom, Robbie, Gail, and a couple of others were still at the table; those with ties having loosened them, those with shirtsleeves having rolled them up, and those with hair having ruffled it with much stressful running of fingers through it.

  Marshall Verity sat back and surveyed the others, looking remarkably relaxed considering he had lost a great deal, much to the surprise of everyone except Gail.

  The game was over and she had helped Robbie and hurt Verity, for which she felt immense satisfaction. Robbie had won more money than he, or even she, had ever dreamed possible, and Verity was many thousands of dollars poorer than when the evening started. It had been a successful few hours for Gail and her friend.

  Verity’s stare finally settled on her, and his look told her that he knew she had been up to something, but was unable to prove what. She returned his stare, a slight smile on her lips, and she thought she detected just a little hint of admiration in his eyes.

  ‘Well, you now both have money…’ Verity said to Tom and Robbie, and then without taking his eyes off them, he reached back and put an arm around Gabrielle’s waist, pulling her close so that her thigh was tight to him as he sat, and gently rubbed her hip through her quality dress in a blatant gesture of ownership, ‘…considerable money.

  ‘So why don’t you both get out of my sight and crawl back to where you came from?’ His hand moved and he caressed her bottom, as though intentionally goading the two men. ‘Gabrielle stays here with me, and we’ll call it quits. How does that sound?’

  ‘Like hell!’ Tom snapped and jumped to his feet, his chair toppling backwards as the hired thugs lurking in the background took a precautionary step forward.

  Gail flinched and jumped to her feet too, and moved away, not wanting to be within the vicinity of the table if there was going to be any trouble – which looked highly likely.

  Verity held up his free hand, his Cuban cigar smoldering smoothly between his fingers, the silvery-blue smoke drifting and spiraling up towards the ceiling. ‘Now, now, Tom,’ he said calmly. ‘There’s no need for such aggression. Is Gabrielle really worth fighting over? And besides, you would not get to within one meter of me before one of my men made sure your neck was snapped. So why don’t you just do the wise thing, collect your winnings, and toddle along, hm?’

  Tom faltered, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides, clearly seething with anger and frustration, but he could not ignore Verity’s stark warning. The stakes were now as high as they could possibly get, and Tom was not prepared to take such a monumental gamble. He looked at Gabrielle, and shrugged.

  ‘You see, gentlemen,’ Verity went on smugly, looking with disdain from Tom to Robbie, ‘she’s not worth fighting over… and definitely not worth dying over. You have your money, so consider yourselves fortunate on this occasion, and go and enjoy the rest of your lives. I can find some use for Gabrielle in my household, I can assure you of that…’

  ‘But…’ Tom tried again, but his bravado had been easily shattered by Verity, ‘she’s my wife. She belongs to me…’

  ‘Did, belong to you,’ Verity corrected, stressing the past tense.

  There was a long silence. Tom stood with his shoulders hunched, and then reached down and started stuffing his pockets with his winnings.

  Verity drew on his cigar, and continued to casually maul Gabrielle’s bottom.

  Robbie stared at the green baize of the tabletop, looking lost and impotent, but then he took a deep breath and stood up. ‘No, hang on, wait,’ he said with a show of unconvincing defiance. ‘Gabrielle comes back to Key West with me—’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere with any of you,’ Gabrielle announced, and all eyes in the room turned and stared at her. She took a step away from Verity and shrugged off the loathsomely groping hand. ‘I’ve just about had enough of you,’ she said. ‘Of all of you. I don’t belong to anyone. None of you own me.’

  ‘Go for it, girl,’ Gail quietly encouraged her.

  ‘You are nothing more than a bunch of immature boys playing dangerous games, and I am not going to be a part of it any longer.’ She moved slowly around the table, her sparkling eyes flitting from one to the other in turn, her hackles up, and she gradually realised she was thoroughly enjoying the moment.

  ‘Tom,’ her legal husband looked up at the sound of his name, ‘I did love you once,’ she told him, ‘but not any more.’

  Tom took a resigned swig of his beer, but said nothing in reply.

  ‘And Robbie,’ the beach bum fiddled with a plastic chip
, ‘it was good fun for the short time it lasted, but no more than that. You shouldn’t have wasted your time coming all this way for me. But at least you have some money now.’

  And last but not least, Gabrielle looked at the man casually smoking his cigar. ‘And Marshall Verity…’ she said. ‘Well, I really have nothing more to say to you.’ There was, in truth, so much more she wanted to say; she wanted to scream at him and claw his face with her nails for a year’s worth of frustration, abuse, injustice and unhappiness… but she had wasted enough precious time with him, and she was not prepared to waste any more.

  She smiled calculatingly, picked up a handful of very valuable chips, and silently challenged anyone to stop her. Then she walked over to Gail, slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘Come on,’ she said to the speechless girl, ‘let’s get out of here and leave the boys to their games.’

  Tom and Robbie turned and watched in bemused silence as the girls walked towards the door.

  But Marshall Verity sat and clenched his cigar between his teeth, an enigmatic smile on his face. One of his thugs stepped across the door as the two girls neared it, but Verity nodded just once, lifted his hands together before his chest, and as the thug moved aside, even opened the door, and the two girls walked from the room, Gabrielle allowed herself a triumphant smile as she heard from over her shoulder, without looking back, the man who had owned her for a year start to clap.

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