Crossing the Line

by J. R. Roberts

  Even after Clint showed his hand, George couldn’t believe it. “Sixes? You call me with a pair of sixes? What kind of damn fool play is that?”

  “Something tells me it’s a winning play. Care to prove me wrong?”

  “I ain’t got nothin’ to prove!”

  “Sure you do,” Clint said. “Prove you can beat a pair of sixes.”

  George didn’t show his cards, but he slapped them down with almost enough force to splinter the table. “You’re cheatin’.”

  “What did you say?”

  “How the hell did you know what I had?” Before anyone could answer that question, George twisted around in his seat and turned toward the smiling faro dealer. “It was that black son of a bitch, wasn’t it?”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s the same bastard that tried to cheat me at faro. Now he’s tryin’ to get back at me by helpin’ you cheat at poker!”

  Clint had to look around a few times before he could figure out what the hell George was talking about. Then, he picked out one black man seated next to the pretty dealer at the end of the faro table, where he handed out winnings and collected markers throughout the game.

  “What kind of bullshit are you talking about?” Jack asked.

  Nodding furiously, George stood up and reached for the gun at his hip. “I won’t be cheated by the same man twice, and I sure as hell won’t allow some black son of a bitch to make a fool out of me!”

  “Sit down and shut yer trap,” Jack said. “You’re makin’ a big enough fool outta yourself.”

  But Clint knew George wasn’t listening to any of that. The time for talk had passed. If Clint didn’t do something pretty damn quickly, the black man assisting the tall brunette wouldn’t have much time left to draw another breath.

  THREE

  George kicked his chair away and stalked toward the faro table. “You think you can cheat me, boy? Twice?” He had yet to draw his pistol, but his fingers were wrapped around its grip tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.

  The black man sitting at the faro table scooted away and looked around for the one who’d set George off. Quickly realizing he was the target for the other man’s angry stare, he squared his shoulders to George and extended his arms to either side. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Well, you signed up for plenty of trouble when you decided to swindle me outta my hard-earned money!” Suddenly, George was stopped by a hand that slapped down upon his shoulder.

  “He didn’t swindle you out of anything, George,” Clint said from directly behind the angry man.

  Struggling to break from Clint’s grasp, George grunted, “You’ll get yours soon enough.”

  “If you’re angry about how that hand turned out, then take it up with me.” Since he wasn’t taken up on that offer right away, Clint spun George around to face him. “Or are you too certain that I’ll clean your clock for making that accusation?”

  Now that he was looking Clint dead in the eyes, George picked him as his new target. “All right, then. You cheated me outta my money.”

  Clint kept a straight face, but had to work hard to keep it that way. Technically speaking, George had a point. Although George obviously didn’t know all the details, Clint had gotten what turned out to be an unfair advantage. He hadn’t asked for the hints from across the room, but he’d put them to use. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Then let’s chop the pot and forget the last hand even happened.”

  “That ain’t good enough.”

  “Chopping the pot means we get our money back. What the hell else do you want from me?”

  “How about some blood and a few teeth?”

  If George hadn’t been such a talker, he might have snuck in the first punch. As it was, he gave Clint more than enough warning before he took a swing at his jaw.

  Clint saw the punch coming and almost got out of its way. At the last second, he clenched his muscles and forced himself to take it on the chin. Even though he rolled with the punch a bit, he could still feel its impact rattle his back teeth. Rubbing at his jaw, he asked, “Happy now?”

  George looked happy, but in a way similar to a hungry dog that was happy to stumble upon some hapless prey. “Mister, I ain’t even started yet.”

  While Clint was willing to accept a few lumps to pay him back for the little bit of cheating he’d done, he wasn’t about to stand there and allow himself to get beaten to a pulp. An asshole like George would surely take full advantage of any situation where he could look like a big man. Fortunately for Clint, this asshole didn’t have nearly enough to put Clint down for good.

  The second punch was a short uppercut into Clint’s stomach. That one landed with a solid thump and was immediately followed by another. Clint turned and brought both arms in close to catch a piece of it. The rest of George’s fist was deflected to bounce against Clint’s ribs. Undeterred by that glancing blow, George took a wild swing that was intended to take Clint’s head off. Instead, Clint stepped away and to the side so George’s fist chopped through empty air. Even better than that, George’s momentum caused his arm to sail well past Clint’s head, leaving his upper body extended at an awkward angle.

  Unable to resist such a prime target, Clint delivered a straight right cross that cracked against George’s face and sent him staggering into another card table. When a few of the players at that game were knocked away from their seats, Clint thought the fight would spread like wildfire. Those other gamblers didn’t join the brawl, but one of them did hand George a half-empty bottle.

  “You wanna take the side of some cheatin’ darkie?” George snarled. “Then you’ll get beat like one!” When George tried to swing his bottle at Clint, he was stopped before his arm could move halfway through the motion.

  The black man who’d been sitting at the faro table had stepped forward to grab George’s arm. “You aren’t gonna beat anyone, George,” he said. “And I already told you before, nobody cheated you when you were at my table.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Now that George’s momentum had been broken, Clint was able to walk right up and grab the bottle from his hand. Rather than use it as any sort of weapon, he placed it upon another table. “You threw your tantrum,” Clint said. “Now let’s either get back to our game or part ways like men.”

  “I’ll part your damn scalp like a man,” George said.

  Clint stood his ground as if he didn’t have a care in the world. In fact, he used every sense he had to take in his surroundings. As far as he could tell, everyone who was close enough to do anything was standing back to enjoy the show.

  At first, Clint thought that George had actually come to his senses. Then, the red-faced gambler snapped his hand down toward the gun at his hip. Clint’s gun hand moved in a quick, fluid motion that pulled his modified Colt from its holster and pointed it at George. The move had been so fast that George reacted as if he’d just witnessed a miracle. His eyes grew even wider when the barkeep stomped forward with a sawed-off shotgun in his hands.

  “You boys don’t put those guns away, I’ll be forced to use mine,” the barkeep said. After Clint holstered his Colt, the barkeep added, “All the same, you men had better leave.”

  A flicker of fear drifted across George’s face as he pondered what could happen once both he and Clint were outside. Rather than let it grow into anything more, Clint raised his hands and said, “I’ll be on my way. I’m sure George would like to finish his game.”

  FOUR

  Clint walked away from Pace’s, knowing several sets of eyes were watching him go. He turned the first corner he could, just so his back wasn’t facing those particular windows. Even after he’d gone halfway down the next street, he knew he was being followed.

  It started as a bristling at the back of his neck. It was a cool night, but not enough to create the chill he felt making its way along his spine. After spending so many years being ambushed, tracked, and hunted by all manner of dangerous men, he knew that chill all too well. The fo
otsteps he heard upon the boardwalk behind him only sealed the deal.

  Passing a narrow alley so the next one was a fair distance from him, Clint stopped and turned around. Compared to what he’d been expecting, the person following him was a very pleasant surprise.

  “Oh,” the tall faro dealer said. “You startled me.”

  Clint took in the sight of her with a quick up-and-down glance. She looked a bit taller from this distance, but also looked a whole lot prettier. Her long black hair had been hastily tied back, and several strands were loose and in her face as the wind blew. She’d wrapped a light shawl around herself to keep her shoulders warm, but wasn’t holding it tightly enough to keep him from getting a good look at the generous amount of cleavage displayed by her low-cut dress. In the dim light of the moon and of the torches lining the street, her skin looked smooth and damn near flawless.

  “I’m really sorry about all of that,” she said.

  “Why?” Clint asked. “Did you make George into such a loud-mouthed asshole?”

  She laughed in a way that allowed a beautiful smile to cross her face. “No, but I did put you in an awkward position. I don’t know how many times I’ve told that man to keep his cards covered, but he never takes my advice.”

  “Let me guess. He said he didn’t want no advice from a woman.”

  “Actually, he kept trying to get me into bed. Every time I spoke a word to him, he took it as an invitation for him to get under my skirts.”

  Clint shook his head and chuckled. “That one’s a real piece of work.”

  “Yes, but we did sort of cheat him.”

  “I know. That’s why I gave back the money I won from the last couple of hands.”

  She blinked and cocked her head in disbelief. “You did?”

  “Yep. On my way out.”

  “Let me guess. He told you to go to hell.”

  “No,” Clint replied. “He tried to get twice as much out of me as I won during that whole game.”

  “He is a piece of work.”

  Both of them walked down the street. Since he could tell there wasn’t anyone else lurking about or dogging their trail, Clint allowed himself to relax. “So, your name’s Delilah?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Surely you don’t think a woman who looks like you could deal faro around so many men without being noticed.”

  “I thought most of their interest ended once they stared at me for a few hours,” she replied.

  “The men at my table knew more than that. Still,” he added, “we all did tend to watch you awfully close when we had the chance.”

  Smiling again, she told him, “That’s all right. Men tend to spend more time at my table when they’ve got a nice view. Also, I kind of enjoy it when some men like what they see.”

  The glint in her eye and the way she moved a bit closer to Clint made it clear that she wasn’t referring to any of the locals. Continuing along without acknowledging the way she brushed against him, Clint asked, “Who’s that man working your table with you?”

  “That’d be Carl. He keeps track of the cash and counts down the hands that are dealt. George doesn’t have much good to say about him either.”

  “He says Carl cheated him.”

  “George says that about everyone,” Delilah pointed out. “He only gets it right some of the times. In Carl’s case, he’s dead wrong. I don’t need the headaches that come along with having a cheat working at my table. The odds in faro are stacked in my favor well enough without that.”

  “George was ready to tear his head off,” Clint said. “There has to be something behind that.”

  Delilah shrugged and clasped her hands behind her back. That way, she could stroll beside Clint while also arching her back just enough for her chest to swell a bit more beneath her shawl. “Carl has to keep his head down in that place just because of his color. Most folks hardly seem to take notice of him since he’s so quiet, but men like George will take a swing at anyone he thinks won’t swing back.”

  Clint didn’t have any reason to doubt that. The wild look in George’s eyes was more than enough to back up her explanation. “I’d hate to think our little indiscretion would bring any harm to an innocent man. Do you think Carl might need someone watching his back?”

  “When I left, George was sitting in his chair, bragging about how he ran you out of there. Carl was in his seat and all was right with the world.” She glanced over at him and took a few minutes to study Clint in much the same way that he’d studied her earlier. “You could’ve kept George’s money, you know. God only knows how many poor souls he’s cheated over the years.”

  “Is that why you helped me with all those nods and scowls?”

  “He tried fixing my game a few times. Every time I caught him, he threw a bigger fit. Guess I saw the chance for some comeuppance and I took it.”

  “Next time, just be sure your accomplice knows what’s going on,” Clint told her.

  Suddenly, Delilah stepped in front of him and stopped Clint by placing a hand flat upon his chest. Staring directly into his eyes, she slowly moved her hand down along his stomach. “If you’ve got a warm bed nearby, I’d like to make it up to you.”

  “There now,” Clint replied with a grin. “All you had to do was ask.”

  FIVE

  While Clint and Delilah made it back to the room he was renting, they didn’t quite make it to the bed. As soon as he’d let her in, she began peeling away her clothes, one layer at a time. Her shawl was the first to go, followed by her dress and the slips under her skirts. That left her wearing a black corset, black lacy panties, and boots that were laced up to just above her knees. Delilah turned on the balls of her feet and stopped Clint once more with a well-placed hand.

  “You were watching me the whole time you were in Pace’s,” she said.

  Clint shrugged. “Not the whole time. I did need to glance at my cards every now and then.”

  She shook her head while slipping her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. “You were watching me. How else would you see my signals?”

  “Those weren’t hard to miss.”

  “Really? What about this one?” With that, she pulled her hand back and tore his shirt open. One of Clint’s buttons even popped loose and skittered across the floor.

  Taking hold of her hips and pulling her close, Clint said, “I believe I understood that signal just fine.” He then placed his lips upon her mouth and kissed her. It started off well enough, but the kiss gathered more heat with every second that passed. Before long, Delilah reached up to run her fingers through his hair while opening her lips to ease her tongue into his mouth.

  Clint could feel the warmth from her body as if he were standing next to an open flame. He eased his hands along her sides, tracing a line up to her shoulder blades and then back down to the trim curve of her firm backside. Delilah purred in the back of her throat as she felt his hands caress her. Clint could even feel her smile as she continued to kiss him.

  Without saying a word, she moved him back. All she needed to do was take a step forward to get Clint to take a step back. When he felt the backs of his legs knock against a chair, he dropped down onto the seat rather than kick it out of his way.

  Delilah tugged at the buckle of his gun belt, but Clint was the one to remove it and set it down. All the while, she busied herself by getting his jeans down, and then knelt on the floor between his legs. In a matter of seconds, Clint felt her lips close around the tip of his cock.

  “Jesus.” He sighed as she took every inch of him into her mouth. Clint placed his hands on the back of her head and had just enough time to catch his breath before her tongue went to work.

  As she lowered her head, she slid her tongue forward to lick the bottom of his shaft. Then, as she eased up again, she flicked her tongue to tease him every inch of the way. Clint could only handle a small bit of that before he pulled her head up and away from him.

  “You didn’t like that?” she asked, knowing perfectly w
ell how much he’d liked it.

  Rather than play along with her question, Clint motioned for her to stand up, and then slid her panties off. Pulling her toward him, he felt her hips wriggle as she spread her legs and climbed onto his lap. Delilah looked down at him and placed her hands upon his shoulders while Clint reached down to position his rigid cock between her thighs. The moment she felt it slip between the moist lips of her pussy, she lowered her self onto it.

  She let out a long sigh as Clint’s erection drove deeper into her. When she finally reached its base, she slowly shifted her hips until he was hitting the right spot inside of her. “Oh my,” she said. “That’s—”

  Gripping her hips a little tighter, Clint pushed himself up into her a little more. It was just enough of a surprise to snap Delilah’s eyes wide open and tighten her grip on his shoulders.

  “Oh my,” she groaned.

  She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck. Resting her head against his, Delilah rocked back and forth in time to Clint’s rhythm. The chair creaked beneath them, but it wasn’t supporting both of their weight. Delilah’s legs were long enough for her to keep her body at the proper height and angle for Clint to slide easily in and out of her.

  Just when he hit his stride, Clint felt her speed up. She cinched her arms around him a bit tighter and ground her hips in little circles every now and then. Soon, she was moaning softly in his ear and riding his cock until she climaxed. Before he could follow suit, Clint lost his grip on her completely.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as she stood up and backed away from the chair. Clint was about to get up and chase her when Delilah stopped, turned around, and then climbed onto his lap again.

  This time, she wasn’t facing him. Clint admired the smooth line of her back after she unlaced her corset and pulled it off. Now that she was naked except for her boots, she arched her back and tousled her hair as if to fully enjoy the feeling of cool air on her bare skin. Delilah’s long, wavy hair flowed all the way down to the uppermost curve of her buttocks. There was a pair of dimples there that brought an admiring grin to Clint’s face.