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A historical romance about Lindsey and Ashton |
| THE LAST KISS by HAVEN RICH Prologue The smoke was starting to clear from the room, now that the evening was coming to an end. The bartender was wiping the dirt away from the busy crowd that slowly dwindled as the hour grew late, getting things ready for the next night. Everyone had left except for two men playing cards over in the back corner of the room. They had been quiet and kept to themselves for most of the night, good costumers he thought. Shuffling the deck of worn cards a final time, the dealer then set them on the table for the other player to cut. Watching as the other man cut the cards the dealer could tell this would be the last game of the night. Once a group of four men that had now dwindled to a pair. The others had been smart and given up before they lost everything. Handing the cards back to the dealer the man on the other side took yet another drink of whiskey and slammed the glass on the table. Then waved for the bartender to bring another round, as he sat waiting. Hoping to close soon the bartender decided to take over another round anyhow. This group of men had always done right by the barkeep, tipping well and never causing any troubles. Putting the drinks down, he just stood and watched the men play, not wanting to go back to his work just yet. Setting up the next and final game, the dealer laid out five cards for each of them. The barkeep saw the look in the eyes of the men, and changed his mind about waiting around, he could tell this would be it for the evening. Picking up the cards, the dealer glared at his opponent, looking for some sort of sign. Seeing that his own hand was not what he had hoped for, he placed his opening bid and then tossed the two unwanted cards. Waiting to see what the drunk man was planning to do. If he was wise, he would take his leave. Instead he placed his own bid and threw down three cards. He had almost begged to play this game, but he knew in truth he stood no chance, he should have gone home and sulked at his losses of the evening. He dealt out the cards the other player needed, while keeping his eyes fixed on his opponent. Cocky in his hand, the dealer raised his bid, and the drunk matched it. Seeing that the intoxicated man was not going to back down the dealer raised his bid even higher, in hopes of him folding under pressure. In turn the alcohol won out, he reached into his vest, pulling out a piece of paper and tossing it onto the pile of money. Glancing at the paper, the dealer could tell that it was the mortgage paper to a house. He knew the other player had lost a great amount of money so far, now knew that he was at the end of his rope. He could sense the fear in his prey. He knew that now the game was finished. Once again the dealer had everything he needed to get what he wanted. The look in his eyes showed his intent. The drunken player was well past the point where he could read any sign of his plan. The dealer had played games like this before, why should now be any different. So, not speaking a single word he nodded and they played on... The game at the tavern had proved most useful. |
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