Page 51 of Four Cards Exposed

Probably the first true words he’d ever spoken to the man.

“He didn’t force me, Guerrero. We’re … just getting to know each other.”

James smiled a wolfish smile. “She means biblically, Guerrero, if you see what I mean.” He shifted his hips lewdly.

Guerrero’s face went from red to a dark shade of purple. As if an invisible force were choking him from behind.

James saw the man’s right shoulder move backward. The idiot was telegraphing his intent from miles away. James sidestepped the punch neatly. He moved behind Guerrero, wanting to bring his arm behind his back, but the man was so strong, James needed both his arms to do it.

“You fucker,” Guerrero spat out.

“I’m going to enjoy hurting you,” James whispered in his ear. “Almost as much as I’m enjoying Milena.”

James tightened his hold further, making Guerrero roar—the sound filled with pain and fury.

Suddenly, his own shoulders were pulled backwards by what seemed like two people. No, not two people. Just Moore.

“What the fuck? You’re fighting in my bar?” he asked, his voice incredulous, as if the thought that somebody would start a fight where he wasn’t making any money was beyond his comprehension. “Somebody better tell me what’s going on. Quick.”

Another shadow moved forward—Miguel Mendoza. “I think Guerrero feels some compensation might be in order,” he said, in his much gentler voice.

“Compensation for what?” Moore asked, a glint in his eye.

“I didn’t take anything from him,” James spat out.

“She was under my protection, you bastard.”

“And now she’s under mine,” Jay said, straightening to his full height. He looked back towards Moore. “I didn’t take anything from him, Mr. Moore, I swear,” he said.

Moore smiled coldly at both of them.

“You want to fight? You fight on Sunday. On the ship. It’ll be a special fight. The winner gets to keep the girl. Miguel and I … we’ll make the money.”

Behind him, Susan gasped. James willed her to keep still, to keep quiet.

Guerrero sputtered. “Miguel, this isn’t—“

“We are Sean’s guests, Guerrero. Don’t forget. And I think it will give us amusement, perhaps, to watch you … what is it you Americans say … to watch you wipe the floor with this gringo.”

In reply, James bared his teeth at Guerrero.

Sean laughed his booming laugh. “My gringo has won every fight he’s fought, Miguel.”

Miguel opened his delicate hands magnanimously. “Then you won’t mind if my brother and I place a bet already, on Guerrero.”

16

* * *

James

"I don’t want you to fight,” Susan said.

James finished the shirt he was folding before replying. He’d been down in the basement, eager to get his laundry done before the single working machine broke down again.

Last night, after the face-off with Guerrero, Susan had left the bar early with another waitress. Both he and Guerrero had tried to follow her, but she’d made it clear they weren’t welcome.

James hadn’t slept a wink, worrying about whether he’d done the right thing. But the thought of Guerrero pawing at Susan—the possibility that he might actually hurt her—was more than he could stomach.