Authors: J. R. Roberts
When Clint had first thought about taking a ride to clear his head, it had seemed like a good idea. When Danielle wanted to join him, it seemed like an even better idea. As far as his injuries went, he figured he'd stop feeling them after a while if he just kept riding and let his mind drift in other directions. That last part couldn't have been more wrong.
He pulled back on his reins, bringing Eclipse to a stop about a mile outside of town. “What's the matter?” Danielle asked. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I'm fine,” Clint lied. “This just looks like a good spot.”
Fortunately, the spot he'd randomly chosen did have its merits. Just off the trail was a wide field of tall grass beneath a wide, bright blue sky. “You're right,” she said. “And there's a stream right over there where we can water the horses.”
“Perfect. Let's do that.”
They dismounted, led two grateful horses to a shallow stream, and found a clear spot where Clint could lay out the blanket he'd brought. He then eased himself down so he could sit and try not to grunt too loudly with the effort of it all.
“You sure you're all right?” Danielle asked. “That sounded like you just aged twenty years when you sat down.”
“Respect your elders, girl,” Clint grunted.
She moved closer to him on both knees and began tugging at his shirt. Although her efforts weren't completely unwanted, he shifted and tried to steer her away from the buttons she'd been fussing with. “I didn't think this would be so difficult,” she said.
“Then maybe you shouldâ”
“Good Lord!” Danielle gasped. “What happened to you and don't you dare feed me some kind of story.”
Clint thought of a few jokes he could make, but once he looked down at his heavily bruised ribs, he knew they wouldn't go over well. “It looks worse than it is,” he explained.
Running her hands gently over the mottled patches of dark blue, black, and red, she said, “Well, that's not saying much. If it was as bad as it looked, you wouldn't be able to walk. Somebody did this to you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The fist marks right there and there.” When she pointed them out, Danielle poked Clint's side as if she was trying to push him over.
“All right, all right! You got me,” Clint said. “Just for the love of God, stop that!”
Keeping her finger poised over one of the darkest bruises, she scowled at him and asked, “What happened to you?”
“I got the hell beat out of me.”
“Tell me you gave as good as you got.”
“I did my best.”
“That wasn't very convincing,” she said.
“There were three of them.”
As soon as he saw the reaction he got from Danielle, Clint added, “Three of them with guns.”
“Oh my God. I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time.”
“I should think so.”
She moved in closer to him while reaching out with cautious hands. Placing one hand upon his ribs, she asked, “Does this hurt?”
“A little.”
Danielle smirked since she knew he was playing up the situation, but she went along with it for the moment. “What about this?” she asked while rubbing her other hand against his chest.
“Not as much,” Clint said.
She took the hand from his ribs and brushed it against his face. When he winced dramatically, she said, “Oh, come on. Don't be such a little daisy.”
“Daisy?” Clint said. “Is that what you think?” He proved his point by using one hand to pull her face close enough to his for him to plant a kiss on her that lasted a good long while. Partway through it, Danielle slipped her tongue into his mouth and let her hands wander down along his body.
Drawing in a sharp, sudden breath, Clint said, “Okay, now that really did hurt a bit.”
She was touching one of the more heavily bruised parts of his torso and quickly pulled her hand back. “Sorry about that.”
Clint stretched out his legs and lay back with his hands clasped behind his head. “I suppose you'll just have to make it up to me somehow.”
Slowly crawling on top of him, Danielle was careful not to put any pressure on his upper body. Instead, she straddled the lower portion of his hips while tugging at Clint's belt buckle. “I think I might be able to come up with something,” she said. Before long, she'd loosened his jeans and peeled them off him.
The moment she'd started touching him, Clint could feel his body responding to her. By the time her hand found his cock, it had become fully erect. She stroked it with one hand before wrapping her lips around its tip. He looked down to watch her lick him as if she was savoring a cool piece of ice on a hot summer day. Her eyes wandered up to meet his as she opened her mouth and took him all the way in. Closing her lips around the base of his shaft, she started slowly bobbing up and down.
Before long, Clint couldn't help but squirm. He reached down to put his hands on her head to keep her in the right spot at some times and to urge her to suck him harder at others. Danielle responded to every one of his requests while teasing him with her tongue. Just before he reached the point of no return, she lifted her head and asked, “Is that enough for you to forgive me?”
“Not quite,” he told her.
She smiled hungrily while stripping out of her clothes. “I was hoping you'd say that.”
Clint enjoyed watching her remove every layer of her clothing until she was stark naked. Standing over him, Danielle ran her hands over her ample breasts. Slowly, she straddled him and lowered herself down onto his rigid pole. She reached down to guide him between her legs. When Clint was finally inside her, they both let out long, grateful moans.
He reached up to hold her hips as she began to rock back and forth. Lost in the moment, she placed her hands upon his chest and leaned forward. Danielle's eyes snapped open when she heard Clint suck in a painful breath. “Sorry,” she said.
Rather than saying anything, he used one hand to pull her down so he could kiss her long and hard. His other hand gripped her backside to hold her in place as he started pumping up into her. Danielle may have been surprised by his show of initiative, but she wasn't about to complain. Instead, she ground her hips in time to his rhythm while grunting softly with every breath.
Danielle arched her back while continuing to ride him. Since she didn't want to push down against his battered torso, she slid her hands through her hair while looking up at the sky. Clint placed his hands upon her breasts, feeling them sway to the motion of her body. When he started to massage them, Danielle placed her hands over his to guide him much as he'd guided her not too long ago.
When she grew anxious, she stopped rocking and started bouncing straight up and down on top of him. That way, she could take every inch of him inside her in a series of powerful thrusts. Clint could feel her climax approaching from the trembling of her muscles to the quickening of her breaths. He pushed her all the way over the edge by pounding into her until she let out a shuddering cry.
Danielle remained perfectly still for a few seconds as her orgasm surged through her from head to toe. Her cheeks were flushed, and her heart was still pounding in her chest when she opened her eyes to look down at him.
“I'm afraid I'm still hurting you,” she said.
“Anything but,” Clint told her.
“If it's all the same, I think I should finish what I started.” As she said those words, she climbed off him and crawled down until her head was once more above his rigid penis. Raking both hands down over his stomach, she wrapped her lips around his cock and sucked him vigorously. Unlike the first time, she wasn't trying to tease or entice him. Danielle knew exactly what Clint needed and she knew exactly how to give it to him. Her tongue pressed against his smooth flesh, and her head bobbed up and down without any sign of letting up.
All Clint could do from there was lie back and enjoy the ride.
Although Clint had put on a brave face until being very pleasantly distracted from his injuries, he knew he needed to get some sort of attention if he was going to heal up anytime soon. He still didn't go through the trouble of finding a doctor, since he'd put his body through the wringer more than enough times to tend to himself. Once he and Danielle rode back to town, he visited a barbershop that also advertised hot baths. The pair of dented tubs in the back of the small building on Linden Street weren't much to look at, but the place had everything Clint needed.
The hot water soothed away a good portion of his aches, leaving him with a dull and much more manageable throb in the ribs that had been hit the most. When he stood up to gather his clothes, he did so without letting out a single strained wheeze. After that, he treated himself to a shave as well as a trim.
“Will I see you tomorrow again, Mr. Adams?” the barber asked.
Since he was probably the portly man's best customer in weeks, Clint couldn't blame the barber for not wanting to let him go. “As soon as my whiskers get out of control, this is the first place I'll visit.”
The barber smiled. He smiled even wider when Clint tossed him an extra coin on top of what he'd already paid. “I'll be looking forward to it!” he said.
Stepping out of the barbershop, Clint felt like a new man. He strolled down Linden Street, marveling at how many times one path could shift and bend over such relatively flat ground. Despite the lack of boulders, ponds, or any other obstructions, the street took a serpentine shape, as if the men who'd created it never quite decided which direction they wanted it to go. When he reached the spot where Third Avenue branched off from the main route through town, Clint stopped.
Something had been nagging at the back of his mind, and he hadn't quite known what it was. Granted, part of the reason was that he'd been distracted. Danielle was enough to distract any man, but Clint had been forced to deal with plenty more than her since his arrival in Larga Noche. After clearing his head with a ride and a hot bath, among other things, Clint was able to get a handle on what had been bothering him.
The main source of his fretting was Westin himself. Of course, Clint hated steering clear of an asshole like that who'd beaten the tar out of him at gunpoint, but he took comfort in knowing he would be paying Westin a visit real soon. What truly got under his skin was the fact that Westin seemed to be going through a whole lot of trouble to hurt his stepbrother when he could have just as easily beaten Leo to a pulp and taken what he wanted from him. As far as that was concerned, if Westin wanted to hurt Leo some other way, he could have simply put the Dig Dog to a torch.
There was something else behind Westin's actions; possibly someone else, for that matter, causing him to work up such an elaborate trade. As he thought it over some more, Clint found himself walking down Third Avenue. Now that he wasn't looking for a particular place or cursing the idiots who'd put the town together, he saw a lot more than the last times he'd walked that same path.
Instead of a town that had grown outward from some central point like hubs on a wheel, Larga Noche seemed to have been put together in spurts. Small portions of town were separated into even smaller sections to provide stores, entertainments, and services. In another part of town, those same needs were met in another clump of seemingly random buildings. Perhaps someday the town would form larger districts, but there was just as good a chance that Larga Noche would dry up and blow away like so many other settlements before it.
The main reason he thought along those lines was because Clint had been thinking about other people in town who might benefit from what was happening to Leo and his place. The first thing to pop into Clint's mind from there was that other saloons could always do well with less competition. When it came to moving Madeline to another spot, however, that added theaters into the mix. He had yet to see any theaters in Larga Noche, but saloons were a different story. In fact, he'd heard mention of a few other places since he'd been in town.
One of those places was the Tiger's Paw. Just down the street from the Dig Dog was the place marked by an elaborate painting of a tiger. Upon getting a little closer, Clint was able to read the sign that let him know he'd indeed found the place he was after. Preparing himself for the worst, he opened the Tiger's Paw's front door and stepped inside.
Even before he'd been able to soak in everything he was seeing and hearing, Clint knew one thing for certain: If Leo wanted to compete with that place, he was in a whole lot of trouble.
The Tiger's Paw wasn't the largest saloon Clint had ever seen, but it had to be one of the fanciest. The dark blue carpeting on the floor alone could very well have paid for most everything Leo had at the Dig Dog. Even more impressive was the fact that the carpet was the least impressive thing Clint could see.
Apart from the card tables and faro layouts, he spotted other games of chance that he rarely saw outside cities such as San Francisco, Denver, or New York City. As he walked through the place to approach the bar, Clint was greeted by exotic women who looked more like expensive china dolls. One of those was wrapped in dark red silk and had her raven black hair pinned up high so a few long strands could wind over her ears and brush against the ivory contours of her exposed shoulder. She was obviously from the Far East, but he couldn't quite nail down anything more specific than that.
Ruby red lips parted into a smile that was so genuine, Clint thought he might have actually saved the woman's life at one time. “Greetings and welcome to the Tiger's Paw,” she said in a rich, melodic voice.
“Hello there,” Clint replied. “I was just passing by and thought I could have a look inside.” The instant he heard himself speaking to her, Clint wished he could draw the words back into his mouth and never say them again. He hadn't felt so flustered since the first time he'd ever approached a woman.
Bright green eyes reflected the same beautiful smile adorning her face. “You are sweet,” she said while taking his arm in a way that felt as if she were melting against him. “Would you like something to drink?”
Almost immediately, Clint regained his composure. “I certainly would, just so long as you have one with me.”
Clearly recognizing the change in his demeanor, the Asian beauty leaned against the bar while letting her hand drift all the way down Clint's arm. “I have not seen you here before.”
“That's because I'm new in town. I've been spending some time at a place just down the street, though. The Dig Dog. Ever heard of it?”
“I have,” she said in a voice that could have said anything at all and made it enticing. “Very strange name.”
“It most certainly is.”
Offering him her hand, she said, “I am Jade.”
“Clint Adams,” he replied while taking her hand and kissing it. When he got that small taste of her skin, he couldn't help but wonder what the rest of her tasted like. He tried not to think about it for too long, lest he be too distracted to continue.
“I am glad you've decided to visit the Tiger's Paw,” Jade said. “What would you like to drink?”
“What would you recommend?”
“Let me buy you a spiced rum. Just arrived from Boston this week.”
“That sounds good.” At first, Clint thought he might have misunderstood the part about her buying the drink for him. The bartender arrived, however, took the order, and handed over two drinks without asking for a cent.
Jade took one of the glasses and raised it. “Here is to good beginnings.”
Touching his glass to hers, Clint sampled some of the best rum he'd ever had.
“Do you gamble?” Jade asked.
“Occasionally.”
“What do you play?”
“Solitaire mostly.”
She smiled again. “I highly doubt that. Why are you here today, Mr. Adams?”
“Why does any man visit a saloon?”
“If you were just any man, you would have made it clear what you wanted by now. I think you have something specific in mind and are just waiting to ask.”
Clint took another drink of rum and then set the glass on top of the bar. “Who owns this place?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I'd like to buy it.”
Jade didn't believe that for a moment. Instead, she smiled at him as she most likely did when any customer told her a bad joke. “Mr. Dhang is a very busy man.”
“Mr. Dhang?”
“The owner.”
“Fact is, I'd just like to meet the man who put a place like this in the middle of such a backwards town.”
Jade's brow furrowed. “Backwards town?”
“Yeah. It seems like whoever put Larga Noche together didn't know whether he was coming or going. After walking the streets for a couple of seconds, I sure as hell didn't.”
Compared to the polite smile she'd showed him at his last joke, this one was something completely different. She placed her hand on his arm and let out a laugh that caught the attention of every man within ten feet of where she and Clint were standing. Considering how many people were crammed into that saloon, that was saying something.
“I know just what you mean!” Jade said. “When I first got here, I spent most of my time being lost.”
Clint came up with a few humorous stories about their shared frustrations with the town while finishing their rum. When the barkeep took the empty glasses away, Jade wrapped her arm around his and led him toward the gambling tables. “I will take you to see Mr. Dhang.”
“Much obliged.”
Leaning in to brush against him as she walked, Jade whispered, “I like the way men in this part of the country speak.”
“Well, I'm sure I speak for all such men when I say we like the way you do pretty much everything.”
Jade laughed again and brushed her hair back, filling Clint's nose with her scent. She escorted him across a room that was filled with almost more people than Clint had seen thus far in the rest of the town. The customers were occupied with all manner of diversions ranging from card games to exotic women. Just when Clint thought they'd reached the edge of the room, Jade took him a bit farther.
Finally, they walked up a narrow set of stairs leading to a floor that was half the size of the main level. It was in the shape of a crescent and built so a good portion of the tables up there could look down on the ones below. The games up there were different than the ones being played on the first floor, as were the players. While the men on the main floor were mostly engrossed in poker or faro, the cards up here weren't even painted with the same symbols or pictures as those. The few tables Clint saw that were using standard decks had the cards spread out in unfamiliar patterns.
The men playing those strange games were dressed in expensive suits that were tailored to fit them perfectly. They all stared at Clint with mild distaste as he passed them by, but were quickly diverted by the woman who was accompanying him. It did Clint some bit of good to know that the men on the second floor were familiar in at least one way.
The table Jade approached was at the farthest point of the floor's crescent shape. It had the best view of the main room and was easily blocked off by a trio of solidly built Asian men whose thickly muscled arms and beefy hands looked as if they'd been molded from granite. Although their suit coats were too well made to give anything away, Clint had no doubts that those men were carrying enough firepower to defeat a small uprising.
There were four men playing whatever game was being hosted at that table. Clint leaned forward to get a look at the cards, but was blocked by a wall of muscle that closed in while scowling at him. One of the men seated at that table wore a suit cut from dark purple silk and frilly cuffs sprouting from both sleeves. At least two of them were Chinese, and the other had a different look to his facial features and body type.
The skinniest of the four men had wrinkled skin that looked as if it had been steamed partially loose from his bones and long wispy silver hair that hung from the back of his scalp and his chin. His clothes weren't as obviously expensive as those worn by the others, and seemed almost as antique as the man wrapped within them. He squinted at Clint, frowned, and said, “Why is this foreigner interrupting us?”
Jade smiled. “His name isâ”
“I don't care to hear his name,” the old man snapped. Jabbing a finger at the three muscular guards, he said, “Take him from my sight, slit his throat, and leave him outside.”
Some of the men chuckled at that, and before Clint could say anything, the old man waggled a bony finger at the closest guard. “No, no,” he said in his screechy voice. “Remove him from my sight, take him outside, and then slit his throat. Better for rug.”
Clint didn't like that option much better than the first.