Crossing the Line Read Free Page A

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.”
    â€œBullshit.”
    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.”
    â€œI’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.
    â€œYou 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 footsteps 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.
    â€œOh,” 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.
    â€œI’m really sorry about all of that,” she said.
    â€œWhy?” 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.”
    â€œLet me guess. He said he didn’t want no advice from a woman.”
    â€œActually, he kept trying to get me into bed. Every time I spoke a word to