The River Nymph Read Free Page A

his waistband. Smiling, he said,
     “I don’t think so, ma’am. Remember? You never leave a table without collecting your winnin’s…no markers.”
    The stillness remained palpable as he continued to undress. But everyone’s hostile eyes fixed on her.
    Delilah could not seem to stop staring at the cunning pattern of his chest hair until he bent down and yanked off his hand-tooled
     leather boots and socks. When he straightened up and reached for the top button of his fly, her face was flame red. She bit
     her lip to keep from gasping aloud. But she could not force her gaze away from his hand as he deftly unfastened his trousers
     and shucked them down his long legs. Calm as could be, he peeled off the last item, silk unmentionables which almost floated
     onto the pile of clothing littering the money-covered table.
    Finally, he was newborn-naked, the most striking specimen of masculine beauty Delilah could ever have imagined. Like a Greek statue . Sinking her teeth into her lip with renewed vigor, she forced herself to look away from his coolly detached gaze. He was
     completely unconcerned about his nudity in a room full of people—in front of her. And why not? The rotter knew how humiliated
     she felt. He knew, too, that she had been fascinated looking at his body.
    He casually slipped into the shoulder sling of his .38-caliber Smith & Wesson, picked up the small Colt Derringer that had
     been tucked in his waistcoat, then held up a cigar. “Do you mind?” he asked.
    She shook her head in a daze. He fired up the stogie, then picked up his wallet, knife and cigar case. Clinton Daniels strolled
     out the door in an easy, long-legged gait, completely at his leisure, leaving pandemonium in his wake as the room exploded
     with furious whispers and muffled curses.
    “Unnatural bitch!”
    “I never seen anything so goddamned vicious in my life.”
    “Poor bastard was lucky to get outt a here with a full set of balls.”
    “Damn, not even Red Riley would do something this nasty!”

    “Bullshit! That wasn’t our deal.”
    Big Red Riley wasted little time meeting with Delilah and Horace to conclude the arrangement he had made with them the week
     before. The morning after the card game, he was seated at the large poker table in the salon of The River Nymph , glaring at his co-conspirators. Hell, I built this damned gambling hall!
    As his face turned puce with rage, Delilah thought that it clashed horribly with his bright red hair. The nickname “Big” was
     either a sop to the man’s inflated ego or an allusion to his undeniable power on the St. Louis riverfront. It certainly had
     not the remotest connection to his size. The scrawny little creature was at least two inches shorter than her own five feet
     seven. Adding to the “charm” of his weasely, narrow face was a boil on his oversized nose, an ugly thing that looked ready
     to erupt. She fervently hoped it would not do so before he could be removed from the premises.
    “Please, Mr. Riley, be rational,” Delilah cajoled softly, pushing the large stack of currency across the table. “You must
     admit—”
    “I ain’t admitting nothin’. Look, after losing this boat to that goddamned card hawk Daniels, I don’t intend to lose it a
     second time, least of all ta a female!” He punctuated the declaration with a thump of his fist on the oak table in front of
     him. “I looked high ’n low for somebody like you ta lure that bastard into a game. Get the Nymph back. My sources said you was top shelf. Never been this far west before. Nobody’d recognize you. I paid to bring you here,
     and by God, I offered you the sweetest deal any ringer could ask for—”
    “Mr. Riley—”
    “Mr. Riley, my ass! I put up the ten thousand dollars for your stake. Alls you had ta do was sucker Daniels into putting up
     the Nymph , win the game and give me back my stake money and the boat deed. You got lots of cash winnings for yourself.”
    Delilah’s impatience with