The Sapphire Gun Read Free

hear each other speak.
    One half of this couple was a tall man with well-groomed hair, a thin mustache, and skin that was the color of richly tanned leather. His features were sharp, and his eyes burned like two pieces of coal in their sockets. He held onto his partner as if she was the last woman on earth, and he looked directly into her eyes as their bodies moved together.
    The woman had long, flowing hair that was dark with the occasional streak of gold. Her skin wasn’t as dark as the man’s, but was closer to the color of cinnamon. Her body was tight and trim, but still managed to fill out her dark skirt and white blouse nicely.
    â€œYou’re looking at that man like you know him,” the woman said.
    â€œThat’s because I do know him, Rosa,” he replied with a subtle Castilian accent.
    â€œDoes he know you?”
    â€œPossibly. I doubt I should bother introducing myself, however. If anything, Mr. Adams would only know me by reputation.”
    Allowing herself to be swept into a broad circle, Rosa leaned back and let her hair sway behind her. The man leading their dance moved like a bullfighter and made no effort to hide the fact that his dancing had come from classical training.
    Even though his face never pointed away from Rosa’s, the Spanish man’s eyes darted to remain fixed upon Clint whenever possible. He watched as the blonde pressed herself against Clint, and then he turned away when Clint spun around to face his direction.
    â€œHave you introduced yourself to our host?” he asked.
    â€œYou know I haven’t, Franco.”
    â€œPerhaps it is time.”
    Snapping her head upright so she could stare him down as the music built to a climax, she said, “I am following your lead.”
    Franco laughed at the banter, wrapped her up in one arm, and then snapped her outward like a whipping extension of his own hand. Rosa twirled while smiling and bouncing off one dancer after another. Within the chaos of the party, she didn’t stand out too much, and a few other women twirled even faster as if to outdo her.
    Once he saw Rosa separate from the larger group and make her way to Johnny, Franco selected another woman from the crowd and took her in his arms. She was a tall, skinny woman with hair that looked like burnt straw. Her face wasn’t quite what someone would consider beautiful, but the smile that showed up there made her a lot more attractive.
    â€œHey!” the man who’d been dancing with the brown-haired woman shouted. “That’s my wife!”
    Keeping her eyes on Franco and her hands on the Spaniard’s broad shoulders, she replied, “Shut up, Walter. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    As Franco danced, he kept his eyes and hands glued onto his new partner. Actually, his eyes left her every so often to check on Rosa’s progress with Johnny. His hands, however, remained attached to her wriggling hips.
    Midway through the next song, Rosa tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned to walk back toward the dancers. Franco spotted her immediately and launched himself into a flurry of skillfully moving feet and gyrating hips.
    The brown-haired woman did her best to keep up, but mainly watched Franco appreciatively. Just as her husband had decided he’d had enough, she felt Franco pull her in and then spin her away as he’d done to Rosa not long ago. She bumped against her husband, who quickly moved her behind him.
    Franco bowed slightly and touched his forehead in a friendly salute. “You are a very lucky man, señor.”
    â€œYeah,” the husband grunted. “I know I am.”
    Between the Spaniard’s warm smile and his willingness to step away, the husband didn’t have much of a reason to complain. His wife was still worked up, so she quickly pulled him into a bad impression of Franco’s dance steps.
    Rosa wove through the crowd and slipped into Franco’s arms. “He will be leaving