The Passionate and the Proud by Vanessa Royall Read Free Book Online Page A

bored voice. “You lose, Landar.”
    The quiet in the room was now as deep as it had been while the wheel was spinning, but the character of that silence was completely different. Then it had been filled with the tension of risk. Now it was colored by the imminence of danger.
    “Funny thing,” said Garn. His voice was as taut and certain as he was, filled with an imminence of its own. “I swear I never saw a roulette wheel behave the way this one just did. Maybe it’s got a busted spring or something. Or maybe an extra spring. Surely you won’t mind if I have a look?”
    Sensing trouble, people started backing slowly away from the table, the men shielding the women. Garn stood on one side of the table, the dealer and Jason Bascomb on the other. Brutus looked on, impassive and glowering.
    “I’m sure we can settle this without incident,” said the suave Bascomb.
    “Sure we can,” replied Garn, his voice clear and tense now. “Sure we can, as soon as I have a look at the workings underneath that roulette wheel.”
    “I’m afraid that’s not permitted, Landar. There is no law providing for such an examination.”
    Garn put his hands beneath the edge of the table and started to lift it. Chips and coins slid as the table tilted.
    “Stop it, Landar, or you’ll be sorry,” Bascomb threatened.
    “No,” replied Garn. “You’ll be sorry at the next port if I find that this wheel’s been doctored.”
    The dealer stepped toward Garn and grabbed his shoulder. Garn dropped the table, spun around, and sent the dealer to the floor with a straight right jab. He lay there moaning and twitching.
    Bascomb made his decision. “Brutus, get Mr. Landar out of here.”
    The black giant had biceps larger than country hams and a breadth of shoulders two axe-handles across. He was monstrous. No man had ever dared challenge him.
    Please, no, prayed Emmalee, as Brutus came around the table toward Garn, who stood his ground.
    “Come quiet and no get hurt,” rumbled the giant.
    “Stay where you are!” Garn told him. “Don’t come a step nearer.” The danger of his situation had cleared Garn’s head. He showed no traces of alcohol now.
    Astounded and bewildered, Brutus stood there for a moment, then looked at Bascomb for instructions.
    “I don’t want a fight,” Garn said.
    Bascomb made a sound that was like a laugh and a groan. “I bet you don’t. But you’re the one who’s provoked this. Brutus, get him out of here.”
    The black giant strode forward again, toward Garn. His tremendous arms reached out.
    Garn stepped to one side, drew back his fist, and smashed Brutus right in the nose.
    Emmalee heard herself scream, which was quite a feat since everybody else was screaming too. Brutus, unused to pain, not to mention defiance, let out a roar that filled the casino. With his eyes on the slowly retreating Garn, he reached down and lifted the roulette table from the floor…
    “Brutus! No!” yelled Bascomb, thinking of his elegant casino.
    …and lifted the massive rectangle of mahogany and felt above his head, scattering wheel and chips, coins and greenback and gold. Garn was backed against the wall of windows on the port side of the ship.
    “Brutus! Wait!” shouted Garn. He knew he was in trouble, and his clever gray eyes darted here and there in search of an escape route, but his calm was almost insouciant. “Brutus! I bet I can jump through this glass window before you can throw that table at me!”
    Garn made a move toward the window.
    The ebony behemoth hurled the roulette table at that magnificent wall of sheer glass.
    Garn flattened himself to the floor as the table sailed above him, crashed through the glass, out into the night, and down into the Mississippi.
    “Thanks, Brutus.” Garn smiled, standing. “I really didn’t want to have to swim all the way to Missouri on a night like this.”
    He leaped through the great open space where the window had been and dived to the water below. Emmalee and the