Читать книгу Hurricane Hannah - Sue Civil-Brown - Страница 12

BUCK COULDN’T help it. As the vixen walked away toward the door, all he could see was the gentle sway of her hips. And of course she couldn’t leave without another word.

All of a sudden, she stopped and turned. “Is there anywhere I can get a shower?”

The idea of her in a shower filled his mind with all sorts of images that belonged in a men’s magazine. For a few seconds his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.

“Sure,” said Craig, drawling. He pointed to the emergency gravity shower over in the corner of the hangar, a defense against caustic spills and burns.

Hannah put her hands on those luscious hips. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You can use mine,” Buck heard himself say, another one of those Delilah-induced moments. It was like being under an evil spell.

“You don’t mind?”

He shook his head. Mind? He’d have to be out of his mind to mind. “Go through the back door of the office. The bathroom is off to the right.”

“Thanks.”

She shifted directions and headed back to her plane, prolonging his agony. When she re-emerged from the Lear, she was carrying a duffel.

“I thought,” she said as she passed him, “that I’d be vacationing in Aruba. I guess it’ll be here instead.”

Vacationing here? Running up the side of the volcano and jumping into the crater was beginning to sound like a pleasant alternative. Certainly a safer one. But then he remembered Edna. Nope. No running up the side of a volcano for him.

Then, thanks to all powers that be, Hannah disappeared through the door. All of a sudden the air lost its thickness and he could breathe again. He ignored the strange look Craig was giving him.

“Let’s take a look at these schematics.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to look for signs of the spilled fuel?”

Buck gave him a look. “Sure, go ahead. Be my guest. In the meantime, I’m going to find out exactly what we’re getting into here so I don’t mess it up.”

Craig sighed and pulled over a stool, the metal legs scraping on concrete. “No seat of the pants, huh?”

“Not with this one. I want that woman off this island in one piece just as soon as I can manage.”

“Yeah, right.”

Buck glared at him, and Craig wisely shut his yap.

BUCK’S APARTMENT behind the office was pin-neat, although darkened by a shortage of windows…probably deliberate because of storms.

Hannah couldn’t resist looking around a little out of curiosity. The man had apparently brought Navy habits with him into civilian life. Every bit of furnishing was utilitarian. Nothing appeared to be out of place. A check of the refrigerator showed it was spotless, and also offered the bounty of some fresh fruit. Grabbing a pear, mindful that it was probably terribly expensive given how far it must have come, she ate it, loving the way the juice trickled down her chin.

Having seen everything else, she was no longer afraid to look in his bathroom. It, too, was spotless, and the shower stall gleamed. The hot water felt like heaven and she took longer than she might have otherwise. When she at last emerged, she was pink from the heat and her fingers were beginning to prune.

When she had toweled off she decided that since she wasn’t going to be spending the expected time in Aruba, she might as well wear some of the nicer clothing she had brought.

Like the sarong she’d bought years ago in Jamaica, a lovely combination of blues and greens. Sandals…and a barrette in her hair that was decorated with a small but colorful flower.

A glance in the mirror told her she looked okay, so off she went to find a ride to town, because if she had to spend all day with Buck Shanahan, there was going to be blood on the floor.

Then she returned to the hangar and said, “Can someone give me a ride to town? I need some necessities.”

Buck glared. Craig jumped to his feet. “Sure,” he said.

AS THE JEEP bounced along, rounding one tight switchback after another on their way down the mountain, Craig glanced over at Hannah, obviously trying to decide whether to say something. Finally, he spoke.

“You really ought to find a way to bow out of Buck’s poker game tomorrow night,” he said.

“Why?” she asked. “I like poker. It’s fun, and I’m going to be bored beyond belief if I don’t find something to do.”

“I understand that, Ma’am, but….”

“First, it’s Hannah, not Ma’am. ‘Ma’am’ is my mother, or my grandmother. Second, I’m not going to be offended if you guys smoke cigars and tell bawdy jokes, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have three brothers. I think I’ve probably heard it all.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “Look, if you’re bored, I’ll give you a ride to the casino tonight. They’ll still have the poker tables open in the restaurant. Play there. Don’t play in Buck’s game. Buck’s game is the toughest on the island, bar none. He says it’s just a few friends, but they play hard and they’re all damn good. I don’t play in Buck’s game. My wife would kill me if I did.”

“I don’t feel much like being stranded away from my plane if the hurricane should happen to pick up speed,” she said. “And I never gamble with money that I can’t afford to lose.”

“Well, that’s what you’ll do if you sit at Buck’s table,” he said. “Take my word for it.”

“You never know, maybe I’ll get lucky,” she said.

By this time they were riding along a dusty street framed on either side by small, colorful shops. Not many people seemed to be out and about, however. Maybe they were all working. Or maybe they were battening down for the storm.

“You’ll need to, Ma’am…Hannah. Well, here’s the island grocery. Do you need me to show you around?”

She smiled. “I woke up with an alligator staring at me. I think I can navigate the wilds of a grocery. But thanks anyway. Meet back here in an hour?”

“Sure thing,” he said as she climbed out.

So this was going to be a major tourist resort? she wondered as she looked around. It looked more like a Caribbean version of Shantytown, U.S.A. Across the street from the grocery was the requisite tourist T-shirt shop, and a few other shops appeared to specialize in island-themed knickknacks, but by and large the town center looked tired and more than a bit run-down.

The grocery itself was a small shop, more the type she commonly saw in Europe than the big box supermarkets she was accustomed to in the U.S. The shelves were plywood on two-by-four frames, closely packed with what seemed to be a hodgepodge of items in no discernible organization. But she was able to find the few staples she needed—bread, some cold cuts, milk, juice, mustard, coffee, cream and sugar—and the prices were not much higher than she’d have paid in Houston. Considering that everything had to be flown or shipped in, that surprised her.

The grocer, an elderly man who introduced himself as Horace, the sole surviving descendant of Hank Hanratty, leaned over the counter to chat as she set her selections down. “So you’re the fruitcake who ruined last night’s game. I hear Buck had sevens full.”

At first surprised, then a little irritated, Hannah answered, “I had to make an emergency landing, yes.”

The old eyes, a faded blue, smiled at her. “Does him good to get shook up once in a while. You’ll have a run for your money, though.”

“A run for my money? Over what?”

“Buck. That volcanologist has her cap set for him.”

Hannah bristled. “I can assure you, I don’t have my cap set for anyone. I just want to be on my way to Aruba.”

He nodded as if he didn’t believe her. Now he was definitely smirking. “Maybe not,” he said doubtfully. “Casino’s damn near shut down now, you know. Are you sure that’s all you want for getting through the hurricane?”

“It’s a hurricane now?”

The old man nodded. “Just hit Cat One a couple of hours ago. I thought you pilots paid attention to the weather. You ought to buy some water. That’s the first thing to muck up every time one of these things blows through.”

“I have no place to put it.”

“I’ll stack it for you,” he said agreeably enough. “Craig can load it in that Jeep of his for you when he gets back. You need three gallons per person per day. So that’s you and Buck, figure four days…twelve gallons.”

“Umm,” Hannah said, but the old man was already stacking cases of bottled water by the door.

“Next is non-perishable food,” he said. “Canned food is better, but we want to avoid the salty stuff. That would increase your water consumption. So let me see…two people for four days….”

A cardboard pallet of assorted canned meats and vegetables grew beside the cases of water.

“You keep saying ‘two people,’ Horace. Why do you assume I am buying for Buck, too?”

“Least you can do for costing him the game,” he said, without looking up, still stacking cans. “Plus, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“But I don’t want to get to his heart!” she objected.

“Yeah, whatever,” he replied. “Now, what kind of flashlights do the two of you have?”

“I,” Hannah said, emphasizing the word, “have an emergency flashlight in the aircraft, and my own in my travel kit. I’ve no idea what Buck has, though I’m sure he is more than adequately prepared.”

“Need two good six-volt area lanterns, and two hand-helds,” he said, fetching them. “And spare batteries for each. And candles, just in case.”

“Mr. Hanratty….” she began.

“Horace,” he said, still working feverishly. “You’ll also want things to do, in case you get bored. A couple of decks of cards, some dice. I’m sure Buck has poker chips but just in case I’ll toss in a set.”

“I like to read,” Hannah said, feeling as if she was being sold the entire store.

“I’ve got just the thing for you,” he said. “I’ve got the complete series of David Sklansky books on poker, as well as Mason Malmuth’s Essays on Gambling. And I guess I should throw in Doyle Brunson’s Super System 2 as well.”

“I like to read novels,” she said.

“I have The Cincinnati Kid,” he said.

“Saw the movie,” she said, wondering if Horace had any leisure activities in his store that did not involve poker or gambling.

“And I have another one here, Wildcard.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “Another poker novel?”

“Nope,” he said, smiling proudly. “It’s an international conspiracy thriller, but people see the title and I can’t keep it in stock.”

“I’ll take it,” Hannah said. “Anything’s better than nothing.”

“Hey,” he said, looking wounded. “A lot of folks said this was a damn good book.”

“I’m sure it will be,” she replied.

“Okay, so that totals four hundred fifty three dollars,” he said.

“What?” Hannah shouted, blanching.

“I’ll round it down to four-fifty, since you’re with Buck.”

“I am not with Buck!”

“You will be when this hurricane hits,” Horace said. “Cash or charge? I take all of the major cards.”

“Mr. Hanratty—Horace—I don’t want this stuff and I’m not going to pay for it!”

His watery blue eyes lit up. “Great. But it’s already on the pallet. So you pay me or we play for it.”

“What?” She was floored.

“Yeah. I’m always up for a good game. Best two hands out of three.”

“You’re joking.”

He scowled at her. “I don’t joke about poker. Nobody on this island jokes about it. If you’re smart, you’ll take a tip and remember that.”

“But…I don’t want this stuff!”

“It’s a package. All or nothing. Stud. Best two out of three.”

Hannah felt the competitive urge overtaking her. “Who will deal? I want an impartial dealer.”

“Hah! I knew you were the right type of gal!” He cackled gleefully and pulled a brand new set of cards from behind the counter and began to peel the wrapper off. “Just step outside and grab the first person you see.”

“While you’re opening the deck? What kind of fool do you think I am? Dealer opens the deck.”

He laughed again, apparently delighted. “Fair enough, Sticks.”

“Sticks? Who told you that?”

“No secrets around here. Okay, fresh unopened deck. Now go get your dealer.”

It didn’t help her confidence any that he was rubbing his hands together.

It was easy to find a dealer. The first woman she ran into on the street was more than ready. She introduced herself as Gerda Miller, and confided she was a part-time dealer at Bill Anstin’s casino. A woman of about forty with an impressive bust, she was already rolling up her sleeves as they walked into the grocery.

Horace Hanratty had set up a card table and two chairs near a front window where the light was best. An unopened pack of cards waited, as did some chips.

“Wait a minute,” Hannah said. “I agreed to the best two out of three.”

The old shopkeeper grinned at her. “What fun is it if you can’t bet and bluff?”

Hannah hesitated, then decided he was right. “But only three hands. I don’t have all day.”

“Three hands. I hope you know how to bluff, Sticks.”

“Oh!” said Gerda Miller, “this is the Sticks who caused Buck’s full house to blow away last night?”

Hanratty looked at her. “Who did you think she was?”

“Just some tourist.”

“Well, she’s not. And after what she did to Buck last night, I think this game might help square things.”

Hannah wanted to roll her eyes but refrained.

But Gerda took issue with that remark herself. “I’m glad Buck’s cards got blown away. If we don’t get that casino, I may be out of a job.”

“Don’t be foolish, woman. You already have a job at the casino.”

“But how long do you think that tiki hut charm is going to keep drawing boats?”

“As long as there are cheap people who want to take the cheapest cruises in the world.”

“I’d get paid more if we had a better casino.”

Hanratty snorted. “You’d get paid more if someone besides Bill Anstin was running the operation. Now deal, dammit.”

Gerda snorted but opened the pack, pulled out the jokers and instruction cards and began to shuffle with all the aplomb of a professional. “Ante up,” she said.

Hannah looked at Horace. “We didn’t agree how much the antes would be.”

Horace picked up a red chip, casino quality clay. “Ten. We’ve each got fifty of these things. Short game.”

“That’s what I wanted.” Somehow she suspected she’d just been told they weren’t going to play only three hands. But she loved poker, any kind, and found it both relaxing and challenging. A slightly longer game would only keep her away from Buck Shanahan that much longer, and she couldn’t find anything in that to be upset about.

She riffled her chips, waiting as Gerda dealt the first three cards, two face-down, one face-up.

She was looking at a seven of clubs face up. Somehow, since Buck had started everyone calling her Sticks because of his sevens, she thought that was a sign of good luck.

She wasn’t superstitious. Of course not. No way.

When she peeked at her hole cards, the two that were face down, her heart began to hammer. Two more sevens. She had trips. An excellent hand, and right off the top with four more cards to come.

Horace shoved in a stack of chips. “Two hundred.”

Hannah, able to see only the four of diamonds he had face up tried to imagine what hand he could be betting so much on. A flush draw? A straight draw? She pursed her lips, then called him.

Another card, this time a Queen of Hearts, more betting, and again, until all the cards were on the table and the last two hole cards were dealt. Hannah looked at the two diamonds on the table, one of them part of Hanratty’s hand, and one of them part of the board cards, then considered that in her hand she already held two diamonds. The likelihood that he had a flush was…small, she decided, and called his final bet. They were both all in.

She lost. Hanratty held a flush after all. He spread out his five winning cards and smiled beatifically. Then he looked at her trip sevens and said, “Oh, bad beat, Sticks.”

“Yeah, right. Well, I guess I have to pay you, because I don’t have any more chips.”

“Oh, I can take care of that. I did say two best out of three.”

“You did.” She agreed reluctantly, sure this old schemer had something up his sleeve. He rose and went to the stack of bottled water. Putting his hand atop it, he said, “Each of these twelve packs buys you…” he paused, thinking about it.

She could almost see the wheels spinning, as if he were deciding how much he thought he could take her for. She was just about ready to get up from the table and pay the four hundred and fifty dollar bill, when he said, “Tell you what. Three of these buys you another five hundred.”

Despite every instinct to the contrary, she settled back in her chair. “How much do they cost?”

“Six bucks apiece.”

“You’re on.”

So he carried the three cases of water to the already overloaded cart, then returned to the table. Hannah reminded herself she really wasn’t risking anything. After all, she’d either pay for the groceries or get them for free. And she could well afford the groceries, little though she wanted them.

Hanratty counted out another fifty red chips and shoved them her way. He smiled. “Ante up, Sticks.”

Two hands later, having added twelve more cases of water to the pile by the door, Hannah decided enough was enough. “Okay, Horace,” she said, walking to the door. “I’ll get it back next time.”

“Nah,” Hanratty said. “Get it from Buck instead, when you sit in his game tomorrow night.”

She turned. “How did you—”

He smiled. “No secrets, remember?”

She shook her head and walked out into the tropical heat. Then froze in her tracks as a woman planted herself directly in front of her. The woman scowled at her.

“Why are you trying to take my man?”