Дэвид Балдаччи - A Gambling Man

He held up his glass to her and added a warm smile.

She stretched her leg out and touched his shoe with her bare foot and kept it there. “So that thing that happened in the mountains? Are we good on that?”

“They killed Bobby H. They were going to kill us. They deserved what they got. Hell, we let the little guy off easy.”

“You didn’t think that back then,” she pointed out.

“And maybe I was wrong.”

She took a sip of her drink and studied what she had left. “No, you weren’t, Archer. If I’d shot that little weasel in cold blood?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure what it would have done to me, but none of it would be good. So, I have to thank you for doing what you did.”

“Okay.”

“I see their faces in my sleep,” she said quietly. “I see how they died.”

“Yeah. I suppose you do.”

She shot him an anxious look. “Does it ever go away?”

“Not completely, no. But you see the faces less and less as time goes on and not nearly as clearly.”

“That’s good to know.”

“But if you ever see them so much that you can’t handle it, give me a call. I’ll be right over.”

“You’re a good man, Aloysius Archer.”

“Surprised you remembered my given name.”

“I plan to keep on surprising you. They say it’s good for a relationship.”

He grinned, and took another swallow of his drink. “Oh, so we have a relationship now?”

“I think so.”

“I actually know so. And I’m lucky for it.”

“Hell, we’re just gushing over each other. I’m starting to feel giddy.”

“I’m feeling something too, only it’s not that.”

This was the first and only time he had ever seen Liberty Callahan blush. It was a lovely look on the woman.

“You want to take me to lunch?” she said, a bit breathlessly. “No, but I will take you to dinner.”

“So what do we do in the meantime?”

Archer put his glass down, took off his jacket, undid his tie completely, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“If you have to ask, lady, then I’m really doing something wrong.”

She stood and slid her soft hand along his hard jaw.

“Oh, you’re not wrong, Archer. You just need to work on your timing, is all. But I got at least a year to help you with that.”

She took him by the hand, led him into her bedroom, and closed the door.

To Michelle, back to the forties with Archer. Right now, it beats the present day. And I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else.

To Michael Pietsch, Ben Sevier, Elizabeth Kulhanek, Jonathan Valuckas, Matthew Ballast, Beth de Guzman, Anthony Goff, Rena Kornbluh, Karen Kosztolnyik, Brian McLendon, Albert Tang, Andy Dodds, Ivy Cheng, Joseph Benincase, Andrew Duncan, Morgan Swift, Bob Castillo, Kristen Lemire, Briana Loewen, Mark Steven Long, Thomas Louie, Rachael Kelly, Kirsiah McNamara, Nita Basu, Lisa Cahn, Megan Fitzpatrick, Michele McGonigle, John Colucci, Alison Lazarus, Barry Broadhead, Martha Bucci, Rick Cobban, Ali Cutrone, Raylan Davis, Tracy Dowd, Melanie Freedman, Jean Griffin, Elizabeth Blue Guess, Linda Jamison, John Leary, John Lefler, Rachel Hairston, Suzanne Marx, Derek Meehan, Christopher Murphy, Donna Nopper, Rob Philpott, Barbara Slavin, Karen Torres, Rich Tullis, Mary Urban, Tracy Williams, Julie Hernandez, Laura Shepherd, Jeff Shay, Carla Stockalper, Ky’ron Fitzgerald, and everyone at Grand Central Publishing, for running on all cylinders for me.

To Aaron and Arleen Priest, Lucy Childs, Lisa Erbach Vance, Frances Jalet-Miller, and Kristen Pini, for making my life much easier.

To Mitch Hoffman, for doing what you do so well.

To Anthony Forbes Watson, Jeremy Trevathan, Alex Saunders, Sara Lloyd, Claire Evans, Sarah Arratoon, Laura Sherlock, Stuart Dwyer, Jonathan Atkins, Christine Jones, Leanne Williams, Stacey Hamilton, Charlotte Williams, Rebecca Kellaway, and Neil Lang at Pan Macmillan, for continuing to knock it out of the park.

To Praveen Naidoo and the stellar team at Pan Macmillan in Australia, for doing such an amazing job for me.

To Caspian Dennis and Sandy Violette, for being such great advocates for me.

And to Kristen White and Michelle Butler, for being the absolute best.