"I say I'm ready for my prize," Jack muttered through tight lips as he lowered his arm forcefully.
"I've got your money right over here."
"That's not the prize I was referring to," Ryan said, meeting Jack's dark, beady eyes.
"Take me to her."
For a moment Jack looked slightly taken aback by his intensity but then he laughed uproariously. "You're eager for it, aren't you, son? Well, you won't be disappointed.
Come on. A deal's a deal."
Jack signaled with his head toward the exit.
"Just a minute. I need
to get my clothes."
"What's the matter?" Jack asked warmly when he heard Ryan mutter a vicious curse a second later.
"My clothes are gone," Ryan hissed.
And so is my gun.
"Damn," Jack said angrily as he glanced around the packed room. "Someone must have nicked them during the frenzy of the knockout. Slimy little sneak thief. Ah well, what can I do? I try to run a nice place but. .. Hey! Where you going, son?"
Ryan jumped down to the main floor and approached the closest table where four men sat, one of them with a half-nude woman sprawled in his lap. They all looked up at Ryan in surprise.
"Did you see someone steal my stuff during the match?" Ryan demanded. He studied each of their faces in turn. Three of them gave him blank stares but the woman and one of the men glanced nervously behind Ryan's shoulder before they shook their heads. Ryan turned to where they'd been looking.
"It's rough luck, son, but your prize money will get you plenty of new clothes," Jack shouted down to him with a winning grin. "Come on; I thought you were all fired up to go upstairs."
Several of the men at the table wolf whistled behind him. "Hope you're nicer to your gal than you were to Mario, mister."
The full impact of Ryan's frustration must have carried in his glare at the men because they shut their mouths quickly enough. He followed Jack toward the exit of the room.
When they reached the hallway, which was garishly decorated with gilt mirrors and crimson wallpaper, Ryan suddenly realized that all four of the men who had sat at the table with Jack followed them.
Ryan paused. Jack and the four men stopped with him.
"That was one hell of a match," a well-groomed man with thick gray whiskers told him.
"Spectacular," another said.
"I'll never forget it as long as I live, seeing you bring down the mighty Mario," a third added jovially.
Ryan studied each of them in turn. With the exception of Mason, all three men were middle-aged and affluent-looking. He imagined he might find them in any number of
"respectable" places during the day, church, family gatherings and even Prairie Avenue.
Diamond Jack must afford them any number of opportunities for extra "business," not to mention an outlet for their more seedy desires.
"Thanks. But I don't need company to appreciate my prize," Ryan said quietly.
Mason rolled his eyes in disgust. "You can't let this lout have her," he whined to Jack.
"Look at him. A big, sweaty paddy and you're turning him loose on Ho—"
"Keep your drunken mouth shut," Jack ordered. He gave Mason a wilting once-over. "I suppose you'd like her father to figure out it was you in the photos? Or maybe you'd prefer your own daddy saw them."