Page 2 of Fifth Avenue Devil

I hold up a hand to stop his admonishment. "Let the man speak." I know that nothing I could lose here would touch my billionaire status. But I have a feeling that Archer is about to dangle something I want in front of my nose.

"What if I put a merger on the table?"

I sit up a little straighter. "A merger?"

"You've wanted Gellar Industries for a long time. You can have a merger with my company and get all our ground-penetrating radar technologies. How would that be?"

I tilt my head and fold my hands, considering the possibilities. "It depends. Would you still be involved? Because I will not work with you, Archer. You're a snake."

He glares at me. "You're trying to drive me out of business!"

I look to the dealer. "Can we move this along?"

"Wait!" Archer grits his teeth. "Okay. I am willing to wager the company. And it would be under new ownership. I'd step aside. If you win this bet. Which I'm confident you won't."

I look at my watch. It's almost six in the morning, and I'm getting tired. I shouldn't be gambling anything big right now. But I want to squash Archer Gellar so badly that I can almost taste his whimpers of pain.

"And what do you want if you win?" I ask, sounding almost bored.

"Fifteen million dollars." Archer is too quick to come up with the exact figure.

I give him a long look. "Four."

"Twelve!"

I consider him for several moments, then sigh. "Six. And that's my final offer. Take it or leave it, and let us all go home."

"Fine, fine." He waves his hand. "I'm going to win. It's my turn. The universe owes me."

I exchange solemn glances with the Iranian. He tosses his cards in wordlessly.

"All right," the dealer says, taking control of the moment. "That's it. All bets are placed. Let's see what the river has to show us."

He deals an ace.

Archer shoots up from the table with the biggest grin on his face. "Woohoo!" Without waiting for the dealer, he flips his cards over. He has a flush, not even a particularly good hand. But he is leaning over the table to offer a high-five to the Iraqi gentleman.

The Iraqi waves his hand. "Why don't we see?" he says in heavily accented English.

"Yeah, why don't we?" I lay my cards out on the table. "Four of a kind."

"What??" Archer gapes at me. "That's... that's... cheating! You're a fucking dirty cheater!"

I push back my chair as Archer rubs the back of his neck, looking distraught. I point at him. "You lost, asshole. Fair and square. I have no idea how you thought it was a good idea to bet your fucking daughter on such a nothing hand."

Archer winces. "Ouch."

"You think that hurts? Wait till you realize that you're fucking fired."

Archer leans forward, clutching the back of his head, and begins to moan. "It... doesn't... feel... right..."

He lists to the side, and the Iraqi businessman scoots his chair out of the way just in time. Archer falls to the ground, a moan winding its way out of his lungs. "Ohhhoooohhhoh," he says.

Then he goes still.

The dealer is already on his feet, calling to the waitress. He tries to rouse Archer to no avail. "Mr. Gellar?" He kneels down and checks for a pulse. "He's got a pulse but I don't think he's breathing..."

I watch the dealer try to attempt a clumsy version of CPR. But it doesn't matter.

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