Kit & Rogue (The Sons of Dusty Walker) Read Online Free Page B

I’m not sure if they’d want me to join in.”
    “Shoot, they’d be honored. Has anyone recognized you yet?” Rogue asked Dylan, noticing several young women watching them closely. “I bet you have fans here.”
    Shaking his head, Dylan slapped Killian on the back. “One woman asked Killian for my autograph. I’d say having you three around is like the King showing up at an Elvis impersonator convention, it’s hard to tell the real thing when you see it.”
    Killian frowned. “Hey, she said I looked more like you than you do.”
    “How about another round?” Jackson spoke up.
    “Hell yeah!” Rogue motioned for a waitress to keep them coming. He reached in his vest pocket for the deck of cards he was never without, laying them on the table.
    “Hey, how do we know those aren’t marked? You may be a card shark for all we know.” Dylan teased with a wink.
    Jackson propped both elbows on the table. “I think the term is cardsharp, bro.”
    Rogue began to shuffle the cards. “Actually, you’re both right. Sharp is the British choice and shark has become common in the states over the years. The word was actually schurke in German and meant swindler, which…” He raised an eyebrow at his brothers, “I’m not. My reputation is sterling in the gambling world. Having skill doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t have morals.” Rogue smiled big. “Ready?” he began to hum Kenny Roger’s famous song, “got to know when to hold’em…”
    “Don’t start that!” Jackson warned. “Dylan’s the musician in the family.” There was good-hearted grumbling, but the game began. Cards were dealt, bets were made and there was more laughter than money exchanged. Rogue was surprised what a good time he had with his brothers. They attracted a crowd of onlookers, mostly women who stood around, cheering them on.
    “You know what I feel like?” Jackson whispered for the Walker brothers’ ears only.
    “What?” Rogue asked, intrigued.
    Jackson tentatively looked over his shoulder. “With all the attention we’re getting, I feel like one of those dogs in those paintings, you know the ones where they’re sitting around a table wearing people clothes and playing poker.” 
    “Speak for yourself,” Dylan laughed. “I’m no dog and I don’t mind the attention.”
    Rogue didn’t either, but he felt funny. Something was up. A shiver kept going up and down his spine. Someone was watching him, and it wasn’t the friendly group that was hanging around the table. It was something else. “Why don’t we take a break?” He snagged one of the waitresses as they went by. “Tell your manager we have an up and coming country star here. See if they’ll let my brother, Dylan, play a tune or two with the band. I guarantee they won’t be sorry.”
    Rogue watched while the waitress delivered his message. Soon the owner came out of his office, climbed on the stage, and whispered to a member of the band. The lead singer nodded enthusiastically and motioned toward Dylan. Making an announcement, the owner called for silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, give me your attention. We have a special treat for you. Dylan Walker is in the house. He plays a mean guitar. Dylan, come play for us!” There was a general round of applause and in a few minutes, Dylan was onstage wowing everyone with his talent on the electric guitar.
    “Hey, he’s really good.” Jackson remarked with pride, taking a swig of beer.
    Rogue and Killian nodded their agreement. “He sure is,” Rogue agreed. As Dylan finished one song, the saloon customers demanded an encore, which he gladly gave. All the while Rogue felt pinpricks of unease on his back, like laser points from a hunting rifle. Occasionally, he’d glance around, seeing no one or nothing that he thought could be making him feel like a sniper was honing in on him.
    After Dylan finished, he returned to the table and the cards were put aside. No one had been cleaned out, and no one would walk away