He didn't speak much the rest of the game after he lost two or three hands, though as he looked at his cards he realized he had received both a King and Queen of hearts and tossed a hefty sum in the middle of the table. He waited for Annabelle to call or fold as the woman poured herself another glass of the sweet rice wine she was drinking.
They had been discussing who would take over Macguire's old warehouse and consequently the opium trade. Graves, Juan, and Ming bickered back and forth about old betrayals and problems they had with one another but Dutch noted that Annabelle and Trewlany seemed to keep to themselves, listening intently as he was to the conversation.
"How'd you two meet?" He raised an eyebrow as Annabelle mulled over her bet, the other three men busy snarling and snapping at each other while Trewlany stared up at the ceiling.
"Hardly know the man, but his information is trustworthy. He's a bit of a coward though, prefers to weave his webs and keep his ears to the ground rather than hunker down behind cover and fight it out. You know Macguire was planning on selling us out to the government? This, underbelly, of society has rules. A code. We may not always agree on the best way to divvy up the city, we may step on one another's toes from time to time, but we are reluctant allies. A wise man realizes there is strength in numbers, Mr. Van der Linde. I get what I want, they get what they want, and no blood needs to run on the cobblestone streets when we meet up every month. Give and take is the essence of our business. Unlike them, I do not keep a majority of what I mine from these dark streets and alleyways. I have more than enough to live a comfortable lifestyle, buy books, indulge in the riches of this land, but I have never wanted it. I grew up a princess, but chose to become a queen, as the queen can move on any space on the board. I like freedom, Mr. Van der Linde. You like luxury. I can't say I blame you though, growing up the poor child of a couple immigrants trying to climb the ranks and live the American dream." She rubbed her finger along her glass, making it hum slightly as she spoke to him in whispers.
"I do not require the finer things in life." Dutch snorted, watching her play with her glass a while before she called his bet.
"Did they know you had nearly forty thousand dollars stashed in that box, Dutch? I left you, what, a grand maybe? For services rendered. Your little crew may hang on your every word, impressed by your charm and cultured demeanor, but the reality is Mr. Van der Linde, you're greedy. I think you were noble once, truly well-intentioned in your machinations and schemes, but deep down you want more than just a canvas tent and a whore's breasts to rest that weary head upon. You crave an indulgent lifestyle that doesn't quite fit the mask you've made for yourself." She lifted her glass again and drained the milky liquid before grabbing the bottle again.
"You and your forefathers whipped the backs of men like my ancestors for generations, helping yourselves to our mothers, our sisters, and our wives when you couldn't squeeze another cent out of our blood, sweat, and tears. You stalked us like prey to this continent, hungrily eying the sheep as they poured into the warm embrace of a free country. Ready to discard the shackles your forebearers placed on mine, the peasants revolting doesn't sit well with a conniving little bitch like you. You slept on warm and soft feather mattresses while children like me struggled to survive, writhing in the dirt like worms in moldy straw. You consumed the finest products your serfs could provide you while I held my hands out for a crust of stale bread. I despise you, acting like you're some just and benevolent ruler, tenderly kissing the bumps and bruises while fattening me up like a calf to the slaughter. I would rather choke to my death on the hangman's gallows than bury my face in your tits, trying to greedily suckle a teat that produces nothing but poison. You don't know a goddamn thing about me, Annabelle. But I know you're no better than that auctioneer of a sire and that broodmare of a mother. You slid out from the right pair of legs, that's all. You know nothing of suffering, anguish, and being regarded as nothing more than excrement on the street." Dutch hissed in response, his nostrils flaring angrily as the woman poured herself another glass and motioned for the serving girl to come over.
"Get the gentleman a glass, if you would be so kind." She murmured to the girl as she leaned in before disappearing again towards the bar. "You know, Mr. Van der Linde, one of the reasons I became so enamored with you to begin with was your seething hatred of the bourgeoisie. You embodied the true spirit of the American West for a young little thing like me. The struggle of the small man over his conquerors, the men and women who would oppress him and spit on him as he tried to climb the ladder to true freedom, no matter the cost. Yet you have begun becoming the very thing you swore to straggle in the cradle. What happens when you lose them, Dutch, one by one. Your little foot soldiers in your crusade against the wealthy elite like me? When we crush them like ants in front of you."
The girl returned with a glass and set it down next to Dutch as Annabelle went to pour the rice wine into the glass and he snatched her hand. The din of the table suddenly seemed to silence as the kingpins all paused to look at him squeezing her wrist and chewing his cheeks.
"Are you threatening me now?" He growled as she allowed him to maintain a firm grip of her wrist at the table. He heard the telltale clicks of bullets being loaded and he realized the other men sitting with them now had weapons trained on him. It wasn't just the men but he realized the girls attending to them had also revealed hidden weapons and he snarled, still keeping a tight grip on her wrist as he felt her pulse beat against his finger tips.
"Our newest member has a bit of a temper," She smirked and turned to the other men at the table, chastising them, "I thought we agreed to be unarmed, gentlemen."
"My lady, what man doesn't keep a few cards up his sleeve? Hmmm?" Trelawny removed his top hat and pulled a cattleman revolver from it and set it on the table. The other men slowly did the same as Dutch released his grip on her wrist. The red marks would eventually be bruises, she realized, not wanting to rub the injury as she poured whatever she had been drinking into the empty glass. She pushed it towards him with one hand and turned back to Ming who nodded, prompting the girls to put their weapons away.
"Gentlemen, we have more than just Macguire to discuss this evening. You see, it seems that some of our more refined citizens believe that they're above lowly drug lords like us. I'm sure you're aware of Mr. Atkinson's feeble attempts to bend the city's fine citizens to his most noble and puritanical cause. Introducing a law that would make prostitution, gambling, and imbibing illegal within the city limits. An unfair law that would surely disrupt poor Ming and Juan's little operations and make the poor doctors of Mad Wife alley rather cross when they can't dispense their miracle cures for pregnancy. If the government is allowed to intervene in our private affairs, I'm afraid I might find the Pinkerton's standing around while I'm bent over my desk being ridden like an unbroken mare just to ensure what I'm engaging in is for procreation and not pleasure. Do any of you want to be caught in the throes of passion, with a lawman watching you while you writhe around on some poor girl to preserve the 'sanctity' of sexual congress?" She lifted her glass, the red fingertip markings standing out on her wrist as she did so.
"And how do you propose to entice the man into giving into his untapped desires? The man cannot be persuaded by conventional means to give up his crusade against sin." Juan sneered, lifting his glass of dark smoky mezcal.
"He is unbuyable, Annabelle. Graves and I have already tried several times to encourage him to play 'nice with others'. He has your esteemed social circles eating like eager hounds out of his hands. Ready to wage war against our businesses. Unless," Ming shot a look at Dutch and smirked, "you're planning on having your beau repeat how he disposed of Macguire?"
"Robin Hood can decide for himself whether he wants to indulge us in coming up with something of substance to knock the wind of that pious man's sails. This rich, slick, alligator attorney knows our faces. Knows who we are, what we do, and how to hurt our coin purses. You know he won't even accept an invitation from me because of you three? If he manages to pass this little bill he's been proposing about cutting down on sin, we're all going to be caught with our pants down, except perhaps Trelawny who will undoubtedly slither away on his belly back to his wagon and disappear." Annabelle paused to take a drink from her glass but kept a finger on her free hand pointed up to gesture that she wasn't quite done with her thoughts. "Whores don't work, money doesn't work, and bribes don't work. We've got four months to figure out how to stop his bill from becoming a reality. And this sort of puritanical bullshit won't end with the five, no offense Trewlany, us."
"Four." Dutch folded his arms, leaning back in his chair.
"I wouldn't be so quick to turn your nose up at the pot, Mr. Van der Linde." Trelawny chuckled as Ming finally placed his wager and Juan and Grimes folded angrily. Josiah had folded out of the game already as the girl leaned over and set down three cards, slowly flopping them over revealing a Jack, ten, and nine of hearts. Dutch knew already he had a straight flush as he had the King and Queen of hearts in his hands and pushed his chips into the center of the table with a chuckle.
"Money isn't everything, Mr. Trelawny." He snickered as he sank back in his chair.
"Huh." Annabelle eyed the all in proposition Dutch had slid into the middle of the table, lifting her glass again and finishing off the sweet milky rice wine.
"Well?" Dutch gestured to the pile of blue, gold, and red chips on the table.
"You have either a straight or a straight flush. I'm of noble lineage but I'm not stupid." Annabelle tossed her cards face up and folded, sinking back into her seat and staring at the Ace of Spades and King of Clubs she had been holding.
"Fold." Ming tossed his cards down bitterly. He had been bluffing and both Juan and Graves scoffed angrily, they wouldn't have beaten Dutch but they certainly had a better hand.
"To the victor go the spoils." Dutch grinned as he pulled the chips back towards him and began stacking them neatly.
—-
The poker game ended after several rounds and they had taken to smoking now, with Ming having two women on either side of him while Juan was busy making out with another. Graves had left, having lost most of the game they had played. Leaving only Trelawny, Dutch, and Annabelle playing a game of BS with each other as Ming and Juan were preoccupied.
"Two sixes." Annabelle said as she tossed two cards face down and Dutch rubbed his upper lip. He thought back to the fact that Trelawny had also played two sixes earlier and he knew that he had two himself sitting in his stack of cards.
"Bullshit." Dutch chuckled as Annabelle finished the last of the bottle and went to reach for the glass she had poured him earlier.
"Pick it up, Van der Linde." She barely made contact with the glass when he swatted her hand away from it.
"I said. Bull. Shit." He stared at her intensely with dark eyes and took a sip of the now warm rice wine and grimaced. It was sweet, too sweet and he gagged on it a little but managed to swallow. Annabelle rolled her eyes to reveal that she had indeed put down two sixes causing Dutch to scoff bitterly.
"You know," she leaned back into her own chair as one of the girls brought her another jug of rice wine, "you're not that great at reading your opponent. Trelawny's main tell is twirling his mustache."
"Hey!" Trelawny looked hurt for a moment before he smiled as Dutch picked up the pile of cards between them.
"Noted." Dutch grumbled, sorting the cards in his hand as Annabelle poured herself another drink.
"One two." Trelawny went next, setting down a single card between them as Dutch peered up over his cards and noticed the man was twirling his mustache. He tried to look through his hand but couldn't find any twos in his stack.
"Really? One card, Trelawny?" Annabelle raised an eyebrow angrily as she sipped on her glass. He only had three cards left, Annabelle had six, and Dutch had what felt like the entire deck.
"Bull–" Dutch began but Annabelle held a hand up and stared at the man across the table with a mean and stern look.
"Look." Trelawny flipped it over revealing a two of spades and snickered.
"I knew you were up to no good." Annabelle smirked and tossed out a second identical card on top of his. The well dressed man chuckled nervously and went to pick them up, his eyes darting to the other men who were preoccupied at the moment, hoping they hadn't noticed he had been cheating.
"My, my, would you look at the time." Trelawny pulled out a watch and tossed his cards down, standing up and straightening his suit before popping his hat on and running a finger over the brim.
"See you next month?" Annabelle asked as he nodded his head to the other men to say goodbye.
"Perhaps." Trelawny bowed to her before quickly striding out of the room, still anxiously eyeing the two men who were engaged in the company of their whores. Annabelle nudged Dutch with her elbow and he tossed the cards back down onto the table.
"Do you still play chess?" She asked as she threw her own cards down and leaned on her elbows, wrapping her fingers into her scalp and scratching her head a bit.
"Who says I play chess?" Dutch snorted, gesturing for the waitress to take the warm thick milky drink from him.
"Huh. I guess it's Mr. Matthews then." She finished her drink by knocking it back and shook her curls.
"You're the one who's been messing with my game. Sneaking into my bedroom are we–" Dutch began. There was a chess board that had been set up on one of the tables in the lush bedroom. He had been playing himself for a while when he realized that where he had left the black pieces the night before wasn't always where they stayed. He had accused Susan of messing with him, but he wasn't sure if the woman knew how to play or not. She vehemently denied it and for a long while he figured she simply was trying to play with him without saying so.
"Only when you both are away. It's my apartment, Mr. Van der Linde. Besides, I don't know how I'd feel watching you huff and puff on top of that busty whore. I'd have challenged you outright, but you and I aren't exactly friendly. And I've been trying to respect your whole weird monogamous relationship with an ex-prostitute, though I'm not entirely sure why. She's good for you, I think, puts you in your place." Annabelle teased, looking over at him through curls that had fallen in her face.
"I didn't know a pretty little decoration like you knew how to play." He folded his arms as she pushed her curls out of the way and nudged at her glass with her fingertips.
"I wasn't aware that little peasants were even aware of the game. Where did you learn how to play during all that writhing around in the dirt?" She smirked, feeling her left shoulder ache a moment as she put a hand over the place where she had been bandaged.
"Perhaps Mr. Trelawny is right and it's quite late." Dutch yawned, stretching himself in his chair as he debated making his own exit.
"Your pretty little bitch will be anxious if you don't get to bed on time, huh?" Annabelle pushed the glass away from her and stood up, stretching.
"Oh and I suppose you're not fatigued?" Dutch asked, watching her breasts nearly pop out of her low cut dress.
"Oh I am, I was just debating on stopping by for a nightcap on the way home. Goodnight, Mr. Van der Linde." She went to retrieve her gloves from the side of the table when she felt his hand sneak into the small of her back.
"What are you playing at now, little viper? Puffing me up into a position of power and prestige to conspire with fools like the ones at the end of the table there. Don't tell me you still have feelings for me." Dutch slid his hand away as Annabelle stretched her neck from side to side for a moment, before she tossed the gloves away and turned to lean on his shoulders and whisper in his ear.
"You can either climb the ladder in front of you or disregard it. You did this to yourself when you and that little streetwalker tried to kill me. I am a powerful woman in this town, Mr. Van der Linde, you are a lowly worm beneath my boot. I'm giving you an opportunity to prove you're more than just a schemer and America's most expensive whore." She straightened up and retrieved her belongings from one of the girls, carefully lifting her shoe and stepping on the free space between his legs as she slid the white handled revolver back into it's hiding space.
"That belongs to me." Dutch hissed, keeping his arms folded as she put her dress down and her shoe back on the floor.
"It did. Once. Come up with something intelligent to take out Atkinson and I might return it to you." She bowed her head to Juan and Ming who paused in their passions to bid her a goodnight. "Mr. Van der Linde." She curtsied and he nodded his head.
"Annabelle."
—-
He lay awake with Susan tucked under his arm, the other resting behind his head as he looked up at the white ceiling. His mind drifted over and over again as to why he had been invited as a guest to the kingpin party the week earlier. His woman stirred in his arms, sliding her hand across his chest and playing with a few unruly chest hairs in her finger tips. He bit his lip, closing his eyes and heaving a rather dissatisfied sigh as he put his hand over Susans and rubbed her fingertips with his.
"What's on your mind?" Grimshaw asked as she opened her eyes and giggled.
"Nothing." He snorted, removing his hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose before exhaling loudly.
"Dutch, what's wrong. You've been pensive and broody as a hen since you came back from that night at the gambling hall." Susan propped herself up with an elbow and stared stroking his hair as she stared down at him.
"I just have a lot on my mind." He murmured, rolling over away from her and staring at the chessboard on the table for a moment.
"It's her, isn't it?" Susan folded her arms as she lay on her back, staring up at the stark white ceiling angrily.
"We're not doing this. It's too early to fight over some dumb rich cunt. Go back to bed,Susan." Dutch put a pillow over his head and closed his eyes again.
"Don't talk to me like that, Dutch Van der Linde." Susan sat up in bed and elbowed him in the ribs, she probably meant for it to seem playful but he winced a bit as she had directly hit him between the ribs and he snapped his eyes open and chewed on his lip.
"Susan, I'm not in the mood." Dutch growled as he rubbed a hand over where she had struck him.
"When will you be!" She scoffed, sliding out from under the covers in her underdress.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" He rolled back and tossed the pillow off of his face as the woman tried to pick at her nightclothes.
"You've been cold. Distant. We need to get out of here. She's fucking with you and I hate it. The fancy clothes, the ridiculous romance novels she keeps leaving in here, the fucking," she gestured to the chess board, "games. You wanna ride her, Dutch? Then ride her!"
"Just who the hell do you think you are? Coming at me like I'm some kind of scumbag fooling around with some child. 'Do I want to ride her'? I'd rather put my cock in a bear trap than wake up to that bitch next to me. You're jealous. That's exactly what she wants. You're the one making this a bigger molehill than it is, sweetheart. You won't even look at me when I do that thing you like!" Dutch threw off the covers and went to find his drawers, slipping them on angrily as he began to pace the room.
"My feelings are valid, Mr. Van der Linde! Don't try to sweet talk me like I'm some dumb half brained whore with more cunt than sense! I have been faithful to you. Yet you indulge this goddamn 'child' in her games. She'll be the end of the gang, Dutch. Mark my words! Turning you against all of us!" Susan shouted, retreating to the privacy screen to look for something to put on.
"I am trapped like a goddamn rat just as much as the rest of you! You wanna talk about feelings, Sue? What about my goddamn feelings! You think I enjoy being a prisoner here! She is turning us against each other, that's what she does!" Dutch snarled, kicking the table with the chess board on it over as the pieces scattered to the four winds.
"You think I'm too stupid to see you're relishing it? The fancy booze, the nice clothes, the luxurious accommodations, and fucking books! She's got you wriggling around on her line like a catfish, anxiously awaiting the moment you surface so she can put her claws into you! I've begged you for days now! Let's leave and never look back! So why are we still here, Dutch!" Susan began furiously buttoning her dress as Dutch slunk around the corner and grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair and snapped her head back to look at him.
"No one owns me! Not her, not you, and not any other warm and wet pussy I happen to stumble into!" He seethed even as Susan clutched at her own hair and tried to pull away from him. He was so angry he didn't even hear the door open but he heard the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered and the feeling of steel in the back of his head.
"That ain't a nice way to treat a lady, Mr. Van der Linde." He laughed as he recognized the cold voice of Annabelle and knew it was her that held his own revolver to his head. He let go of Susan who hurriedly buttoned up her dress and scowled with tears in her eyes at the woman standing behind her lover holding him at gunpoint.
"Annabelle. We were just talking about you. Your ears must've been burning."
"On your knees you fucking pathetic urchin." She hissed and he obeyed, dropping to his knees and putting his arms behind his head. "Miss Grimshaw, I realize you have very little respect for me. But when I called you my sister, I meant what I said. Get out. I have business with your boyfriend."
"I'll fucking tear you to pieces!" Susan went to retrieve a shotgun she had stashed behind the privacy screen but Annabelle moved the gun off Dutch and onto her.
"You can test that hypothesis at your leisure." Annabelle was dressed in riding clothes, the type you might see on an English man but perfectly tailored and fitted to her body. Her dark brown braid fell past her bust and curled slightly at the end, she put the gun back to the base of Dutch's skull and kneed him in the back, stepping her black riding boot in between his shoulder blades and making him grovel on the floor.
"This is why we shouldn't have women in the gang." Arthur grumbled as he entered the room with a rifle held up against his shoulder, pointing it at Annabelle.
"Mr. Morgan, take poor Mrs. Van der Linde for a walk to cool her head." The girl didn't take her eyes off of Susan as she kept the silver gunmetal crammed into the small of their leader's neck.
"Miss Annabelle, I take my orders from Dutc–" Arthur began but Hosea had placed a hand on his shoulder and gestured to both him and Miss Grimshaw to follow him out of the room.
"She ain't gonna bite, are you," he retrieved his own pistol and pointed it at the girl who had Dutch's face practically pinned to the floor, "little lady?"
She scoffed, stepping off of Dutch and keeping her thumb on the hammer as she gently squeezed the trigger and slowly let the hammer touch back.
"Of course not."