Prologue

"Aces are larger than life and greater than mountains." (Mike Caro)

Gramercy Park, Manhattan 1903

Racetrack Higgins grunted as he hauled the dead weight of his unconscious best friend up the front steps of an enormous house. "Deah me, ya a heavy sonovabitch." Race growled out, finally managing to get Scott Renwick to his front door. Scott groaned as he hit the ground and Race bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Though Scott looked thin and wiry, he was damn heavy when out cold and it didn't help that Race was a bit inebriated himself.

Using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead, Race leaned over to search through Scott's pockets for the key to his house. "When did I sign on ta be the babysittah of some punk-ass rich boy?" He muttered irritably with the slightest touch of affection as his fingers closed around the cool silver of the key and he brought it out with a flourish. "Beautiful." He said quietly and obviously to himself as the only other person to hear was insensible from the number of drinks he'd consumed.

Fumbling in the dark, Race cursed a few times before finally finding the key hole and easily opening the front door to the shadowy, silent mansion. He sincerely believed there was such a thing as too big as he kicked the door open and began to drag his friend over the doorstep. The front lobby alone was the size of his apartment but it was the quietness of the house that sent shivers up his spine. He was beginning to get freaked out from it as he pulled Scott all the way through the door.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark and when they had, he could just make out a grand staircase in front of him, "Well, kid. I'm afraid ya on ya own." He whispered down at the still form. Of course, it would be wrong for him to just leave his friend in the middle of the foyer where his parents would find him in the morning…but, there was no way he was dragging Scott up those stairs half-sloshed.

Before he could leave, a figure in white appeared in front of him quick as lightning and he felt the tip of a knife pressed to his throat through the rather foggy, buzzed state of his mind. He groaned, "Just what I need." Pausing, he squinted at the person in front of him, unable to make out any facial features as he muttered, "Hey, I ain't got two nickels ta rub tagethah. Rob the house, not the guy standin' in the doorway."

A small gasp had the person press the knife a little harder and he winced as the voice broke the silence of the house, "How dare you!" She whispered fiercely, for it was, in fact, a female, "Come into my home and accuse me of robbing you when it is obvious you've attacked my brother here and plan to rob us."

Surprised, he stared down at the petite figure in front of him. Granted, he wasn't the tallest by any means but this girl was tiny, "Rob ya?" He asked, stupidly. He'd only had a few more than Scott tonight but at least he could hold his, "Why would I rob ya brothah and then bring him home?"

A pause, "To then rob the house, of course!" She exclaimed, rather triumphantly.

He wanted to chuckle, but feared for his throat, "Why would I tell someone else ta rob ya if I planned ta do the job myself?"

The girl was quiet again, thinking over what he had said as he silently patted himself on the back. Even flagged as he was, he could still outwit anyone, "Well," She began before sudden inspiration struck, "I'm not a robber so I don't plan to rob my own house therefore you obviously were thinking about it."

Racetrack slowly raised his hands in defense, "Aha, but I wasn't plannin' on robbin' ya, sweetheaht."

"Then why, pray tell, are you in my house?" Through the dark, he could just make out the curve of her neck as she tossed her hair back arrogantly.

He rolled his eyes, "Because, dollface, I just practically carried ya brother from Harlem ta get him home like he asked, I'm not about ta rob his house. Be kinda obvious to him who did when he wakes up, now wouldn't it? Now, if ya don't mind I'd like ta get back ta my apartment so I can catch some of my own sleep."

Slowly, she lowered the knife and took a step forward to peer up in his face, "Why, I actually believe you." She said, sounding incredulous.

At her step forward, her features that were only a hazy outline before came into sharp focus and Race felt his mouth drop open slightly. She was stunning, her long hair hanging down her back in untidy curls was a color akin to brown, perhaps, but with the lack of any real light he couldn't tell exactly what color. The same for her eyes, except he could tell that they were a light color, a nice contrast to her hair. Her nose was tiny, her mouth wide and full and as she looked at him in the dark he murmured, without thought, "Well, I can't believe anyone would give you a knife."

Perhaps it was the liquor impairing his judgment or the look of sudden anger that dawned on her face at his words but whatever it was it made him dip his head down to capture her lips before she could speak. As easy as breathing, he rested his hands on her hips and pulled her closer, thoroughly enjoying her soft lips against his own.

What surprised him most was that instead of giving him a swift kick to the groin like most women would have, she actually slipped her arms around his neck and began to kiss him back as the sound of the knife's clatter to the marble floor whispered in the background. He groaned against her lips, pulling her tighter so that her body, only clothed in a thin nightgown and wrap, was practically melded against his own. Her soft lips moved against his and she tasted sweetly of lavender with just the smallest hint of warm vanilla. As her body pressed against his he had the sudden urge to just lay her down in the middle of the floor here and ravish her.

Before he could make good on his thoughts, a snort followed by a groan startled the two of them so much so that they sprang apart as if a fire had been set between them.

Scott shifted in his sleep but otherwise continued to dream, soft snores beginning to echo around the entrance hall as Race looked over at the girl in front of him. Dawning horror began to creep over him as his buzz began to fade and he realized he'd just had a passionate kiss with none other than Scott's own twin sister, Clara Renwick.

Not only was she his best friend's sister, she also happened to be engaged.

He stood there a moment longer, wondering if there was anything he could say that would make this less awkward. When nothing came to mind, he tossed Scott's key onto his friend's back and beat it out of the house faster than you could say, 'poker.'

A/N: And so, it begins. Review!

Truly,

Joker is Poker with a J~

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. Everything you DO recognize belong to their respective owners.