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“Aww, the little scaredy cat is finally joining us,” the dickhead says.
“Don’t be a wise guy,” his buddy says, examining his cards. My ears perk up, because the dickhead’s friend used the phrase “wise guy” in the second round.
“I can’t help it.” The dickhead smirks.
“Yeah, you’re a funny guy,” the friend remarks.
“Fold,” I say when it gets back around to me, and the men have another laugh at my expense. I’m hemorrhaging cash, but it’s worth it because I think I’ve figured out their game.
“Little fish, don’t tell me you’re scared of all these big, bad sharks?” The loudmouth taunts. “Here we are being very nice.”
“Nah, the little fish was just swimming along until she figured out how you were cheating. ‘Nice’ means you have a King; you added the word ‘very,’ and that means you have two Kings.” Looking over to his buddy, I say, “And this ‘funny guy’ just drew a five to go with his wise guy Jack.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the dickhead says dismissively.
“Oh, you mean the big, bad shark doesn’t want to share the code words he and his buddy use to cheat?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Doll face, you sure?” The man beside me asks, eyeing down the cheaters at the table.
“Tapping the glass sure,” I say with a smirk; a phrase meaning don’t scare the shitty players. And these shitty players should be fucking scared of being caught cheating in a mob-run house.
“Bitch, you’d better shut your lying mouth.” The dickhead slams down his fist.
“Let’s see your cards.” Fabio appears out of nowhere. He’s flanked by two soldiers I recognize in passing.
“Mr. Mazza?—”
“Last chance. Let’s see your cards,” Fabio warns.
The man reluctantly turns over his hand—lookie there, two Kings. “It’s just a coincidence,” he starts, but Fabio holds up his hand, silencing him.
His buddy turns over his cards, revealing a five of Hearts and a Jack of Spades.
“Sal and Mike, please escort these two gentlemen downstairs. I’ll be with them shortly,” Fabio says.
The dickhead gives me a death glare as he rises from the table. His buddy likewise stands and trails behind his friend like a dog tucking his tail as both men are escorted out.
“Gentlemen, I apologize. You’ll be comped for the evening,” Fabio tells the two remaining men at the table.
“What about me, Mr. Mazza?” I bat my eyelashes.
“Doll face, don’t let anyone call you a little fish; you’re a big, bad shark,” the man beside me interjects with a chuckle.
“The Shark. I like that.” And now I have my future pit boss nickname.
Chapter
Eleven
Fabio
Just when I think I couldn’t be more obsessed with Katerina, she proves me wrong. Smiling, I make my way to the storage closet that’s been converted into a holding cell for unruly patrons.
Scanning my hand, the door opens and I step inside to find a grizzly scene—both men’s throats are slit, with blood splattered everywhere. “What the fuck?”
“What’s the problem?” Sal asks, confused.
“I didn’t tell you to kill them!” Not before I interrogated them first about their scam.
