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“Didn’t want one.”
“Bullshit. You were born smoking. You set fire to your mother’s pussy on the way out.”
“Maybe I’m leaving my hands free for other things these days, like breaking your jaw for asking too many questions.” To prove the point, I take a skinny matchstick out of my back pocket and slide it in between my teeth.
“Well at least you’ll have a light for when you fall off the wagon,” he observes dryly.
Stepping onto Encore’s main floor, he whistles in appreciation at the refurbished casino. “I like it. I’m not sure your dealer’s old enough to shark the cards, though.” He jerks his head to where Bambi’s sat at her favourite roulette table, head bent over her laptop again.
“That’s Viper’s kid.”
“Who’s Viper?”
“Me,” says a voice behind us. “You must be the Crimson King of Monaco.”
Aiden laughs. “I prefer King Midas, but it didn’t work out so well for him. Besides, red is more relatable to our line of work.” He holds out his hand. “Aiden Knight. Danny Razor, I presume?”
“Was. I killed that name sometime in the last decade.” He looks him up and down, taking in his black Brioni and Patek Philippe. “Must be pricey being a grown-up.”
I can tell Viper likes him, though. Most people like Raven until he’s pointing a gun at their head. He’s not shy about pulling the trigger, either.
“You tell me. You’re the one with the kid already. What’s your baby snake called?”
“Bambi. My niece’s daughter. Mother checked out a couple of years ago.”
I yank the matchstick from my teeth. “I thought you said she was your cousin’s kid?”
Something flickers behind Viper’s eyes. It’s the movement of a spider’s web when an insect gets trapped in its web.“Drink?” He directs this more at Aiden than at me.
“Depends on what you’re offering. Last time I was in London, I was still drinking Guinness. My taste has improved immeasurably since then.”
“So has your taste in women,” I mutter.
Leaving them chatting by the bar, I wander over to say hi to Bambi who slams her laptop lid down as I approach, narrowing her eyes at me and chewing her bubble gum defiantly. Her pink hair looks like fairground candy floss tonight. She must have dyed it again.
Lifting my eyebrows, I hold up the matchstick in my hand. “Trying.”
Blushing slightly, she opens up her laptop again and spins it around to show me. “Trying, too.”
It’s a website for some BBC learning channel, and she’s in the middle of a maths tutorial about trigonometry.
Replacing the matchstick in my mouth, ignoring the clenched fist inside my chest, I take a seat opposite her. “Does it make sense?”
She glares at me for daring to ask her that, and then her shoulders slump, and she’s shaking her head in defeat.
“Want me to talk to Viper about getting you a tutor?”
She glances over at the bar and considers this for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Think he’d go for it?”
“He will, if I’m the one who’s asking.”
“Did you see dance lady earlier?”
What thefuck? “Are you psychic now?”
“I installed a tracking device on your iPhone,” she admits, looking guilty. “I checked it after you left the house. The icon placed you in the same town as before, so I figured—”
“Don’t.” My tone is ice-cold as I reach into my pocket and toss my iPhone onto the red felt. “Delete it right now.”
