Clearing his throat with authority, Bennett asked, “Do we really look to you like two men who would find thrill in winning five hundred dollars?”

Kim, who was somehow both much larger and less intimidating than Hammer because of the rubies in both of his ears, lurched forward, slamming his fists down on the table, making the entire fucking room shake. I couldn’t help but notice that Bennett barely flinched at all. I sure as hell jumped; I’d been convinced the metal table was going to collapse on our legs.

“You think this is your motherfucking mommy’s house?” Kim growled, his voice as low and gravelly as Hammer’s was girlish. “You think you’re playing Go Fish at a fucking linoleum table?”

Bennett sat motionless, his face impassive.

The man turned to me, eyebrows raised as if I was meant to speak for both of us.

“No,” I said, giving my best, relaxed smile. “If we were at my mum’s house we would have been offered chips and Guinness.”

Ignoring my wisecrack, Hammer stepped forward. “What do you think the house does when we get card counters in here?”

“Mate, I wouldn’t know how to count cards even if I was trained by fucking Rain Man. The repercussions are beyond me.”

“You think you’re funny?”

I sat back in my chair, exhaling heavily. This was pants. “I think I’m baffled. I lost all my chips. Even if we were counting cards, we’re not exactly good at it, so I can’t quite suss out what we’re doing here.”

“The best counters let themselves lose sometimes. You think by counting you’ll only ever win?”

I sighed, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my knees. This was going nowhere with the continued rhetorical questions. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Hammer looked surprised, straightening. “Go.”

“I’ve never played blackjack in my life before tonight. This one?” I said, nodding to Bennett. “He negotiates drink prices when we’re sitting at a table and they’re already free. He doesn’t fucking gamble.”

Snorting, Kim said, “And yet here you are, in a two-deck pitch, you stand on s-seventeen, double after split.”

Bennett leaned forward, genuinely curious. “Was that English?”

For the first time since we walked in here, I saw the corner of Kim’s lips twitch as if repressing a smile. Or a snarl. I couldn’t actually be sure.

“I’m going to give you two choices,” Hammer said. “One, I break your fingers. Or two, I break your face.”

I blinked, feeling a brief moment of pride that I had correctly predicted our punishment. But something felt off. Just because I hadn’t played blackjack in Vegas before didn’t mean I had been living under a rock. Finger-and face-breaking seemed a touch off-protocol for a couple of guys suspected of counting cards.

“Let’s see your hands,” Kim said, patting the table.