“You’re counting cards and we don’t allow that here. You need to get up and follow me. Now.”

“Counting cards!” Her voice went high, carrying over the cavernous room. “I am not counting cards. It’s pure skill. I have no need to cheat.”

He took hold of her elbow and roughly pulled her to her feet. “No woman has this much skill, not without cheating. I’ve been watching, remember. Come along.”

“But you’re wrong.” She tried to grab at her chips, but the floor manager nodded to the dealer.

“Take those chips back. She won’t be needing them.”

“Those are my winnings!” Now she was shouting, digging her heels into the old pine to prevent him from towing her out of the room. Only, he was stronger and her resistance meant little more than an annoyance. Where was her sister? Swinging her head about, Florence searched for Mamie.

“Stop right there!” Mamie yelled, closing in quickly. “Unhand my sister.”

“You’re her sister?” The man turned and waited for Mamie. “Then you can come along, as well. Both of you.”

Mamie exchanged a concerned glance with Florence before lifting her chin in that imperious way she had. Mamie was downright regal when she chose to be. “Where are you taking us?”

“You’ll see.”

Florence struggled to free her arm from the man’s grasp. “Let me cash in my chips and I’ll leave, I swear.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, miss.”

“Dash it, release me.” She tried to kick his leg but her damned skirts hampered her. “This is outrageous. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Tell it to Donnelly.”

He dragged her over the threshold, a locomotive sweeping her along for the ride. Her pleas and attempts to get free were for naught. When they reached the end of the hall, he opened the door and practically tossed Florence inside. Mamie came in right behind her, thank God. Florence didn’t think these men would hurt her, but she was grateful to not be alone.

“What do we have here?” A man stood up from behind the desk. Large stacks of money were spread out over the surface, more bills than Florence had ever seen in one place.

“Donnelly, we got ourselves a card counter.”

“No, I never—”

“This little thing?” Donnelly drew closer, a slow smile emerging as his dark gaze raked Florence from head to toe. His lips were dry and cracked, with dried spittle around the edges. His nose spoke of overindulgence in spirits. Fear sprinted along her veins. “I don’t care much for cheaters in my club.”

“I wasn’t cheating.” Why would no one believe her? “I just happen to be very good at twenty-one.”

“So good that she was up four hundred on Biddle.”

Donnelly’s smile faded as his brows flew up. “Four hundred? Jesus fuck, that’s a lot of money.”

“It’s how Biddle knew she was cheating.”