Page 76 of Ruined

“Where?”

“Blackjack table five. Kid’s been skimming chips. Security caught it on camera.”

I ground my teeth. “How bad?”

The supervisor hesitated. “He’s young. Looks like a first-timer. Couple of grand, maybe.”

I picked up my pace. The crowd parted as I approached, my presence enough to make even the drunkest gamblers steer clear.

When we reached the table, the kid was already cornered. Security had him hemmed in, a wiry thing who couldn’t have been older than twenty. His hands twitched at his sides. The supervisor gestured to the guards.

“Found the chips in his jacket. Wanted to wait for your call before taking him to the back.”

I raised a hand. “No need. I’ve got it.”

The guards exchanged glances but stepped back.

I fixed the kid with a cool stare. “Name?”

He swallowed hard. “B-Benny.”

“Benny. You want to tell me what happened here?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. It was stupid.”

I tilted my head. “Interesting excuse. You pick that up in school?”

“I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t mean?—”

“Sorry doesn’t fix the problem. You think you can just walk in here, skim off my table? Do you know who you’re stealing from?”

He shook his head violently.

I leaned in, my face inches from his. “The Costas.”

Benny paled. “I—I didn’t know.”

“That’s your first mistake. Walking into my casino without knowing whose territory you’re on. Your second mistake? Thinking you could pull this off. And your third?” I nodded to the chips spilling out of his jacket pocket. “Thinking I’d let you walk out of here with that.”

He trembled so hard his knees almost buckled. Benny looked like he’d fall apart if I raised my voice. I studied him, taking in the dirty sneakers, the threadbare hoodie, the way his hair stuck up like he’d just rolled out of bed. He wasn’t a mole sent by another family. Probably Section 8 housing. Maybe he had a little brother to feed. I shoved that aside. Benny wasn’t my problem, and this wasn’t a charity.

“You work for a street gang?”

He shook his head. “I needed the money.”

I exhaled slowly. “You walk out of here, and you never come back. Understand?”

He nodded again, tearing up.

I stepped back. “Good. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

The kid bolted, weaving through the crowd. The floor supervisor stepped forward, eyeing the pile of chips.

“What do you want to do with these?”

“Count ’em, log ’em, and reset the table,” I said, turning away. “And keep an eye out. If there’s one idiot, there’s always more.”

The floor supervisor nodded, grabbing the chips as I strode off. Rounding a corner, I slammed into someone. A man with honey blond hair backed up.