Page 95 of The Enforcer's Revenge

“That wasn’t real,” Carlo argued with both of them. “That’s a lie.”

“He’s fucking with you. If he was actually lying, you wouldn’t know it,” Nova said reasonably in Italian and then barked in English, “Are you gonna bet or what?”

Carlo scowled at Tino like he wasn’t sure. Then he glanced at his cards once more and decided, “Yeah, I’ll see your twenty and raise you ten.”

Tino winced, but he stayed quiet—about a lot of things.

By the time Tony got back, Carlo was pissed about something totally different than Tony’s sexual history.

“You are a cheater. You have to be a fucking cheater. You just threw away three fucking cards, and somehow you made a straight flush. That’s bullshit.”

“How else is someone supposed to get a straight flush in this game?” Nova asked while he sat there happily straightening out his money. “You deal the cards, I throw some away, and then you deal me more. That’s how I make my hand. There’s not a secret extra step to making a straight flush that you missed seeing.”

“And why doesn’t he ever lose two hundred bucks?” Carlo pointed at Tino. “He’s in on it.”

Nova laughed. “You’re dealing, paisan.”

“Why don’t you just fold when I fold?” Tino suggested.

“’Cause you always fucking fold!”

“And that’s why I don’t lose two hundred bucks every hand.” Tino took his coffee and gave Tony a genuine smile, pleased now that he had a fresh one. “Grazie.”

“We could switch to seven-card stud if you’re so pissed off about it.” Nova gave him a dark smile. “Then you can see most of my cards.”

“Fuck you,” Carlo growled. “Only a fucking moron plays seven-card stud with you.” He took the drink Tony put in front of him and mumbled, “Grazie.”

“For the Zu.” Tony put the tallest cup in front of Nova. “Jamaican Blue Mountain. Black.”

“Perfect,” Nova said, like he could tell the difference. “Grazie. We’ll let Tony pick the next game.”

Tony sat down between Tino and Nova, a large cup in his hand, and took a long drink. “I’m game for seven-card stud.”

“Man, for real?” Carlo growled at him. “I’m trying to like you.”

Tony laughed, completely unapologetic. “I know how to lose for the right reasons.”

“Thank you.” Tino held out his hand, and Tony smacked it under the table. Then Tino pointed at his uncle. “That’s your problem. You don’t know how to lose. Instead, you fuck yourself trying to win something you know is impossible.”

Carlo obviously couldn’t argue with that.

So, they played seven-card stud.

And Nova annihilated them.

Six games in, Carlo had to bum money off Nova to keep playing, except Nova charged interest ’cause he was a motherfucker about these things.

Which made Carlo a motherfucker.

It was when Carlo was dealing their seventh hand that he finally blurted what all of them had been wondering, “Tony, can you please just ask him ’cause I’m tired of taking it for your goddamn favor.”

“You should probably ask. Things are about to go south,” Tino warned Tony. “He’s in over two grand.”

Tony had been playing his game the whole time, but it wasn’t cards.

Nova was in a really fantastic mood.

He just loved winning at cards. Tino wasn’t sure why it pleased his brother so much, but it did, and most people weren’t willing to lose to him for this long.