A knock on my office door catches my attention. I look up right as Kenji slips inside, shutting the door behind him.
“I’ll be in touch,” Callum says before hanging up.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I set down my phone.
“Pull up the cameras. Table fifteen,” he says as he walks toward me.
I do as he says and move the feed, projecting it onto the plain white wall.
I stand, and walk toward Kenji where he stands, arms folded looking at the live feed.
“What am I looking at?”
“The dealer pressed his button alerting us to the fact he thinks we have a card counter in the house.”
“Which one?” I ask, studying each person at the table.
“Skinny guy in the middle. He’s won six hands at this table. I went back and looked and he’s won three hands each on other tables before moving to this one.”
“So he feels comfortable sitting at one table.” I laugh darkly. “Have you run his face through facial recognition yet?”
“It appears so,” Kenji says as we watch the man win another hand. “He’s being run, we're just waiting for a hit.”
He picks up his chips, moving to another table.
“Switch the dealer out with Miya.”
“He won’t see her coming until it’s too late.” He nods. “How long do we let him go?”
“Let him have his fun.” I smirk. “It’s not like he will be leaving here with it.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have him moved down to the basement before he can leave,” he says as he types away on his phone. Giving out orders.
“Anything else I need to be made aware of happening tonight?”
“So far it’s been pretty quiet.”
“The night is young,” we say in unison, smiling at each other.
“There she is.” Kenji nods toward the screen.
We watch as Miya taps the dealer on the shoulder, replacing him. The man leans forward, staring her down. Miya bites her lip while staring him in the eye.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” Kenji says.
“Every time.” I smirk as I watch the man who doesn’t know he’s been caught in the web.
Kenji’s phone dings.
“Looks like his name is Morgan Evan, thirty-two years old, from the Midwest and is banned for counting cards in Vegas.”
“So he thought he would try the east coast,” I muse.
“Looks like it.”
“Make sure he gets the memo he’s not welcome here either.”
“Will do.”
