Dean took his shot.
The groan his opponent gave as the ball sank into the side pocket was music to the hunter's ears.
"Thing of beauty, my man. Thing of beauty." Dean hummed happily as the beefy biker threw a stack of bills onto the table.
"Good game, ya prick," the big man said amiably. "Whaddya say, double or nothin'?"
Dean hesitated, glancing over at Sam, dozing in a corner of the bar. Thought of the long drive ahead of them to the next motel.
With a shrug and an easy grin, he racked up the balls. "Double or nothing."