4. Ozzie
4
OZZIE
“ Your girl?” Boone repeats, shooting a glance at Strauss and then back at me.
“You heard me the first time, Ace.”
He flicks his cigarette butt to the ground and glowers at me from behind his dark shades, his cheeks ruddy from all the alcohol he’s been drinking. “Well…” he says slowly, mulling over every word. “That changes everything, doesn’t it?”
Boone’s men exchange looks. Nobody’s got a clue what the hell to do next. The dumb fucks stand there like dogs waiting for their master’s next command.
Moe clutches a knife between his greasy fingers. His puffy eyes shift from me to Boone to Strauss pinned against the wall. He’s looking almost disappointed the show’s been put on hold.
For her part, Strauss struggles to keep her game face on.
There’s no way she was ever expecting me, of all people, to interrupt what was about to go down.
It reflects on her face as her brows draw close and her lips twitch like she’s about to speak, but she catches herself last second. She settles on a blank slate, staring at me without an ounce of emotion to be found anywhere.
It would be a decent poker face.
If I wasn’t a pro at poker and reading people. I was once a regular at Boone’s gambling tournaments for a reason.
Special Agent Strauss is pissed. She’s actually so damn prideful that she’d rather I not interrupt. She’d rather handle Boone and his men on her own… and the consequences.
But I’m not in the business of letting shit I don’t agree with slide.
This kind of situation happens to be one.
Suddenly the night buzzes with promise of a good time. What was a huge letdown minutes ago becomes a moment where I could have a little fun. Adrenaline pulses through my veins at all the possibilities.
The good, the bad, the ugly. The fucking insane.
I’ve always been a risk-taker. Somebody who gambles every chance he gets. This could go very right or very wrong, and the thrill of that unknown excites me.
“If this is your girl,” Boone says, stroking his beard, “then I’m mistaken. She can’t possibly be the snitch we’ve been looking for… right?”
A strained silence hangs in the air. Nobody dares utter a word.
His question sounds innocent enough, but nothing’s as it seems with a dude like Asa Boone. The question’s a test, like everything is with him.
My gaze bounces from him to where Strauss’s pinned against the brick wall. She’s breathing hard, her chest rising and falling and looking fucking fantastic in that bra. Lacy and fancy like the ones the Victoria Secret chicks wear. The same bubblegum pink as the wig she’s using for a disguise, the shade popping against her dark brown skin.
But her nice rack can’t distract from what I’m really looking at. No matter how hard she tries to lock down her emotions and play unbothered, I see it all. The subtle flare of her nostrils and the way her pupils contract. She glares at me like I’m her mortal enemy.
…real believable that’s my girl.
“Sounds like it to me,” I answer Boone finally. I give a shrug, keeping my hands in the pockets of my cargo pants. “Why’d you think I was hanging around after you canceled the tournament? I was waiting for my girl to get off work.”
Boone’s long fingers stroke at his beard and ruddy cheeks some more. His lips are spread in a way that hints at a grin, but he holds off, like we’re in the middle of a poker game and he doesn’t want to reveal his hand.
Not yet.
“Alright,” he says. “Then it sounds like that’s cleared up. Let her go, boys.”
His men hover uncertainly for a second longer before they make good on his orders. Moe retracts his pocketknife. The chunky motherfucker pinning Strauss to the wall unhands her, giving her a rough shove toward me.
She wobbles in her high heels and slashed shirt, like she’s forgotten how to walk. Her shock’s genuine—she can’t believe Boone’s let her go that easily.
“Cool,” I say, giving a nod. “Glad we could reach an understanding. Uh… let’s go, babe.”
“Now just a second. I told my boys to release her. I didn’t say anything about you leaving.”
Fuck.
Shit.
Damn.
“I’d say this is a cause for celebration, wouldn’t you? We’ve cleared the air. Everybody’s on the same page. Why don’t you two kiss?”
“Kiss…” I repeat, then I glance sideways at Strauss. The look on her face matches the funny flip my insides give.
This is a chick who doesn’t even want me breathing the same air as she does, let alone kissing her.
But we don’t have time to stall. Boone and his guys are watching and I’ve vouched for her. I’ve said she was my girl, so now I’ve got to prove it.
A second-long hesitation passes before I go for it, hooking an arm around Strauss’s waist and drawing her toward me. My mind immediately goes blank as soon as our lips touch. Instinct swoops in and leads the way, making me forget we’ve got an asshole like Boone and his cronies watching us in this moment.
I kiss her like most women like to be kissed, cupping the side of her face and applying the right amount of pressure.
She’s stiff against me for the first few seconds. I can sense her urge to shove me away and probably cuss me out.
But then she seems to remember we’re in this together and her body relaxes against mine. Her hands slide up my chest and she falls into sync with me, the kiss growing in passion as she parts her lips and I introduce a little tongue.
Making out in front of a crowd wasn’t on my bucket list for Houston, but I’d be a straight-up liar if I said I’m not enjoying myself.
Strauss’s lips are as soft and full as they look. There’s something instantly addictive about feeling them against mine, like we happen to fit together.
Who would’ve ever guessed it? That me and an uptight, stick-in-the-mud chick like her would be such natural kissing partners?
We switch up the angle, going even deeper, until Boone clears his throat. I pull away with my pulse buzzing in my ears.
“My bad,” I say. “We, uh, we got carried away.”
The corner of Boone’s mouth quirks. “That was… hot. How’d you manage a catch like this, Oz?”
He adds a gruff laugh that the others quickly join in on.
The sound’s ominous and exactly what I’d expect out of Boone.
I squeeze Strauss’s hip, keeping her pinned at my side. “We’ve been together a while. Long distance.”
“Well, I guess I was wrong. You two really are lovebirds. There’s no snitch here. I’m glad that’s cleared up, right boys?” He glances over either shoulder to nods from the others. Digging a fresh cigarette out of his pocket, he lights it up and takes a long drag of it, blowing smoke. “You’re probably confused about what the fuck’s going on. You came here for the tournament, then you hear it’s canceled and I’m out here interrogating fucking bottle girls.”
“You have your reasons.”
“We’ve got an informant in our ranks,” he explains, sticking the cigarette back between his lips. “Somebody’s feeding info to Houston PD. Rumor was they were gonna turn up tonight for a big crackdown.”
I keep my expression neutral, though on the inside, my heart races. Strauss is damn sure not a real bottle girl, but she’s FBI. Not part of Houston PD. Is this a test or does Boone have his information wrong?
“That’s too bad,” I say after a beat goes by. “I was looking forward to it. Drove six hours.”
“I’m happy to hear you say that, Oz. ’Cuz we’re pushing it elsewhere,” Boone goes on, grinning wide. His cigarette hangs loosely out the corner of his mouth. “Vegas… where it’s easier to go underground. It’ll be better. More competitors. Bigger pot to win. And, of course, who can forget all the other goodies that come with these tournaments?”
“Vegas, huh? When would that be?”
“Two months. Blazing hot in the smack dab of the summer. You accept my invite, you’re playing for me. For my organization. The earnings are divvied up. You know how it goes. You work off what you owe first, then the debt’s a done deal and you earn a pretty penny. You in?”
I stroke my jaw in thought, stalling a few seconds.
“I should clarify,” Boone adds. “If you’re not in, we might have some problems. I might be in a less forgiving mood regarding that debt you owe. You know how I get when I’m feeling that way, don’t you, Oz?”
“Yeah… okay… I’m in. Sounds like a good time with a big payoff. I’ll be there.”
“Glad to hear. And you’ll be bringing sweetheart here, right?”
I keep Strauss at my side, regardless of how tense she is against me. “Maybe. We’ve got stuff to figure out.”
“Let’s hope you do. For your best interest and hers. Your girl’s heard a lot. We don’t like word getting around.”
His threat hangs in the air. His suggestion isn’t a suggestion at all—it’s a demand that he expects to be followed.
“Sure thing,” I say. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Well… time sure as hell will tell about that, won’t it?” Boone hacks out yet another hoarse laugh, blowing smoke. His dark shades block out his gaze, but I can tell it’s bouncing between me and Strauss. “You two have a good night. See you in the desert.”