12. Zoe
12
ZOE
I’ve never been more nervous in my life.
I’m not someone who gets nervous. The nerves that most people describe turn into adrenaline for me and give me so much energy that being nervous is impossible. I’m too busy being high off the rush to pay attention to any stomach quakes or sabotaging thoughts about what could possibly go wrong.
But as I take the stage with the rest of the girls, I’m flooded with nerves. I feel nauseous and anxious all at once, suddenly unsteady in my heels.
Sugar smiles at me from my left as the music starts and she strikes a pose.
I do the same, placing a hand on my hip and facing forward. The difference is the rest of the girls working for Benz are dancers. Some like Sugar often double as bottle girls at Déjà Vu, but all of them have been strippers or some other kind of dance performers.
I have no dance background. I’ve never even touched a stripper pole let alone gyrated against one.
You never should’ve lied on your fake resume.
It’s true that when Benz was interviewing me, I mentioned I did some stripping freshmen year of college. I told him I was comfortable in an environment like Déjà Vu Gentleman’s Club because I needed the job for my undercover operation.
I probably should’ve realized that eventually there could come a time where Benz asked me to get on stage.
When he told me I was going on due to Starr’s absence, he said I wouldn’t have to do any tricks. This was just supposed to be a sensuous opening number to kick off the tournament’s party and get everybody in the mood. Then I would be able to return to serving drinks.
“You can do this,” I whisper to myself. “Just… just move around the pole.”
I’m not a woman who often tries to be sexy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to be.
If I move my hips and touch my body, most men will be distracted enough they probably won’t notice I’m not a dancer. I’ve done pretty damn good so far posing as Jade, strutting around serving drinks and earning tips.
The dark, sensual beat builds and fog rolls across the stage. One by one, the spotlight falls on a different girl situated across the stage. I take a deep breath as the light shines on Sugar, who’s second to last, and she does a loose swing around the pole.
I’m next.
The instant the blue-tinted light’s on me, I tune out the faces in the crowd. My gaze settles on some indistinct point in the distance and I let my hips sway to the slow, seductive beat. Trying not to think too much about it, I bite my lip and feel the music.
The sound becomes hypnotic to my ears. Easy to lose myself in.
I close my eyes and move my body, imagining I’m not on stage. I’m in the middle of a dense dance club where I’m enjoying the night like in college.
Some of the other girls climb up the pole and do some basic tricks. Sugar drops to the stage floor in splits and then starts doing tricks isolating her glutes.
The crowd responds the longer the performance goes on. Some whistles and applause break out when someone performs a trick or when one of the girls like Nova takes her top off.
I grip the pole and decide to go for a basic swing. Though I’ve never done any pole work, I’m extremely athletic. I have enough upper body strength that I can do a few pull ups at the gym.
My body curls naturally as I swing around the pole and then transition into more hip undulations once I’m back on my feet. I’m feeling the beat, flowing with the music, gliding my hands over my curves in a way I’ve never done in public.
It begins to feel strangely… freeing. An experience I’d never expect to enjoy, especially not when I’m up here against my will.
My eyelids lift as I gyrate against the pole and peer at the audience for the first real time. Everyone seated in the lounge blurs together, partially in the dark. But there’s one distinct face I make out, a gaze that connects with mine and sends a hot spark straight through me.
Ozzie’s watching.
His expression is ambiguous and unreadable, but his eyes look bluer than ever in the blue-tinted lighting. It’s like real versus artificial, with the manmade lighting only making his natural blue-eyed gaze pop more.
Electricity crackles in them. The same jolt I’ve felt rushing me, shooting through my veins.
I can’t describe how or why, but my performance becomes about him. For him as I give the pole another sharper, bolder swing and whip my hair like the other girls have done.
But it only makes sense that I would perform for my man. And though it’s just pretend, in this moment, as far as everyone else knows, Ozzie Gallagher is my man.
He’s the only one I’m dancing for.
The song finally ends with everyone on stage hitting a pose and the lounge erupting in applause. Nova, Versace, and Chyna stay on stage while the rest of us slip through the exit on the side. Sugar throws her arms around me in a hug once we’re out of sight.
“You did amazing!” she says. “You should take the stage more often.”
I humor her with a smile. “Says the girl who was busting out in the splits. That was crazy!”
Benz appears hardly looking pleased with our performance despite the audience’s reaction. He claps his hands and starts barking orders.
“Venus get ready to hit the stage next. Sugar, you’re back out on the floor. And you,” he says, rounding on me, “you’ve been specially requested. Follow me.”
Specially requested?
I share a look with Sugar, who smiles and shrugs, and then I follow in Benz’s wake.
He waits until the others have dispersed before abruptly stopping and facing me again.
“And don’t think I’m dropping what I told you earlier just ’cuz you sicced your boyfriend on me,” he snarls. “I’ve got my eye on you, and I know you’ve been feeding info to the Houston PD. I’ve just gotta prove it!”
“Benz,” I say calmly. “I have no clue what you’re?—”
“Don’t put that innocent act on. It has to be you.”
“I’m not feeding info to anyone. You’re mistaken.”
“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” He shoots me a nasty grin, exposing the gap where his front incisor should be. His fingers clamp shut around my upper arm and he gives me a rough squeeze. “C’mon, you’ve been summoned. Boone wants you and only you on his table.”
I don’t have a chance to question him on it. He leads us back out onto the lounge floor and then gives me a little shove forward.
“And don’t fuck it up.”
My temper threatens to break free, a pulse of anger beating inside me, but I breathe through it and remind myself yet again I’m Jade. She wouldn’t mouth off to Benz like Zoe would. If I were being myself, I would’ve already smashed my fist into his throat and cut off his air supply.
I collect the assortment of drinks Boone likes at his tables and then head over to deliver them.
Boone’s grin broadens at the sight of me. He and some of the men have broken out cigars and are filling their section with the usual smoky haze.
“There she is,” he says loudly. “The star of tonight’s opening number.”
He adds a whistle as some of the other men survey me with lecherous eyes. Heat spreads across my skin as I ignore them and begin setting down the bottles and glasses.
“Oz is one lucky man,” he says. “He gets to go home to that every night.”
I spare a quick look in Ozzie’s direction, trying to remain unfazed. Ozzie seems like he’s doing the same, except I know him well enough to pick up on other subtle signs. The hard line of his clenched jaw and how tensely he’s gripping his glass. He’s staring unblinkingly at Boone as if he’s thinking of a million different ways he can slit his throat.
Boone either knows and is eating it up or is the most oblivious person in the world.
My bet’s on the former.
“You know I’m gonna talk to Benz about having you perform more,” Boone says. “Our guests shouldn’t be deprived of that kinda talent. You need to take the stage more. More little dance numbers. Maybe, who knows? Some lap dances.”
“My girl’s a server,” Ozzie says suddenly. His voice sounds strained, gruffer and tighter than usual. “She’s a bottle girl, not one of Benz’s dancers.”
Boone purses his lips blowing his thickest cloud of smoke yet. “Things change, Oz. Your girl’s danced before, right? Benz tells me she’s worked in clubs.”
There’s a tense second that passes where Boone waits on Ozzie’s answer and no one else dares utter a word.
I tuck my server tray under my arm and decide to be the first. “I have… but I prefer being a server. It’s what I’m better at.”
Boone releases a deep laugh that some of the others join in on. “Oh sweetie, after seeing you up on that stage tonight, I beg to differ. We’ll see what comes to pass, won’t we?”
Hours later, when Ozzie and I finally return to our hotel room, he slams the door shut so hard one of the paintings on the wall is knocked askew.
I spin around, alarmed by the loud noise. He hasn’t said a word the entire walk up here. He sat silent in the lounge for the rest of the party, the energy coming from him thick and angry.
“Can you not slam things?” I snap. “I don’t know what your problem is now, but we have to stay focused!”
He strides past me, every step quick and furious. “You don’t know what my problem is? I’ll fucking tell you what the problem is—Boone is fucking with us!”
“Boone fucks with everyone.”
“Not like this. He’s trying to get a rise out of me.”
“So don’t let him!”
Ozzie stops at the foot of the bed and then whips around so fast even I’m thrown off. I take half a step back, peering into eyes that have narrowed and darkened.
“Did you hear him tonight?” he yells. “Were you listening? Were you reading between the lines? Do you get where this is fucking headed?”
“I’m focused on the investigation! On finding useful evidence against Boone. Some of which I might’ve found tonight in Benz’s office. That’s all that matters.”
“He wants to use you!” he answers for me, even louder. The veins throb in the side of his neck, his complexion flushing from his anger. “He wants you to become one of those girls—the ones he sells during the tournaments!”
I fold my arms across my chest. “He said I should perform more.”
“That’s how it starts. A striptease here. Some pole work there. Then come the lap dances. Then the private rooms. You think I don’t know what the fuck goes on? You know how many of these tournaments I’ve been to?”
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “You’re in debt to him.”
“Don’t speak on what you don’t fucking understand!”
“I’ll speak on whatever the hell I want to speak on!” I yell right back. “And I’ll do whatever the hell I need to do for this investigation.”
Ozzie falls silent for a second, eyeing me incredulously before he releases a scoff of a laugh. “Whatever you need to do,” he repeats, then shakes his head. “You are so fucking hardheaded it’s enough to drive somebody crazy.”
“Why do you care? So what if I give a lap dance? The FBI is monitoring the situation. I’m in contact with my superiors. I’m updating them almost every day we’ll be here. If things go too far?—”
“You think you’re gonna have the chance to contact them before shit hits the fan?” he interrupts, taking a step toward me. “You think there’s gonna be time for that? Or you think Boone’s gonna have you in some backroom with some guys who have paid him a couple thousand a pop for some time with you?”
I match his energy, stepping to him like he did to me. I’m so pissed, it takes effort to keep from shaking. “Gallagher, I am a federal agent with over seven years’ experience out in the field. I have been trained in numerous styles of combat and am an expert marksman who ranks in the top five percentile of the bureau. I have disarmed and taken down men twice my size. Some of whom I have brought to tears. I have never in my life backed down when confronted by a challenge and I’m not about to start now.”
He laughs again, this time mockingly. “You realize I see right through you, right? This whole obsession you have with proving yourself?”
“Maybe you’re just not used to women who aren’t damsels!”
“If that’s what you want to call it. But all I see is some chick who’s so damn hardheaded she’s about to get herself in some serious shit.”
“And I can handle it if it happens.”
“If that’s what you think. Just don’t come crying to me when it all goes to hell and you find yourself in a bad situation.”
“I would never come to you!” I scream in his face, losing any last vestige of bearing. “You know why, Gallagher? Because I stand on my own! I don’t need anyone else. That includes you!”
We glare into each other’s eyes, both vibrating from anger. So close, we’re only inches apart. We’re giving off hot energy that mixes in the air, becoming combustible, liable to explode at any second. All we need is the spark to set it off.
For the match to be lit, burning everything to the ground.
I’m not sure how it happens, who makes the first move, or if it’s out of our hands. If some force greater than us takes over and drives us to do it.
But the tension crackling between us finally shatters and we collide.
Ozzie reaches for me at the same time I’m fisting my hands in the fabric of his shirt. We crash into each other, his lips mashing against mine in a hungry kiss that’s rough and aggressive.
Almost violent.
Right away, it’s like the entire room is turned upside down.
Everything’s flipped on its head as we seek out each other’s mouths in some sort of twisted power struggle. Neither of us wants to back down even as we come together and express ourselves through the fierceness of our kiss.
Ozzie shoves his tongue in my mouth and I meet him lash for lash. We’re locked into a duel we don’t even understand, the heat between us chaotic and disorienting. He walks me back and I wrench on his shirt, keeping his mouth fused to mine, refusing to relent. My back slams into the wall as he pins me into place.
I bite his bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.
My way to punish him.
But no matter how hard I give it, he takes it and then dishes it right back.
His hands canvas my body, groping at me with no gentleness in sight. He starts at my throat then sweeps down to my breasts and hips and ass. He pushes himself between my parted thighs, and I curl a leg around him.
His lips have traveled elsewhere too, placing frantic kisses across my jaw and throat.
My mouth drops open as we’re pressed close and my hips circle against him. We gyrate together, creating a rough friction between our clothes. My pussy grinds against the denim fabric of his jeans and he squeezes my ass and lashes his tongue against mine.
There’s no decorum to any of it.
We’re hungry and impatient and rough with each other as we kiss like we fight.
It’s all so intense, I’m hot and panting yet still coming back for more. I capture his lips all over again and our tongues twine for another duel.
I’m not thinking about what will come after. How we can possibly make sense of what the hell’s happening between us.
Ozzie isn’t either—he’s in as deep as I am as he kisses me hard and slips a hand down the front of my hot pants. His fingers are quick, forcing my panties out of the way, going straight for my pussy lips.
I can’t censor myself. I can’t help crying out at the feel of his fingers pushing inside me.
He seals his lips over mine in another hard kiss that drags me to the edge. I’ve never been so instantly fucking close, so pissed and turned on at the same time that my head’s spinning.
His fingers move inside me and I clench around him. I clutch the back of his neck, feeling the heat radiate from him as we kiss so heavily and deeply we’ve forgotten to breathe. We’re both desperate, taking what we can from each other.
And then it ends as quickly as it began.
Ozzie tears his mouth from mine, heaving air into his lungs. His fingers disappear from inside my panties and he takes a wide step back. His eyes are unfocused, pupils dilated, as he scrubs a hand over his face and turns away from me.
I’m just as breathless and shocked, still pressed up against the wall.
An uncertain moment passes where neither of us moves or says a word, processing what we’ve done. Then Ozzie starts toward the door. He snatches his room key off the top of the dresser drawers and wrenches the door open, slamming it shut behind him.
It’s the last I see of him for the rest of the night.