17. Zoe
17
ZOE
I’m not sure what’s going through my head when I storm out of the hotel room. I’ve gone from the excitement of tonight’s victory to the shock and humiliation of having my personal issues ripped wide open.
But there’s one thing I do know as I rush into the elevator and smash my finger on the button for the ground floor—I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my life.
My worst nightmare.
Ozzie had no right to go through my things. He had no right to look in my toiletry bag. His cavalier attitude made it so much worse. The way he’d stared at me in the mirror as if he was looking at some sort of kindred spirit.
I was the one woman who was like him, and by default, that somehow meant we belonged together.
The entire situation was frightening and jarring. The last thing I was prepared for.
My stomach roils as the elevator drops and takes me down the ten-plus levels to the ground floor. The moment the doors roll apart, I’m darting out in a frenzy. I shoulder my way through the crowd of last-minute travelers checking into the hotel. A few of them shoot me disgruntled looks that go ignored.
The moment I’m outside, I’m sucking down gulps of fresh air. The heavy traffic from the Strip buzzes in my ears and the glittering lights blur together.
All of it more than enough to overwhelm me in the moment.
I can feel the energy crackling through me. The blood cells coursing through my veins, no matter how minuscule. It’s an acute level of awareness that quickly becomes tortuous, as there’s no escaping the rush of sensations and stimulation.
I don’t know what direction I’m headed in or where I even want to go. I’m aimless wandering down the street, trying and failing to reel myself in.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this, so charged up that I’m almost an entirely different person. Eventually, I stop and plop down on a bench at the end of the circular walkway at the front of the Azure Sol.
My face drops into my hands as I urge myself to calm down and focus. Herding cats would be easier. My mind’s racing and the thoughts quickly pile up one after another. I’m thinking about tonight’s victory planting the hidden camera in Boone’s lounge and then how good it’d felt to head up to the hotel room with Ozzie. Thoughts of Duchovny and the investigation clutter my head, all the expectations of him and the others at the bureau, and what about Mom and Dad? What have they gotten themselves into over the last week I haven’t been in touch? How many fires do I have to put out?
Zani needs me. She’s looking down at me from… somewhere.
I drop my hands and glance around, suddenly feeling like I’m under a microscope. What if Boone’s watching me? Or if Benz or someone else from their crew finds me? What am I even going to say at this point?
I have to focus. I can’t drag my feet on this investigation.
There’s no more time left. The hidden cameras won’t be enough. I have to do more.
Jumping to my feet, I take off running. For the second time in minutes, I’m rushing somewhere, knocking into people as I go, causing them to shout and curse me out.
This is urgent. This is extremely important. I’ve wasted so much time getting pulled into some illusion with Ozzie when I should’ve been working nonstop to take Boone out. I’ve let my guard down and I’m paying the price for it.
Gogogo! FASTER!
My inner voice screams at me as I rush back inside the doors of the Azure Sol and then make a sharp left to the elevators that’ll lead me not to the hotel but the underground level. I was off shift an hour ago, but I’ll work some extra hours. I’ll do what Duchovny said I should and cozy up to whoever I need to.
The instant the elevator takes me to the underground floor, I dash out like I’m responding to an emergency.
In my head, I am. This is urgent and it can’t wait another second. Boone has to go down.
“Jade, what are you doing here?” Sugar asks, her usually bright tone weighed down by bemusement. “I thought your shift was over.”
“I’m back. I need the extra hours. Is Benz here?”
“Benz isn’t home right now, but Daddy Boone is.”
We both freeze up at the deep, gravelly voice that seemingly comes out of nowhere.
Boone’s strolled up to us wearing a broad grin, drink in hand. He’s in his usual uniform of dark shades and all-black clothes, tonight a bomber jacket and some worn jeans and boots.
Sugar continues looking perplexed enough you’d think someone asked her a complicated math equation.
But it’s clear Boone’s speaking to me. I’m the source of his attention as he steps toward me and Sugar’s forced to back out of the way.
“Tell me, sweetie. What brings you back to my neck of the woods?” he drawls, raising his glass for a sip. His grin remains even as he drinks from his glass of liquor—Oro Sonto tequila if I could guess—and he stares down at me like he’s amused by my mere presence. He knows I’ve returned for a reason.
I take a second to gather myself, my mind and body still abuzz. “I need the extra hours. I wanted to see if I could pull another shift.”
“The lounge closes in two hours, sweetie. Benz went night night. Hell, I was about to ’til I saw you scurrying out the elevator.”
“Two hours is two hours. I need the work.”
He slants his head to the side. “You’d think you wouldn’t be so hard up with Oz looking after you. Don’t tell me he has his girl struggling.”
My heart skips a beat at his cavalier mention of Ozzie, though I give no discernible reaction otherwise. I’m desperate and restless in this moment and this isn’t even about Ozzie anymore. This is about carrying out what I need to do as soon as possible.
I can’t rest ’til I’m done.
“Tell you what, how about you take the last of our customers in the lounge?” Boone asks. He cuts a dismissive glance at Sugar, who for some reason, has idled by. “That means you’re no longer needed. How about you skip along?”
I follow Boone into the lounge, which is virtually empty at this hour. The VIPs, spectators, players, and even most of the employees have long since gone home. Jay Chmura remains, in the middle of a lap dance from Venus.
Boone selects his usual table and then shakes his glass of liquor, rattling the melting ice inside.
“Time for a new drink.”
I take the hint, collecting his old drink and heading to the bar counter for a fresh one.
“Thanks, doll,” he says when I return. “How about you take a seat and tell me what really brings you down here this time of night.”
“Sure… okay.”
My tone’s uncertain for two reasons.
The first being that I’m supposed to be Jade Fowley in this moment. Jade would be hesitant to be alone with Boone in any capacity. She’d be uncomfortable because she has a boyfriend and Boone’s a predatory creep.
The other, real reason I sound uncertain is because I’m actually Zoe Strauss. I’m instantly reminded that I hate this man more than any other being on this earth. I’d love nothing more than to jam a knife into his eye and watch as he screams in agony. I’d like to empty the clip of my Sig Sauer in him… many, many times.
It feels like a betrayal taking a seat with Boone and pretending to be cordial with him. Now more than ever because we’re alone. The other times were different; there were people around and we were in crowded rooms.
One on one, there’s no greater reminder that I’m sitting across from the man who took Zani away from me. He probably doesn’t even remember who she is.
“So tell me. What’d that boyfriend of yours do to piss you off now?” Boone asks conversationally. He leans closer, his elbows folded on the table. He reeks of smoke and liquor, both smells adding to the sensory overload I already feel. “Did you catch him doing you dirty? Oz is a Steel King, sweetie. They’re rarely faithful.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing like that.”
“So? Then tell me. What’s got your panties in a bunch? Assuming you’re wearing panties, that is.”
He chuckles at his own quip, indifferent to the fact that he’s encroaching on my space. Every fiber of my being screams at me to move away. For me to slam my fist into his face and shatter those stupid dark sunglasses he seems to never take off.
But I can’t do either of those things. I can’t risk blowing my cover or fucking this opportunity up.
I have a moment alone with Boone and I need to milk this for all it’s worth.
Duchovny said it himself—so far I’ve failed at gathering substantial evidence that links Boone to the criminal activity he’s being investigated on. I need to cozy up to him, gain his trust, find an opening so I can bust him myself.
Vegas was never about some stupid fake relationship with Ozzie. It was always about taking down Boone.
“I’ve told you,” I say, softening my voice. I bat my lashes, trying my best to look harmless and vulnerable like he expects out of a woman like me. “I need more cash. The hours I’m pulling for Benz aren’t cutting it.”
He sits back against the leather cushions and stretches one arm along the top of the sectional. He drinks from his Oro Sonto tequila with the other hand, taking slow sips and staring at me in more consideration.
“Well,” he drawls finally, “maybe we can work something out, doll. If you need to earn more cash, I can sure think of a way a girl like you can earn it.”
The churning inside my stomach deepens. The muscles in my face resist as I contort my expression into a small smile of gratitude.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says. “Tomorrow night, sweetie. I’ll let Benz know. Maybe we’ll have you shadow Nova or Chyna or someone a little more… experienced. You did amazing on the stage the other night. Just think about what you could do if you put in real work in the private rooms.”
He sits up to lean closer again, this time slipping his hand under the table. It finds its way to my lap, gravitating onto my bare thigh.
My skin crawls at his touch. The sick feeling he provokes battles it out with the sheer and utter hatred and contempt I have for him.
Both are so intense that it’s a miracle I’m able to keep composure. I remain still as Boone’s large hand glides over my bare skin and he hovers only inches away from my face, grinning wide. My reflection shows up in the dark glass of his shades, and I see a woman that’s desperate and untethered staring back at me.
A woman with nothing to lose, willing to risk everything, even her life.
It’s the adrenaline rush that surges through me and makes me do it. Makes it so that I’m able to play along as I realize it’s what I have to do to get what I want. If I’m to make Boone suffer, then I’m going to have to go to the pits of hell to get it done.
I might even have to sacrifice myself. Something I’ve always known; something I’ve never had a problem with.
“Well?” he prompts seconds later. He’s so close now, I can smell and feel his breath on my face. “Is that a yes, sweetie? Tell me in your own words.”
“Yes,” I answer with conviction. “It’s a yes. I’ll do whatever it takes.”