21. Ozzie
21
OZZIE
Boone lets go of Zoe and releases a deep laugh. “Well, look who’s finally shown his face around these parts! Ozzie fucking Gallagher, how’ve you been? Missed you at the start of the tournament!”
I move deeper into the room, scanning the scene I’ve walked in on. Boone had Zoe by the back of the neck as he shouted down at her. Then there’s Estrada who once again comes across like somebody snatched him from a corporate office somewhere and planted him inside the lounge of an underground criminal gang. Sugar’s topless and wide-eyed hanging from the metal pole in the middle of the room, her blonde locks tousled from all the spinning she’s probably been doing.
And then there’s the last man in the room. The guy who I didn’t expect to see tonight. The guy who I hadn’t been aware even knew Boone well enough to attend one of his tournaments, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Nathaniel Rollins in the flesh.
A while ago, before I ever came to Vegas, I’d been late to the bonfire party the MC was throwing. Silver gave us a whole speech about looming threats—one of those included the premature release of Nathaniel “Wheels” Rollins from the joint.
What the fuck is he doing turning up at Boone’s tournament? Has Boone been working with the Road Rebels?
It puts a whole new spin on what could be going on. He insisted that I play as his avatar in this tournament knowing which club my loyalties belong to. Was he trying to pull me into whatever long-game plan he’s running?
Blackmail me into turning against the Steel Kings? Use me against the MC somehow? Start another war with the Road Rebels?
There’s no telling what could be going on, but as soon as I look over and meet Rollin’s dead gaze, I know it’s nothing good.
Zoe and I might be in deeper shit than we realized.
I had left the hotel earlier with every intention of ditching Vegas altogether. I was done with everything about Zoe’s investigation and trying to get through to her. It was doing more harm than good so what use did it serve? What was the point of trying to find common ground with her when she was so damn hell bent on pushing me away?
She was convinced she should be on her own, so I left her alone.
I crossed the city limits and rode for a couple hours before having second thoughts. I went by Louie’s garage and learned Zoe had come by earlier looking for me.
Round five of the tournament had already started by the time I made it back, but it didn’t matter. It was more important that I made it in time to intervene in whatever the hell Boone and Rollins have planned.
“Get your hands off my girl,” I say simply.
“What girl? This girl?” Boone grips Zoe by the upper arm and wrenches her up so roughly, she can’t get her proper footing. “I thought you two lovebirds broke up. Don’t tell me that was a lie too. We all know how I feel about lies.”
I stride toward him. “I said take your fucking hands off her.”
Boone grins, then shoves Zoe back down on the couch. “Fine, have it your way. Clearly you want all my attention. You realize where you are? You know you’re outnumbered a hundred to one? Seems like I’ve got another fucking lesson to teach you.”
I look from him to Zoe, reading her better than anybody else in the room. She might be Jade to them but looking in her eyes and seeing the fire burn, I know she’s barely holding on. She hates acting weak and afraid while Boone manhandles her. If she doesn’t want to risk blowing her cover even more, she has to stay in character.
I’ll have to take the lead in distracting Boone. I need to take the heat off her.
“You do what you gotta do, Ace,” I tell him. “If you feel you need the backup, that’s your prerogative. I prefer to stand on my own.”
He forgets about Zoe—and everybody else in the room—as he steps toward me. He’s taller than I am by a few inches, though his age and lack of muscle tone work to his disadvantage. He’s never been a fighter; he’s always had his cronies handle that part for him.
I’ve got no doubt I could take him out if things were actually fair. But Boone and fair don’t belong in the same sentence.
This is his tournament. His lounge. His rules.
“You sure as hell do stand on your own, don’t you, Oz?” he drawls, taking a few seconds to puff on his cigar. “Matter of fact, you stand so much on your own, your club doesn’t even know you’re here, do they?”
My jaw hardens glaring at him, though he’s right and he knows it.
“What’s the problem, Oz? Didn’t want ’em to know about your little addiction? Didn’t want ’em to know you’re in the hole to me for almost a mil? I’ve been a patient man. I’ve let you come to my tournament to gamble back what you owe—so long as you went along with my plan. But you couldn’t even do that right. So how’s being on your own working out for you?
“’Cuz from where I’m standing, I’ve gotta tell you. It doesn’t seem to be working out too great. Who knows?” He smashes the lit end of his cigar in the ashtray on the coffee table beside us, his cockiness rolling off him in waves. “Maybe they might find out what one of their fellow Kings has been up to. Maybe Rollins and I will come knocking. You remember Rollins, don’t you? He’s got a bone or two to pick with you and your club.”
“Whatever bone he’s got to pick can be settled during club business,” I say. “That’s not what we’re in Vegas for. We’re supposed to be here to play a tournament, right? Unless you’re going back on your word, Ace.”
“That’s rich, Oz. I’m the one going back on my word? Not you or your little sneak of a girlfriend?” He gestures to where Zoe’s crumpled on the couch, watching all of us like a silent but furious hawk. It makes Boone chuckle and shake his head as he reaches into the band of his jeans and withdraws a pistol. “Tell you what,” he says. “How about you’re gonna start talking real fast. You’re going to tell me just what the fuck’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on. That’s your paranoia at play. I’ve told you to keep your hands off my girl and I meant it.”
Boone turns to Wheels. “Are Steel Kings always this fucking irritating?”
Wheels gives his first real reaction, his expression darkening. “They got me locked up for ten to life. Irritating is one way to put it.”
“Then maybe we should share the honors. You put some bullets in Oz. I’ll handle his little lying plaything.”
“Don’t fucking touch her!” I growl as Boone snatches up Zoe all over again.
But as I step toward him, Wheels snaps to his feet. He inserts himself between us, pulling out a piece of his own.
Tension shoots to my jaw as I clench hard and debate if the bullet would slow me done enough before I reached Boone. I’ll gladly take a few if it means Boone keeps his fucking hands off Zoe.
Boone plays up the moment. He cocks back the hammer and then presses the pistol against the side of Zoe’s head.
“Now,” he says slowly, “you’ve got about sixty fucking seconds to come clean… or the floor’s not gonna be so clean. ‘Cuz your girl’s brains will be splattered everywhere.”
Zoe forgets to stay in character. Instead of trembling or cowering in fear, she stands boldly in Boone’s hold. Her face is a stoic slate lacking any real emotion. She’s tense, so still I wouldn’t be surprised if she disarms him herself and blows the rest of the lid off this cover.
If there was any way we could make it out this casino without having to fight Boone’s whole crew, it would be worth it.
Wheels has the gun on me as I direct my attention to Boone and demand he keep this between us.
“I said sixty seconds twenty seconds ago. You’ve got forty now.”
“Alright!” I yell. “You want the truth? You want to know who the snitch was? It was me! I was the fucking snitch! I was the one feeding info back.”
Boone pauses for a second, regarding me in silence. He keeps the pistol against Zoe’s head as he thinks on it. Then he’s back to his gruff laughter, the sound filling up the private room.
“You realize what you’ve just told me, right?” he asks. “The only way you’d confess to that is if you were protecting her. She’s the snitch. Just like I knew that night in Houston. I should’ve had your throat slit that night in the alley, doll face.”
His finger wraps around the trigger. My pulse explodes in my veins as I prepare myself to leap over Wheels and knock Boone down.
“NO!” I shout. “SHE’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS!”
But my shouts are drowned out no more than a second later. Feet pound the corridor outside, then round the corner. A large group of men flood the room with weapons already drawn, dressed in bullet proof vests that read: Las Vegas Police Department.
“EVERYBODY GET YOUR HANDS UP IN THE AIR!” one of the men booms. “Drop the weapons and get your hands up in the air! This is a bust!”