22. Zoe
22
ZOE
“You are all good to go. No serious injuries. Just a few bumps and scratches.” The penlight flickers as the paramedic shines it in my left eye then my right. His fingers are warm against my cheek before he pulls back and slips the light into his pocket. “You might be sore tomorrow, but nothing too serious.”
I nod and slide off the back of the ambulance. My feet feel shaky as I touch the asphalt, like the ground is rotating beneath me. I flex my fingers at my sides, trying to shake off the numbness crawling up my arms.
Nothing seems to work.
Chaos surrounds me.
The parking lot of the Azure Sol Resort something tells me he’ll be on the phone with his legal team shortly, if not already, and he’ll be free by sunrise.
Boone and Rollins come out last. Boone’s wearing his grin, showing off as he’s walked to a squad car. He wants everybody to see him. For us to know this is nothing more than a hiccup. He’ll be back to his disgusting underground antics in no time. Though his shades disguise his eyes, I’d guess he’s looking at me when he turns his head in my direction and stares for a second too long. Then the police officer bows his head and eases him into the backseat.
Rollins’s gait is prideful and bold. He strides with his head facing forward, not bothering to look at anyone or anything. Cheeks hollow and lips pressed tight, it’s as if he’s more than prepared to return to prison despite his early release.
I survey the rest of the scene vaguely aware that I should be in the thick of it. As an FBI agent, I should be one of the people spearheading this bust—directing officers, securing evidence, making sure nothing slips through the cracks.
But instead, I stand off to the sides, lost in the blur of the movement around me. I’m frozen as it feels like my body belongs to someone else and I watch Vegas PD take away the bad guys I’ve been after.
Just an hour ago, Boone and the others were ready to put a bullet in me and Ozzie. Now they’re the ones being slapped into handcuffs and carted away.
Life really does come at you fast.
I almost hear Ozzie’s voice in my head at that thought. He’s been by my side throughout this investigation, even at times when he didn’t have to be. Tonight was one of those times.
I’m pulled in different directions, unsure if I should feel grateful, remorseful, or cheated. I’m relieved to have survived, but I wanted to be the one to take Boone down. I’ve dreamed of the moment I got to look him in the face and tell him how this was karmic retribution for what he’d done to Zani.
It’s my fault it didn’t happen the way I envisioned. The hollowness inside me deepens, a large chasm of nothing. So much for justice filling the void. For putting Boone behind bars finally making me feel something… good .
A blip of hope and optimism for the future.
My gaze drifts from Boone and his crew being escorted away to the one person who has proved to have my back.
Ozzie’s off by a police cruiser in the middle of talking to one of the officers. His mohawk stands tall, one of many things that’s uniquely him. Like his many tattoos, it makes him stand out among the chaos, drawing my gaze. A bruise decorates the edge of his jaw, his bicep muscles straining against the fabric of his t-shirt as he crosses his arms and his lips move.
A magnetic pull exists between us, even without trying.
I should go to him. Yet my feet don’t move. Something holds me back. What happened between us was never supposed to feel so real, but that’s exactly what it feels like—it feels like we’ve gone through a situation that’s bonded us in a way we didn’t expect.
Swallowing hard, I finally begin to move. My legs are stiff and uncooperative, making my gait look wooden. Instead of going to Ozzie like the more emotional part of me craves, I seek out the ranking officer on the scene.
I have to do my job. I’m a federal agent first and foremost.
“Agent Zoe Strauss, FBI,” I say, holding out my hand to shake. “I’d show you my badge, but I’ve been undercover.”
The officer takes me in. He’s older, maybe mid-40s with touches of gray in his hair. He’s done what he can to stay in shape, though the wrinkles crinkling at the corner of his eyes and creasing his brow are a different story.
“We weren’t briefed on any federal agents in the operation.”
“And I assure you the bureau was not briefed that Vegas PD was involved either, beyond the support they were supposed to send me tonight. What tipped you off if it wasn’t my emergency code?”
His mouth tightens. “We had an operative of our own. A deal struck between Houston PD and our department.”
“So there was an insider.”
“Allison Crowley worked for Boone, but she was busted by Houston for some prior drug smuggling charges. They struck a deal with her that if she brought down Boone and Benz, some of her charges would be dropped.”
“Sugar?!” I shake my head, processing everything that I’ve learned about her.
She had mentioned she was in trouble with the law, but I hadn’t thought anything of it. At the time I was distracted by my pursuit of Boone.
While I was risking everything to keep my cover intact, Sugar was feeding intel straight to the local authorities. The same intel that’s been used to blow up my investigation.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I excuse myself from the uniformed officer and answer already aware of who it is.
“Agent Strauss,” Duchovny says in greeting. “Do you mind telling me what the hell happened and why I’m hearing the investigation has been ended, not by your hands, but by local PD?”
I sigh, wishing I could hang up and avoid going over the details he’s asking for.
“The locals had an operative of their own.”
“More like you handed them our investigation on a silver platter. Months’ worth of work will now be credited as a city police department bust.”
Teeth clenched, I grit out, “I had no prior knowledge of another operative.”
“That is no excuse. You are federal,” he snaps, his tone cold and sharp enough to cut. “You were supposed to take down Boone. You guaranteed you would when this investigation was green lit. Instead, you’ve allowed the locals to swoop in and steal our thunder.”
“Of course it’s all about the recognition for you,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” Duchovny barks. “Do you realize how this makes us look?”
“I did my job. I gathered evidence. I submitted much of it to you. Boone is now off the streets. Isn’t that what matters?”
“Save the moral victories for off-duty. This investigation is officially a failure. Do you have any idea of how it will look when we brief the board on the outcome? After that stunt in Houston? When you get back to D.C., be prepared to answer for it.”
He hangs up before I can even think up another word.
The aftereffects of the call reverberate through me. I stare down at the phone in my hand, the screen already dimming, my reflection showing up in the dark glass.
Nothing I do will ever be enough for Duchovny. For the bureau.
I gave them everything, and still, I lost.
I’ve failed.
A shaky breath puffs out of me as I slip my phone into my back pocket and remember I’d first been tempted to seek out Ozzie. My gaze sweeps across the chaotic parking lot in search of him only to discover he’s gone.
I punch the elevator button harder than I need to, desperate to find a private space. My pulse still pounds in my ears, loud and relentless, as I wait for the elevator to arrive on the ground floor. I ended up having to get the hell away from the chaos in the parking lot.
The flashing lights, watchful tourist gazes, police radios and chatter, people moving in every direction. All of it suddenly became too much.
What I need right now is some peace, quiet, dark solitude… and my meds.
The elevator doors roll apart and I step forward before stopping at the man who stands inside.
While I was on my way up, Ozzie’s on his way down. His face is unreadable, lips pressed into a tight line, but his eyes—those bright, restless eyes—flick over me in a way that makes my stomach twist. Relief flashes through me, sharp and sudden, catching me off guard, stealing my breath away.
My lips pull back into a smile ’til I process the fact that he has his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, which means…
“You’re… leaving again?”
He nods, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Yeah.” His voice is low, rough around the edges. “You got a minute?”
I swallow, the ache crawling up my throat and nod. “Yeah. Sure.”
We fall into step side by side, silent as we make our way to one of the hotel’s terraces. The doors glide open, and the city stretches out below us—Las Vegas in the early hours, where the night’s chaos fades under the blush of dawn. Soft gold and pink spill over the horizon, casting a subtle glow over the Strip. This early in the morning, this far into the desert summer, the dry heat is already climbing for the day. Soon it’ll return to triple digits.
Ozzie stops at the railing, resting his hands on the warm metal as he stares out. I stay a step behind, uncertain and dazed. I almost don’t feel like myself right now.
After everything that’s happened, it’s easy to feel like I’m drowning.
Ozzie remains silent for a while. As if he’s searching for the right words.
“I’m, uh… I’m heading back to Pulsboro,” he says finally. “It’s what’s best.”
The words land heavy in my chest. I’ve sensed this was coming, but it still stings for an inexplicable reason I’m not ready to address. “Oh… I didn’t know you’d leave so soon.”
He glances over at me, something soft in his expression. “These past few weeks… they’ve been tough. It’s made me realize I can’t keep running from everything. I can’t cover it up with lies. I’ve got things to face back home.”
I want to ask what he means, though I have an inkling. He’s used this time going undercover as an escape from his vices. His break from the life he was struggling with in Texas. Part of me wants to reach for him, but I resist the urge. Ozzie’s always been a man who chooses his own path, and nothing I say will change that.
And maybe that’s what hurts the most.
We’re people who live two very different lives and that means it’s time to go our separate ways.
This should be something I’m in favor of. I’ve spent the entire operation wishing for our time together to end. But now that it’s about to, it’s as if my true feelings are bursting at the seams, no longer able to be suppressed.
The wind brushes against my skin as I force a breath past the knot in my chest. “I get it… it’s time…”
I cut myself off before finishing and the chance I’ll say something I regret. What would there even be to say? That I thought we had a chance? That I wanted more?
All of that was a lie. It was as fake as the alias I’ve been living under.
Jade Fowley isn’t real and neither was our relationship.
“Zoe.” He turns toward me, holding my gaze and making my insides flutter. I look up at him and memorize the details about him, like the jagged scar above his brow and the vibrant, highly detailed snake tattoo coiled around his neck. We’ve gravitated toward each other ’til we’re so close we’re almost touching. “I’ll never forget this… this whole time period. You’re different. Nothing like anyone I’ve ever met before.”
A small, sarcastic laugh leaves me. “That feels like a nice way of saying I’ve driven you crazy.”
“Sometimes. But I wouldn’t change it. Any of it.”
The words hit me harder than I expect. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep myself together. Trying to squash down the growing part of me that wishes this was more than just a job. That this went beyond my undercover investigation of Boone.
“Yeah?” I choke out, my voice thin and brittle. “And what am I supposed to do with that, Ozzie?”
He scratches his head, looking as conflicted as I feel. “Maybe now that Boone’s in the slammer, you’ll let yourself breathe. Let your hair down a little.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a good look on you.” His mouth tilts up at the corner, his crooked grin so familiar, I ache inside. “When you’re happy. When you smile.”
He lifts his hand, rough finger pads brushing against my cheek in the lightest of touches. I want to lean into it. Pull him closer toward me. Press my lips to his and kiss him. But before I can find the courage, he retreats. His hand falls away and the moment ends.
“Take care of yourself, fed.” He winks at me in goodbye, then turns and walks off, cementing what I already know deep down.
This investigation is closed. This partnership we’ve shared is over.