29. Ozzie
29
OZZIE
I watch as the first shot shatters the front window. The glass explodes into the air in sharp, jagged shapes that scatter the floor. The same happens to the liquor bottles behind the bar counter. They erupt and make it rain broken pieces of glass.
Mick’s thick brows scrunch together and his eyes bulge as he screams out in shock.
“EVERYBODY TAKE COVER!”
He and the others dive behind whatever they can. My gaze snaps to where Zoe’s at my side and my arm instinctively stretches out to grab her, but she’s already a half second ahead. She jumps down from the barstool, landing in a one-kneed crouch.
I throw myself off the barstool to follow her on the way down. I want to shield her, push her further back. My natural instinct is to get her out of the way.
But it’s not what Zoe needs.
I just have a hard time accepting it.
The rest of the club is out. The Road Rebels played us. They lured most of club away only to stage an attack once they were gone. It’s left up to me and guys like Mudd and Flanagan to defend our clubhouse.
“Zoe,” I shout over the chaos. I press my back against the bar as more shots rip through the air. “Go with Mick. Get to the stock room and stay there ’til it’s safe. Zoe!”
She can’t hear me. Her gaze is trained on the front door. Bullets punch holes through the wood, splintering it in halves. There’s a spark in her eyes—a lit fire from within that changes the hazel shade of them. It’s the look of a woman on a mission.
“Zoe!” I snap. “Are you listening? Get the hell behind the counter. Go with Mick!”
She does the opposite. She takes off in a crouched run toward the armory door. Darting out from behind the bar counter, she flits between the tables. Never once does she hesitate, even when she’s in open view.
She’s actually crazy. Actually so damn fearless she’s risking it all just to make it to the armory.
And I’m the fool rushing after her.
“Damn it!” I hiss, pushing off the bar and chasing after her. More bullets ricochet off metal and wood, kicking up splinters and dust as we dodge and weave through the chaos.
Zoe bolts into the armory, and by the time I make it inside, she’s already got her hands on a semi-automatic rifle.
“What the hell was that?” I growl, stepping toward her. “I don’t want you in this. The deal was you help with the armory. Not defend the club. Me and the others got it?—”
She spins toward the door, slinging the rifle strap over her shoulder as she cuts me off.
“Now is not the time to be a knight in shining armor, Oz. Get in the fight!”
I clench my jaw. There’s no stopping her. Not Zoe Strauss. Not when she’s already made up her mind.
It’s the truth I’ve got to accept. My girl wants to be a part of the action.
So I grab a rifle and move to back her up.
Out on the club floor, Mudd and Flanagan are crouched behind an overturned table, returning fire as bullets tear through the room. The front door’s been kicked in, and I recognize some familiar faces approaching.
Not Rollins and the Road Rebels.
Boone and his men. Hawke and Moe, and a few others.
Zoe and I copy Mudd and Flanagan. We slide behind a different knocked over table, breathing hard. I glance at her, feeling the determination roll off her in waves.
“You ready, Special Agent?” I ask.
“Been ready! Let’s go!”
“Fuck… you’re so hot. Sit on my face?”
“Later!” she exclaims as we catch each other’s gazes and then confirm what we’ve got to do. We pop up and return fire.
Zoe’s shot lands first, nailing Moe in the shoulder and sending him crashing to the ground in a pained howl. She ducks back down, lips spread in a wide smile.
I grin back at her. “You’re fucking amazing.”
“Glad you finally noticed!”
There’s a teasing twinkle in her eye as we edge closer for another round. We’re about to shoot back when deep laughter fills the air. The sound is thick and gruff, like rolling over gravel. It’s a sound more than a little familiar to us after our time in Vegas.
Boone steps through the doorway, his grin wide and his dark shades hiding his eyes. He’s convinced he has the upper hand since we’re outnumbered three to one. There’s four of us and twelve of them, making us severely disadvantaged as more guns are pointed in our direction.
We keep shooting and we’re done for.
“Betcha weren’t expecting me to drop by!” he cackles. “Ozzie Oz, come out, come out wherever you are! I know you’re here!”
I grit my teeth and edge toward the corner of the table. “I should’ve known you’d be back, Ace. Don’t they say cockroaches live forever?”
“Jokes aren’t going to get you anywhere, Oz. I’ve come to collect once and for all.”
“Too bad I don’t owe you shit! The club knows about you. Nothing else you can blackmail me on.”
“You’re outnumbered three to one. Seems like you owe me what I tell you… if you want to make it out alive.”
“And what’s that?”
“You know what… or rather, who .”
“Go fuck yourself!” I growl, clutching my rifle tighter. My stomach twists as I glance at Zoe beside me. Boone isn’t talking about money. He’s talking about her.
Zoe gets it too. Yet she looks more determined than ever.
“I have an idea,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s too damn risky.”
Her eyes flick to mine, sharp with fearlessness. “Which means it’ll probably work.”
Before I can stop her, she kicks her rifle out from behind the table. The metal clatters as it slides out into the open, clear for Boone and his men to see.
She stands up, hands raised.
Every muscle in my body locks up. “ Zoe !”
“I’m what you want, right?” she calls out, her voice leveled. “This is how you’re collecting the debt you created?”
Boone’s grin twitches, then splits wider as he recovers. “That’s exactly it. C’mere, sweetheart.”
Zoe cocks her head. “Why don’t you make me? You’re the big bad man in charge, right?”
A flicker of irritation crosses Boone’s face. “You don’t get to decide how this goes. That’s my job.”
“Then make me,” Zoe challenges. “What’s wrong, Boone? You intimidated?”
A dry chuckle rolls from Boone’s chest. Some of his men exchange uncertain glances, shifting on their feet.
I don’t fucking like this. I don’t like that she’s out in the open, unarmed, with Boone and his men watching her like a pack of wolves. Every instinct in me screams to grab her, to shove her back down. But she’s looking at Boone like she knows exactly what she’s doing. She wants me to trust her.
Boone’s chuckle dies out, and his expression shifts, dark and dangerous. “Am I intimidated? By who? By you , sweetheart? Not for a damn second.”
His hand moves quick as he shoves it inside his pocket and then produces a switchblade. He starts toward her, dripping his usual arrogance.
The saloon is dead silent, everyone locked in place, caught in the tension of waiting to see who strikes first. My whole body coils, ready to intervene, but Zoe doesn’t flinch. She just watches, waiting for him to reach her.
Boone shakes his head. “You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Big, bad federal agent. I’m about to give you a taste of the real world.”
He lunges.
Zoe ducks .
She sweeps at his legs, swiping his balance out from under him. Before Boone even knows what’s hit him, he’s crashing down to the ground.
Zoe pounces on him as soon as he does. Her arms and legs move in a flurry as she wraps him up like a spider does an insect in a web, locking him into a submission hold.
She’s nicked the switchblade right from him, gripping it tight as she presses the blade against his throat.
The entire room is stunned.
Boone’s brows crease deep, the shock evident on his slack face.
His men share his confusion. They’re glued to the spot, watching in silence.
Zoe meets their gazes unapologetically. “You can shoot. But the second you do, I slit his throat.”