Page 110 of Kings Against the World

Slowly, his men begin lowering their weapons, the metal clicking as they’re placed onto the floor. Relief rolls over me, lightening my pulse.

Once Ozzie and the others collect their weapons, then it’s over. We’ve won.

Boots scrape across the floor, loud in the tense barroom. I look up at the same time everyone else does, detecting where the sound’s coming from.

Behind all of us.

The realization slams into me and evaporates all the relief that’s begun to wash in.

Boone has more men.

A sick sensation twists inside my stomach. I come to the slow realization that we don’t have the upper hand I thought we did.

We’re surrounded.

I maintain my submission hold on Boone despite how I feel on the inside. The dread spreads through the room, reaching the others too.

We’re screwed.

Boone shifts beneath me, and then he laughs.

The sound is low at first, more of a quiet, amused chuckle, but then it builds into a full-blown fit of laughter. His body shakes from the force of it.

“Oh, sweetheart, you really thought you had me, didn’t you? I gotta say, you almost did. You were so close. But this? This wasadorable.”

The edges of my vision blur slightly as my brain struggles to catch up with the situation. I’m searching for any possible out. Some way we can get ourselves out of this.

I come up with nothing.

Boone’s men stand with their weapons set on us from all sides. Their fingers hover over their triggers, waiting on his next command.

“How about we start with this? Let me go,” Boone orders. “Drop the blade, sweetheart. You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn. I’ll handle you. My men will handle the Kings.”

My fingers tighten around the switchblade, breathing shallow and slow. My gaze flickers to Ozzie, communicating with the looks we exchange. I’m checking for his thoughts, seeking some kind of direction or confirmation.

He’s as attuned to me as I am to him. His jaw is clenched, his glare telling me what I’ve known deep down. He gives a stiff nod.

Don’t fight him on it. Do as he says.

FUCK!

My stomach twists as I process what he means.

I hesitate a moment longer, trying to push down the urge to keep fighting, keep refusing, keep standing my ground.

But there’s no way out of this right now. We’re surrounded and outnumbered, and they’ll kill all of us before we could ever kill all of them.

Boone’s won this round. We’ll have to see how circumstances change.

Taking a slow breath, I loosen my grip on him. The switchblade falls from my fingers and clatters against the floor. The final death knell of any leverage I had left.

Boone doesn’t hesitate. The second I release him, he’s up on his feet.

He wrenches me up by the neckline of my shirt, spinning me around and twisting my arms behind my back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs into my ear, his breath warm and sickly against my skin. His grip tightens to the point of sharp pain. “Now the others.”

Ozzie, Mudd, and Johnny Flanagan set their weapons down, their movements stiff with reluctance as they step out from behind the overturned tables. Boone’s men grab them immediately, twisting their arms behind their backs and forcingthem forward. Boone lets one of his men accost me and stands at ease in the middle of the takeover, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. His grin widens like a man who knows he’s already won.

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