Page 29 of Kings Against the World

She’s so stiff, so wooden in her reactions that you’d think we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend.

Which would be the truth.

But we’re supposed to be pretending.

She catches on half a second too late, gliding her fingers over my mohawk and smiling at the others.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

Boone merely puffs on his cigar ’til she’s gone. His prior good mood seems to have all but faded as he reaches for his refilled glass of tequila.

“You two still got problems?” he asks.

I bite down on my jaw, the rage building from the inside, ready to blow. “We’re working through things. Like every couple.”

“Seems like times are tough. She froze up when you touched her. She not putting out? Then it sounds like she’s served her use. Might be time to give her the ax.”

“How about you stop speaking on our relationship?”

Chmura’s background chortling grinds to a sudden halt. Estrada, who’s moved onto checking his watch, glances up at my question.

Boone’s grin remains frozen on his face as he peers across the table at me. I hold the eye contact and toss back my glass of tequila before rising up out of my seat.

“Let’s get one thing straight. If I’m participating in this tournament, then you’re gonna respect me. And you’re damn sure gonna respect my girl.”

I leave him staring after me as I stride over to Strauss, grab her by the wrist, and lead her out the door of the Azure Sol Lounge.

9

ZOE

“We need to be more convincing.”

They’re the six words out of Gallagher’s mouth the moment we’re alone in our hotel room. I’m still lost as to what the hell happened in the lounge. I was in the middle of serving some of the patrons who’ll be competing in Boone’s tournament when he suddenly appeared at my side and pulled me away.

He was silent and tense the entire trip up to our room. A rarity for him.

Gallagher’s the type to be loud and mocking even in anger. He’s the guy who makes a scene even when he flies off the handle. For him to be so silent tells me I don’t have him as figured out as I thought.

He slams the door, flexing his hands open and shut. His fingers are long and tattooed, drawing my attention as they curl into tight fists again at his side. On his knuckles he has the words STEEL KING inked. The rest of both hands are tattooed to replicate a skeleton’s bones.

The design work is actually good, but I’m more distracted by how nice his hands are otherwise. His palms are wide, alittle rough and calloused but not too much, knuckles large and round, fingers noticeably longer than mine…

I’m so distracted that for a second I forget why I was observing him in the first place—Gallagher’s pissed. He’slivid, pacing back and forth in the short hall of our hotel room.

I blink out of my temporary stupor and start dogging his steps. “Will you tell me what exactly your problem is? Why did we leave?”

He mutters something indistinguishable under his breath, anger clenched onto his usually relaxed face.

I’ve had enough breadcrumbs. Enough searching for context clues. I step in front of him and push at his chest to slow him down. The only problem is, I don’t think about how touching Oswald Gallagher’s chest will send a warm current shooting straight through me.

It’s like even that slight touch has made us exchange energy. Palms flush on his lean, firm chest, suddenly I’m warm all over. I might as well be running a fever as his eyes connect with mine and we find ourselves closer than we meant to be.

I immediately drop my hands and take a wide step back. “Tell me what the hell happened.”

“Boone’s still suspicious.”

“How do you know that?”

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