“I don’t need you breathing down my neck every moment of this operation!” I snap. “For all you know, you’ve just made things significantly worse, Gallagher.”
“Gee, Strauss, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was threatening you.”
“You weren’t even here to know what was going on!”
“Body language speaks volumes. He was fucking looming. He looked like a whole-ass vulture about to feed on a carcass.You.”
I click my tongue in frustration and spin on my heel.
There’s no use trying to get through to him. It’s as if we’re speaking different languages. He has no concept of discretion, of strategy. He seems to think spontaneity and shooting off at the hips will somehow keep Boone and Benz at bay.
Benz’s theory matched Boone’s. Both men are convinced that the police are running some kind of sting operation on their criminal activity.
The sole reason the original tournament had been canceled in Houston was because they believed cops were going to descend on Déjà Vu. We wouldn’t be in Las Vegas making another attempt at an even more audacious underground tournament if not for their suspicions.
But if there is a snitch on the inside whispering in Houston PD’s ear, it isn’t me or anyone from the FBI—we have a separate investigation going.
Ozzie scaring Benz away could have the opposite of his desired effect; he could’ve just made the club owner even more suspicious of us.
Why else would Benz pull me aside to let me know he thinks I’m the snitch? He must have some sort of evidence, and now I won’t know what that is because of Ozzie’s interruption.
I’m so frustrated that I head out the automatic glass doors at the front of the casino and start down the passageway that connects to the casino next door. Anything to get as far away from Ozzie as possible in this moment.
But, never one to be ignored, the tatted-up bikerfollows.
He jogs after me, calling my name.
“Jade! Hold up!”
He catches me as I’m halfway down the passage. Several onlookers glance over in curiosity, all tourists who are clutching plastic bags of souvenirs and their phones to snap photos.
“Will you chill the fuck out?” he says. Then he grabs my arm to pull me to his side and drops the volume of his voice. “Let me explain something to you about this world. It’s something you need to understand if your mission’s gonna be a success.”
I roll my eyes, too damn stubborn to concede, though secretly I’m interested to hear what he’ll say.
“Men like Benz don’t respect women like you.”
I scoff, half a second away from erupting at him, but then he goes on.
“You’re a bottle girl. Just some chick. All the girls at the club are. That’s why he felt comfortable inviting you downstairs,” Ozzie explains. “But Benz is a coward. He doesn’t respect you… but he respects me.”
“Because you’re my boyfriend,” I supply and he nods.
“I’m not saying it’s right. I’m saying that’s how guys like Benz think. It’s how all the guys in these circles think. You don’t need to prove you’re badass. I know you can handle yourself. But you’ve gotta let me provide cover for you. You’re not Agent Strauss right now, you’reJade.”
I inhale a steadying breath, allowing my temper to cool and rationale to take over.
What Ozzie’s saying is correct. In these types of circles, I’m looked at like a commodity more than someone worthy of dignity and respect.
Benz clearly thought he could intimidate Jade Fowley and had called her down to the lobby in order to do so. The question is, what was his goal in letting me know he believed I was the snitch?
“He thinks I’m the informant,” I say. “He called me down to the lobby to let me know.”
Ozzie slides his arm around my shoulders again and we start walking side by side. He juts his chin at a bearded man passing the opposite way on the passageway connecting the two casinos. The man wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, but then I notice the tattoo on his arm.
A howling wolf and motorcycle against the backdrop of the full moon.
It belongs to the motorcycle club the Iron Wolves, believed to have a sizable presence in the states of Nevada and Arizona.