Page 46 of Kings Against the World

We were seconds away from going there.

My fingers were curled inside her and she was gyrating against me. Her lips were as soft and full as I remember, and her pussy walls contracted around me.

I was so fucking hard, I couldn’t even think straight. If I hadn’t walked out when I did, I would’ve been balls deep in her at this moment.

Everything blurs around me as I leave Vegas behind and drive so far out of the city, the dark desert landscape emerges.

You’d think I’d pull a U-turn and head back, but I only go faster.

I ride ’til the hot, late night air’s finally strong enough to ruffle my mohawk. It blows against me with nothing and no one around to serve as a barrier. It’s just me, the desert, and the wind as my thoughts take over and I fall down the black pit I always do.

There’s no use fighting it. No use convincing myself I could do better.

None of it fucking matters in the end.

And if Zoe wants to risk it all, then who the hell am I to stop her? Why should I give a shit if she wants to self-destruct? How am I supposed to play a hero and save her when I can’t even fucking save myself?

I’m not responsible for her. I’m done pretending to be something I won’t ever be.

It’s another few hours before I finally decide to ride back. Dawn is spilling onto the sky as the signs for Las Vegas start popping up. My jaw sets, eyes narrowed, as I grip the handles on the Screaming Eagle and head toward the Azure Sol Resort and Casino.

Just like I made myself scarce last night, Zoe makes herself scarce during the day. I return to the hotel to find she’s showering in the bathroom. She comes out fully dressed in a t-shirt and jean shorts that show off her long, smooth legs. I’m invisible to her as she zips up a few things in her suitcase and then walks out the door.

It’s anyone’s guess what the hell she’s up to. Probably something to do with the investigation.

Calling her FBI associates about the events so far. Letting them know what little pieces of info she’s gathered.

…which isn’t much as far as I know.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t give a fuck that Boone’s taken a special interest in her—she believes it’ll help her get closer to him and she’ll be able to get the evidence she seeks.

The only problem with that is she doesn’t get the kind of hot water she’ll be in the second Boone suspects her. He almost had her stripped and cavity searched in a fucking alley outside Déjà Vu and she thinks she can handle what he would have in store.

As much as I told myself I didn’t give a damn last night, as the hotel door slams shut and I’m left alone in our room, deep down I know I do. I dim the lights and strip down to my boxers and crash on the bed, seeking sleep with Zoe on my mind.

Her trouble has become mine and I don’t know if I can separate us if it comes down to it. If I can turn my back when I know what could happen…

We don’t see each other again before I head out for round one of the tournament. Either Zoe went straight to the underground casino or she plans on returning to our hotel roomafter I’ve left. Either way, I step out of the elevator trying to focus on the night ahead.

I’ve got to be calm and controlled if I’m going to be on my A game.

Dozens of other poker players are already on the game floor, ready for round one to begin. I recognize tournament regulars like Judd from the Iron Wolves and another guy named Rupert Reznor, who’s a big name in professional poker circles.

There’re some new faces like an older woman whose name I learn is Linda Cao and some guy who’s apparently a known guru at online poker.

Others gather in front of the giant digital game board that shows the first round info. The table numbers and player names and start times.

Sugar finds me as I stop in front of the board and informs me that Boone would like a word before the first round begins.

My hands curl into natural fists at my side as the irritation I’d felt last night returns in spades. I give a terse nod and follow her to the VIP lounge area, where Boone’s already seated. This time it’s just him and Carlito Estrada, sharing drinks and indulging in the fruits of their labor.

Watching their creation that’s this poker tournament kick off.

“Oz,” Boone calls out. “There you are. I was getting worried when you didn’t show up with the rest.”

“I said I’d be here.”

Boone peers at me from behind his dark sunglasses, his wavy, thin white hair a stark contrast. He’s assessing if I’m mouthing off or not, if I’ll cooperate with his scheme.

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