Page 50 of Kings Against the World

I have no clue what could’ve happened. I spent most of round one working the game floor. I was bouncing between tables, serving new drinks and taking away the old. Occasionally I’d be summoned to the lounge where some of the VIP guests like Boone, Estrada, and other wealthy attendees requested service.

I’d seen Ozzie at table seven, but from what I could tell, things were going in his favor. He won the game at his table.

What could possibly make him and Boone have a confrontation?

“Will you just talk to me?” I ask exasperatedly. I’ve followed him yet again, this time deeper into the hotel room.

He’s tugged off his ripped, bloodied t-shirt and tossed it aside. Bruises now decorate his torso alongside the ink tatted on his skin.

It makes for a jarring sight—the black and blue blotches juxtaposed against the many pieces of bright, vivid artwork.

But if he’s in pain, he doesn’t show it. He somehow manages to present himself as resilient and strong, more furious than anything.

He looks… indomitable in a way that speaks to me on a deep, intrinsic level.

Heat creeps up my neck, spreading to my face. I quickly look away, but my gaze is drawn back for more furtive glances of his lean physique.

His pants hang right at the point where the sharp cut of his Adonis belt starts. Right where a sparse happy trail leads straight down to his…

I turn toward the balcony doors as if I’m about to step outside. I stop short of the door, arms folded over my chest as I get myself in check.

It’s been almost two months for me. Though I can go longer if I have to, that’s usually without the constant close proximity of a man I find objectively attractive (something I’d never admit aloud to Ozzie).

“You need to tell me what happened,” I manage in a choked voice. “It could affect the investigation.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, the investigation. How could I forget? It’s all you care about.”

“Iwasconcerned about your injuries!” I snap. “Youpushed my hand away!”

“You mean I don’t want the chick who hates my guts pretending to care I got the shit beat out of me? That’s shocking.”

I roll my eyes at his sarcasm, facing him again. “I wasn’t pretending. I do care. Will you let me help clean you up?”

He won’t look at me as he lifts his shoulders in an indifferent half shrug. “Do whatever you want. I’m not about to stop you.”

That’s a yes in male ego speak.

“You know, I’m not the only stubborn one in this room. Sit tight. I’ll grab a fresh towel.”

I return a couple seconds later with a damp towel and join him on the side of the bed. I’m facing him while he’s sitting straight toward the wall. Curling my legs under me, I ignore the fast beat of my heart and force myself to keep my cool.

I may be physically attracted to Ozzie Gallagher, but this is an official investigation—I’m on the job.

The thought is on my mind as I dab at the scrape on the underside of his jaw.

“Fuck, Ozzie,” I mutter under my breath. “How many guys was it?”

“You mean you know it wasn’t Boone?”

I snort, almost grinning. “Please, Boone get his hands dirty? In what universe? For as badass as he acts, I bet he’d shed tears if he had to throw a punch and felt how much it fucking hurts your hand.”

Ozzie casts me a sidelong glance, one brow raised. “And what would you know about that, fed?”

“I’ve thrown plenty of punches. I told you I’m?—”

“Trained in numerous styles of combat,” he finishes for me, then he adds that fucking crooked grin of his.

The same one that brings that funny flip sensation to my stomach; the same one that’s clearly flirtation.

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