Page 67 of Kings Against the World

I raise my hands to my head in total disbelief. I don’t know what the fuck to say. How the fuck to possibly begin processing what Zoe must’ve gone through. Even now, how she must feel knowing she lost her little sister the way she did.

“So,” she says finally with a dark laugh, “when you tell me I could die taking down Boone, I really don’t give a shit. So long as I take him down first. So long as I make him pay.”

Her back is still turned to me as she peers out the glass door at the cityscape.

I rack my mind for the only thing I can think to do.

Offer myself for her cause.

“Tell me what else I can do. Tell me how I can help.”

“Ozzie, I don’t need the pity. I don’t want it. I’ve never mentioned it because this ismyinvestigation. This ismyvendetta to carry out. Not yours.”

“Fuck that. This is important to me too. Boone’s an evil fucking monster and he needs to go down. We can be the ones to do it. We’re here, right in the middle of his tournament, we’ve got the opportunity. Let’s go for it.”

She glances at me from over the tip of her shoulder, her almond eyes probing. “No matter what happens?”

“No matter what the fuck happens. It’s me and you against him and everybody that stands with him.”

“You’re serious.” She turns away from the balcony door at last, padding back over toward the bed. Her arms drop from where she’s crossed them defensively over her chest.

I look her in the eye as I rise up from the bed and meet her halfway. I step in front of her and then cup her face in myhands like I really am her boyfriend. We really are lovers and everything about us is real.

It’s become that way. What we’re facing is real. It’s life or death.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” I tell her, then I draw her mouth to mine for a kiss.

Zoe has an idea to gather more evidence. Her boss, Duchovny, hasn’t been impressed so far with what she’s dug up on Benz’s bank statements and the deposits he’s making. It’s not enough to link him and Boone to any of the illegal activity going on. Instead, she decides to go for a more direct play. Something much riskier.

Night four of the tournament starts with me seeking out Boone before the game. He’s posted up in the lounge, sitting like some damn kingpin with his feet kicked up and a glass of tequila in hand. Some of Benz’s girls dance for his entertainment on stage, keeping him distracted ’til the games officially begin.

“You ever think maybe you should be out there?” I ask, dropping by his table.

Boone raises an eyebrow, his grin wide. “There’s my champ! You’re about to win big tonight, right?”

“Like we agreed.”

“Where should I be then, champ? What d’you mean I should be out there?”

“The floor,” I say with a shrug. “It’s your tournament. Might be a good idea to show face during the games. Show you’re in charge.”

He chuckles. “Oz, everybody knows who’s in charge. It’s my tournament.

“It’s Estrada’s casino.”

“What difference does that make?”

If it weren’t for his big shades, his narrow-eyed glare would be seen. The shades hide it from view, but I can sense it on his face. Feel it on the receiving end.

“Just thinking out loud,” I answer. “We’ve got a lot of new players this tournament. People who are still learning the ropes. You’ve been in the lounge for the first three rounds.”

“Oz, with all due respect, you’re the player. I’m the owner. I decide what the fuck goes down at this tournament, and damn sure where I spend my time during the games.”

I hold up both hands, playing it cool. “You’re right, Ace. Just figured I’d make the observation. See you after this round.”

I walk away confident the conversation did what I hoped it would—plant the seed in his head and fuck with his ego. If it works even just for a few minutes, it’ll give Zoe the opening she needs.

Where Boone goes his posse goes. Which means if Boonedoeswalk the game floor during this round, the lounge will mostly be empty. Zoe will have a small window to plant the hidden cameras she needs to in order to get evidence on video or audio.

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