Page 83 of Kings Against the World

Nothing seems to work.

Chaos surrounds me.

The parking lot of the Azure Sol Resort & Casino glows with the flashes of red and blue police lights that seem so bright in the night. The police cruisers crowd the lot along with the ambulances that have responded to the scene.

Beyond them are clusters of people craning their necks for a view of the mess. Barricades have hastily been set up to keep them at bay, but that doesn’t stop them from holding out their devices and recording what they can.

Meanwhile, uniformed officers finish canvassing the area, a few gathered in tense conversation.

And then there’s Boone’s crew—or what’s left of it. They’re hauled out one by one, arms twisted behind their backs, wrists bound by handcuffs. Their faces are set in stone, still playing up the hardass angle even now.

Jay Chmura’s pushed into the back of a police van, followed by Moe and Hawke. Benz twists and turns against the officer escorting him, pleading for a chance to explain. Estrada in his crisp shirt and slacks is as calm as ever, giving no discernible reaction either way; something tells me he’ll be on the phone with his legal team shortly, if not already, and he’ll be free by sunrise.

Boone and Rollins come out last. Boone’s wearing his grin, showing off as he’s walked to a squad car. He wants everybody to see him. For us to know this is nothing more than a hiccup. He’ll be back to his disgusting underground antics in no time. Though his shades disguise his eyes, I’d guess he’s looking at me when he turns his head in my direction and stares for a second too long. Then the police officer bows his head and eases him into the backseat.

Rollins’s gait is prideful and bold. He strides with his head facing forward, not bothering to look at anyone or anything. Cheeks hollow and lips pressed tight, it’s as if he’s more than prepared to return to prison despite his early release.

I survey the rest of the scene vaguely aware that I should be in the thick of it. As an FBI agent, I should be one of the people spearheading this bust—directing officers, securing evidence, making sure nothing slips through the cracks.

But instead, I stand off to the sides, lost in the blur of the movement around me. I’m frozen as it feels like my body belongs to someone else and I watch Vegas PD take away the bad guys I’ve been after.

Just an hour ago, Boone and the others were ready to put a bullet in me and Ozzie. Now they’re the ones being slapped into handcuffs and carted away.

Life really does come at you fast.

I almost hear Ozzie’s voice in my head at that thought. He’s been by my side throughout this investigation, even at times when he didn’t have to be. Tonight was one of those times.

I’m pulled in different directions, unsure if I should feel grateful, remorseful, or cheated. I’m relieved to have survived, but I wanted to be the one to take Boone down. I’ve dreamed of the moment I got to look him in the face and tell him how this was karmic retribution for what he’d done to Zani.

It’s my fault it didn’t happen the way I envisioned. The hollowness inside me deepens, a large chasm of nothing. So much for justice filling the void. For putting Boone behind bars finally making me feel something…good.

A blip of hope and optimism for the future.

My gaze drifts from Boone and his crew being escorted away to the one person who has proved to have my back.

Ozzie’s off by a police cruiser in the middle of talking to one of the officers. His mohawk stands tall, one of many things that’s uniquely him. Like his many tattoos, it makes him stand out among the chaos, drawing my gaze. A bruise decorates the edge of his jaw, his bicep muscles straining against the fabric of his t-shirt as he crosses his arms and his lips move.

A magnetic pull exists between us, even without trying.

I should go to him. Yet my feet don’t move. Something holds me back. What happened between us was never supposed to feel so real, but that’s exactly what it feels like—it feels like we’ve gone through a situation that’s bonded us in a way we didn’t expect.

Swallowing hard, I finally begin to move. My legs are stiff and uncooperative, making my gait look wooden. Instead of going toOzzie like the more emotional part of me craves, I seek out the ranking officer on the scene.

I have to do my job. I’m a federal agent first and foremost.

“Agent Zoe Strauss, FBI,” I say, holding out my hand to shake. “I’d show you my badge, but I’ve been undercover.”

The officer takes me in. He’s older, maybe mid-40s with touches of gray in his hair. He’s done what he can to stay in shape, though the wrinkles crinkling at the corner of his eyes and creasing his brow are a different story.

“We weren’t briefed on any federal agents in the operation.”

“And I assure you the bureau was not briefed that Vegas PD was involved either, beyond the support they were supposed to send me tonight. What tipped you off if it wasn’t my emergency code?”

His mouth tightens. “We had an operative of our own. A deal struck between Houston PD and our department.”

“So there was an insider.”

“Allison Crowley worked for Boone, but she was busted by Houston for some prior drug smuggling charges. They struck a deal with her that if she brought down Boone and Benz, some of her charges would be dropped.”

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