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“I’ll take all the blame.”
* * *
Samson bent over the white lines, and all the memories came flooding back:
The jolt of that first hit, the sweet staggering sensation of potent power like a thunderbolt to the brain.
Invincible.
Unstoppable.
Then the deep descent and uncontrollable spiraling decline until the only solution was another hit, then another and another until—
Did he really want to shit on the last eight years without this demon? Was he that weak?
No.
Samson raised his hand and swiped the three lines off the metal table and into the air.
“What the fuck are you doin’?”
“Don’t ever offer me that shit again,” Samson warned.
Paulie shot him a disbelieving look, then left the locker room.
“Ready to get this done?” Frank came up on his other side.
Samson zipped up his duffle and sucked in a deep breath.
The locker room door banged open, and Edward Monroe barged in—eyes wide and glassy. “Just the two I want to see.”
Samson stilled as a prickle of electricity shot down his spine, all his senses alert, on point, and ready to pounce.
Edward whipped out a gun and waved it around the room. “Looks like I have the upper hand this time.” Edward’s high-pitched, frantic voice bounced off the metal lockers.
Samson caught Frank from the corner of his eye, sliding his hand inside his jacket.
“Don’t even think about it,” Edward warned. “Just take it out nice and slow and lay it on the table.”
Frank did as he was told, then he and Samson exchanged a look. Edward must’ve been sampling his own product because he was spinning in a bad fuckin’ way.
“You both think you’re tough guys. Think you can pull one over on my father and me, but you’re wrong. For three weeks I’ve been watching and waiting and now you’re going to pay.”
“You’re making a big mistake.” Frank’s deep, steady voice filled the empty locker room.
“Let’s make it clear who’s in control, who really has the power.”
“Your father and I made a very delicate deal, and I don’t think he’d want you messing with it.”
“My father has deals with everyone, but he always leaves me out of the decision-making,” Edward ranted.
Samson edged to Edward’s left side, his pulse and heart racing.
“He treats me like his lackey. Make the plane arrangements, make the hotel reservations. He never lets me get involved in the real business and I’m tired of following his rules.” Edward swung the gun in Samson’s direction. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Let’s talk this out.” Frank moved in on Edward’s right side. “You don’t need the gun.”
Edward focused on Samson. “I’ve come to settle this once and for all, and take back what’s mine—Lisbeth.”
