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What she needed was a bucket of ice-cold water thrown at her, anything to jar her out of the dangerous memories of the past.
* * *
As Samson trudged down the back staircase leading to the basement, his brain stalled on Lisbeth. Of all the event planners, it had to be her. He didn’t believe in all that fate shit, but even he had to admit this was a fuckin’ weird coincidence.
“Did you hear me?” Jax stared at him, waiting for a response, but Samson had no idea what the fuck he’d said. “Yeah. No. What?”
“Did the redhead in the VIP look familiar to you?” Their heels echoed in the empty stairwell, then Samson pushed through the basement’s metal security door. They passed the loading dock used for deliveries, the liquor storage area, and a small room in the far corner.
“Ahhh, yeah.” A little too fuckin’ familiar—as if he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel her tight body squeezing his dick.
“Me too, but I can’t place her.”
In those days, Jax handled the collections and only came to the Oasis to drop off Frank’s protection money. Samson and Lisbeth kept their relationship quiet, so Jax’s confusion wasn’t surprising.
Jax entered the keypad’s passcode, held open the door, and followed Samson into the soundproof room.
Samson forcefully pushed Lisbeth and all thoughts of the past from his mind and concentrated on his latest problem: the moron duct-taped to the metal chair in the center of the small padded room.
He slowly shook his head in disgust and glared at the wiry guy. “Tommy Squire,” Samson drawled, then twisted his lips. “What’s a rat like you doin’ in Vegas?”
Jax flanked Samson while a bouncer stood behind Tommy.
“Same as you. Just trying to get by.”
“Nah, fucker. Don’t ever put us together in the same sentence.” Samson sneered. “Now, let’s try that again.”
“Figured I’d come out here. Make a new life.”
“That’s where you got it twisted, 'cause it seems to me you’re still up to your usual bullshit.”
The bouncer handed Samson a baggie of white powder. “Caught him selling this at the back bar.”
“Ahhh, Tommy, you never learn.” Samson clucked his tongue. “I don’t wanna be here, and I’m sure as shit you don’t wanna be here, right?”
“Right, right,” Tommy eagerly agreed.
“But here we are, in the same position as we were a year ago in Brooklyn. If I remember correctly, you left with some broken bones that night.”
Tommy tried to move his arm. “Shit, my shoulder still ain’t right.”
“Shame, but it doesn’t seem like you learned your lesson 'cause we’re wading through the same bullshit all over again.”
“I thought Vegas was different. Sin City and all. You know, as in, anything goes.”
“Same rules as in New York.” Samson shook the baggie in front of Tommy’s face. “No junk in the club. No using it. No selling it.” Samson slapped the bag against the side of Tommy’s head, then tossed it to the bouncer. “You really are a stupid motherfucker.”
The bouncer let out a harsh laugh, but Samson kept his gaze trained on Tommy. “But not stupid enough to disobey the rules and get caught, so why don’t you tell me what’s goin’ on here.”
Tommy shrugged. “Just wanted to trade the fuckin’ cold for some nice, warm Vegas sun, and when I saw you opened this big new club, I had to check it out.”
Samson shot a glance over his shoulder to Jax. “You believe this bullshit?”
“Not for a minute, boss.”
“Want me to beat the shit outta him,” the bouncer offered, “then toss his ass out in the desert?”
“Not yet.”
