AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The bouncer nodded, stepped in front of Tommy, and began pummeling the bastard. Samson and Jax left the padded room to the sound of Tommy’s frantic pleas and flesh hitting flesh. The doorwhooshedclosed, and they were immediately surrounded by silence.
Samson cocked his head. “Nothing like padded walls to block out the bullshit.”
“I had them use the same shit on the walls as in New York.”
Samson made a mental note to relay this information to Nick. They had all worked for Frank, who was a vengeful bastard, pulled all the strings, then bled them dry. He never gave up and still thought they owed him for setting them up at the Oasis all those years ago.
They’d long since paid their debt with profits from the Brooklyn and Manhattan clubs, but Frank didn’t see it that way. To him, they’d be obligated forever.
4
Two thousand miles away from New York, yet the same shit had a way of finding him. He and Jax exchanged a look as they approached his office and found one of the other bouncers holding a guy in a vice grip.
“What the fuck now?” Samson growled, his patience completely gone.
“Found this guy trying to slip out the back door. He was with that jerk-off, Tommy.” The bouncer pushed the skinny shit in front of Samson.
“Goddamn, I don’t have time for this bullshit.” Samson slammed the guy’s back against the wall, then slapped his hand inches from his head. “I’m already in a bad fuckin’ mood, and you ain’t making it any better.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “I didn’t do shit. I just wanted a little blow.”
Samson closed his eyes, shook his head, then spun around to the bouncer. “Take him downstairs and make sure he understands there’s no junk in this club.”
The bouncer frog-marched the guy down the back hallway past the restrooms.
* * *
Lisbeth ran a paper towel under cold water and then held it to her neck, but it did little to quell the barrage of memories flooding her brain, memories she’d buried long ago and had no place in her present life.
She stared into the mirror and reminded herself she owned a business and was about to marry a wonderful man she loved. Samson popping up out of the blue wasn’t part of her plan, and she wouldn’t allow it to haunt her. She’d never shared anything about her past in New York with Edward, and she had no intentions of doing so now.
Lisbeth threw away the towel, feeling somewhat more in control, and pulled open the door, stepped into the alcove, and heard gruff voices, then a thud. She peered around the corner into the shadowy hallway and saw Samson hovering over another guy. His snarling growl filtered over the music’s dull pulse, but she couldn’t make out his angry words. Samson shoved him again, and the man’s head snapped back and hit the wall. More threats, then Samson and the other guy moved down the hall. She ducked into the alcove that housed the restrooms, and they passed her unnoticed.
“Make sure he and that fucker, Tommy, get the message,” Samson said. “Then take their sorry asses out to the desert and dump 'em.”
* * *
“You need anything else, boss?” Jax asked.
Samson unlocked his office door, then examined his bloody knuckles. “Give me fifteen minutes to wash this stupid fucker off, then get me the redhead sitting in the VIP at table five.”
“You sure you don’t mean the blonde? She seemed more your type.”
“Nah, she’s the bride-to-be.” He’d done some fucked up shit in his life, but he wasn’t that guy. Samson steered clear of that drama whether they were married or about to be. Anyway, he wanted to talk to Lisbeth, find out if she even remembered him, then get their nostalgia out in the open and see where it took them. They were older, hopefully, wiser, and away from the bullshit in New York. Who knew, maybe second chances were possible, but first, he’d play it cool and feel her out. Perhaps she had an angle of her own.
“You’re not coming back out on the floor?” Jax asked.
“I need a break from the bullshit.” Samson cracked his neck. “You got a fuck-load of security out there, and if something else goes sideways, I’m right here.”
Only one hour into the night, he’d already busted a few heads and had his forbidden temptation show up in the VIP. Shit, if this were the old days, he would’ve had three lines racked up by now.
“You got it, boss.”
Samson examined his cut-up, bruised knuckles, then noticed the blood on the cuffs of his shirt. “Fuck.” He undid the buttons and pitched it into the wastebasket at the side of his desk. It wasn’t worth cleaning since he had no intention of wearing the uncomfortable shirt again.
He crossed the room and headed for the en-suite bathroom with a shower and steam room. The offices were twice the size of what they shared in the New York club. Nick insisted on going big in Vegas, and between the full bath, plush carpet, and top-of-the-line furniture, this place was larger and much nicer than his first apartment in Brooklyn.
Samson turned the faucet on full blast and scrubbed at his hands. Fuckin’ blood was impossible to wash off. He reached for the peroxide under the cabinet, poured a generous amount over both hands, and grimaced when it hit his cut knuckles; finally, the stains faded. He dried his hands, went back into the office, and his phone buzzed. After checking the caller ID, he swiped at the screen.
