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“Now tell me what you know about him.” Samson leaned in. “I saw the two of you together at the Valley View warehouse, so don’t give me some bullshit story about not knowing him.”
“Always so impatient.” Frank sipped at his bourbon and then held up the glass. “This one of the top-rated bourbons”—he swirled the amber liquid—“because the distillery takes the time to age it properly.”
Samson pushed his glass aside. “I don’t give a shit about making bourbon. I asked you about Alex Monroe and what you know about him.”
“When I took you in, you were nothing more than a hot-headed street hood working the corner. Your only ambitions centered around getting your dick wet and your next hit of blow. Now, you’re out here running some high-end club.” Frank narrowed his eyes. “Do you think this would’ve happened without my input all those years ago?”
Just as Samson guessed, Frank would make him work for it. There was truth to what he said. Most times, Samson had been out of control and headed full speed for a brick wall.
“You’re right.” Might as well give the fucker what he wanted. “But it’s a new day, and the kind of bullshit Monroe is pulling isn’t good for any of us, so let's cut the trip down memory lane.”
Frank ran his forefinger around the rim of the glass. “He set up the raid on your club the other night.”
“Figured as much.” Now for the real question. “Did you know about it beforehand, and were you in on it with him?”
“I don’t have any need to get involved in his brand of business.”
Samson gripped the edge of the bar. Typical Frank, answering a question without an honest answer.
“So, you know the kind of shit he’s into?”
Frank finished off his bourbon. “Why don’t we cut to the chase, and you tell me why we’re having his meet.”
Now, who was being fuckin’ impatient? Samson kept that thought to himself.
“I need as much intel on Alex Monroe as you can get, then I wanna set him up in a way that makes me his savior.”
Frank slowly nodded, then twisted his lips together. “Similar to the setup we pulled off at the Waldorf with that congressman?”
“Exactly.”
Frank cocked an eyebrow. “This is gonna cost you.”
“I got the money.”
“I’m not interested in money, but it's kinda funny how you came out here to get away from me and my associates, and now you want a favor—a very big favor.”
“All right, name it.”
“A piece of Wicked and a percentage of Valley View.”
Samson sucked in a deep breath. He knew the price would be high but wasn’t prepared for just how high.
“That’s asking a lot.”
“Your favor has a lot of moving parts, or did you forget exactly how this scam goes down?”
This was Samson’s moment of truth. No doubt he wanted to keep Lisbeth safe and in his life without any interference from the Monroes, but—
“Percentage of Valley View, but not Wicked.”
“I understand that girl you hung out with at the Oasis is here too.” Frank paused a beat. “I know I taught you not to believe in coincidences, so I guess this has something to do with her being engaged to Alex’s son, Edward?”
“She broke it off with him, but yeah. They trashed her apartment, and I wanna make sure they don’t get any other ideas.”
“Smart. Taking care of shit before it gets out of hand. I still need more incentive than just a percentage of the fight club.”
Samson leveled Frank with a steely glare.
