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He’d told her fighting relieved his tension, but this seemed to have the exact opposite effect. “Just for a little while longer. Nothing to worry about.”
His telling her not to worry made her worry. The insecure part of her brain set off all kinds of alarms—memories of the last days they’d spent together all those years ago. She hadn’t seen it coming then but refused to be blindsided again. Maybe living together wasn’t as perfect for him as for her.
Samson’s phone buzzed, he dug it out of his pocket, made a face into the phone, then swiped at the call.
“Yeah?” Then he listened. “I’m on my way.” He huffed out a frustrated breath.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and grabbed his gym bag. “I gotta go.”
“First, tell me what’s going on.” Lisbeth’s heart kicked up with an irrational fear of letting him leave.
Samson closed the distance between them, his large body looming over her. “I’ve got it all under control.”
“You’ve got what under control?” She stared into his emotionless azure eyes. “If everything’s good then there should be nothing to control.”
“I told you it’s nothing.” They both heard the edge in his voice.
“Like ten years ago when you said the same words and I never heard from you again. I don’t want to have my heart broken again. I wouldn’t survive.”
“C’mon, babe, this is different. This is—”
“The same scenario.” She anchored her hands on her hips. “You act like you’re really into me and want to make us work, and then . . .”
He ran his hands down her arms. “I just need some time.”
“Time away from me? If your feelings have changed and you want me to leave, just say so.”
“Now you’re talking stupid.”
She huffed in a breath. “Did you just call me stupid?”
“What you said was stupid.” He angled his wrist to look at his watch.“We’ll work it all out later.”
“Why don’t you just stay home tonight.”
“Can’t.” He bit his bottom lip, a sure sign he was keeping something from her.
“Just tell me why going to the fight club is so important?”
“Don’t ask questions 'cause you might not like the answer.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Her voice rose and she didn’t care. “Just be honest with me and tell me the truth.”
Samson reached for her but she evaded his touch. “Don’t be this way.”
“It’s not me who’s keeping secrets.”
“I just don’t want you getting upset over shit that can’t be changed.” He grabbed his duffle bag and headed toward the door.
“You’re about three weeks too late.” She yelled at his back.
The door slammed behind him and the anger raging inside her turned to hot, silent tears slowly falling over her cheeks.
32
Samson entered the warehouse through the back door and headed straight for the locker room. Fighting four nights a week took its toll on his body and his mind, and now he had Lisbeth asking questions he couldn’t answer. He hated leaving her so upset, but he sure wasn’t about to tell her the deal he made with Frank or the scam they pulled off on Alex Monroe. As with most deception, one lie led to another and another. Just safer he kept her in the dark—no matter how much she hated it.
After tonight’s fight, he’d nail Frank down as to how much longer this bullshit would go down. Fuck, he’d already made over a hundred grand for him. How much more did the greedy sucker want? Nick’s words rang in his ears, telling him Frank was a bloodsucker, but what choice did he have?
