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After years of friendship, Samson could always see through him. Fuckin’ annoying.
“You’re gonna think I’m crazy.”
Samson huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Won’t be the first time.”
“I thought I saw Cheryl again.”
Samson rested his palms on his knees. “What?”
“At Russo’s party.”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Samson dragged his hand through his hair. “What the fuck would she be doin’ at his party?”
“I know, it don’t make sense but?—”
“Saturday night you get yourself so fucked up you claim you saw her in the VIP, and now you’re seeing her at some random party.” Samson grabbed for his smokes.
“I swear to fuck it was her but when I asked one of the waiters, he said it was Johnny’s wife, Marie Russo. The same name the escort gave me when I asked her about a woman sitting at Turner’s table on Saturday.”
“There’s your answer.” Samson flicked his lighter. “It wasn’t Cheryl.”
“Pretty big coincidence if you ask me.” Nick anticipated Samson’s next comment. “Yeah, I know, there’s no such thing as coincidences.”
“You’re reading too much into this,” Samson said around a cloud of smoke. “Or, you’re losing your damn mind.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought it.” Nick knocked out his own cigarette and lit up. “I just can’t shake this wonky feeling it was her.”
Samson drew deep on his smoke silently examining Nick. “You did a deep search ten years ago, and nothing, then we came out here a year ago and you had the Serpents do a search. Again, nothing. Wherever Cheryl is and whatever she’s doing she obviously doesn’t wanna be found.”
“I always wondered if she knew all along she was Frank’s daughter.” Nick mashed his lips together. “It still fucks with me.”
“Either way, if she knew he was her father when we were in Brooklyn she’d definitely wanna change her name and if she didn’t she probably changed it to put all the New York bullshit behind her.”
“You including me in all that bullshit?”
“You can’t deny it was a fucked up time. Frank was turning the screws hard. She was probably scared. I mean, shit can you blame her? She witnessed a murder and a fuckin’ shootout.”
Fucked up, for sure. Alone at night Nick relived every second of the night Cheryl walked out.
“People don’t just disappear into thin air.” Nick refused to believe Samson’s words.
“They can if they want to. After we broke away from Frank, you legally changed your last name from Santoro to Sinclair, so what’s to say she didn’t do the same thing? Cheryl Benson doesn’t exist anymore and the sooner you accept it the better off you’ll be.”
Samson was right. If this was anybody else still moaning after some woman Nick would be calling them a pussy, but when Cheryl left the open wound never healed. If anything it festered over the years.
“Even if by chance you did catch up with her, there’s been too much time. She’s probably a completely different person now with a whole new life.”
“You’re probably right.” Nick said what Samson expected, but in his heart he knew different.
“You gotta put this shit behind you once and for all.”
A knock on the door drew their eyes to Cobra and Mamba entering the office. They all did the man-hug back slap thing then settled on the couch and chairs around the glass coffee table while Samson brought over a bottle of Jack Daniels and four glasses.
“Looks like you got a good crowd tonight,” Cobra offered.
The Serpents were the largest MC in southern Nevada, and one of the most powerful in the state. Samson’s connection with Mamba, the Serpent’s enforcer, began when he was scoping him out as a cage-fighter at the MC’s warehouse by the airport. Now, he ran Wicked’s security team.
Cobra, the club’s president, used his political pull ensuring Club Wicked opened in record time. He also bridged an alliance with Metro, the Clark County police department.
