Page 23 of Samson

“Yeah?”

“You look a million miles away.”

He was. At first, he’d thought his attraction to Delilah was as someone he wanted to conquer. There weren’t many he couldn’t. In fact, he couldn’t remember one. But as he’d walked back to his table, he began to suspect there was something else. She was a beautiful woman, but most people would consider the woman sitting beside him to be the more attractive one.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got some stuff going on.” Like being dismissed by a woman he was interested in. But tonight, he’d noticed something else. There was pain in her eyes and a maturity that came from overcoming loss. She had a strength of character that he rarely came across, and it reminded him how life used to be. It pricked him with a reminder of all that he had lost.

“Can you believe she called me ma’am?” Rebecca tugged on his arm after taking a sip of her drink. “She looks older than me.”

“I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with your age.”

“Then why would she say it?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” he said tersely.

Rebecca scoffed. “Like I’d waste my time caring what the waitress thinks.”

He’d spent years pushing down any shame associated with the life he’d been living. Hordes of people would kill for what he had, and yet, at that moment, he wanted to crawl under the table knowing that Delilah had seen him with this woman acting like she was. And she wasn’t the first. But it was his own fault. These were the women he chose. They had fewer strings attached.

“Samson?” Trevors knocked on the table to get his attention. “You okay?”

“Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get going soon, so it’s probably time to start talking business, if you don’t mind. That’s why you brought me here, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, of course, sorry. I lost track of time. Rebecca, if you’ll excuse us.” Samson stood, waiting for her to do the same.

She looked up at him, indignant. “You really think I’m a threat?”

“Please. I can call you a cab.”

“Who am I gonna tell? I want to hear how accurate the reports of your exploits are.”

“They’re not.”

“Please?” She pouted, and he had to work hard not to roll his eyes. “I thought this was supposed to be a date.”

Normally, he would have asked for a raincheck, but he didn’t want one. “Rebecca.”

“Fine.” She gulped her wine, then scooted her seat back and stood. “I’ll find my own way home.”

Samson sat back down and folded his hands on the table. “What have you got for me?”

Trevors watched her leave, then looked at Samson. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Chapter 7

“That’s the preliminary report,”Trevors said, handing Samson an envelope. “Who’s the girl?”

Samson lifted his eyes as he opened the envelope. “I told you, I met her at the gym.”

“Not Rebecca.”

“You mean the waitress?”

“Yeah.”

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