Page 68 of Samson

“Why not? Didn’t sleep well?”

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t, but I’m also sweaty after my run.”

He nodded.

“So,” she said. “Do you usually come to this café? I only ask because I come here a lot and haven’t seen you before today.”

“No, I’ve never been before.”

“Oh. Okay.” She wasn’t sure how to proceed. She’d never experienced this side of him before. Whatever Marc had done, it must have been drastic. “What brings you here this morning? It’s early for most people.”

“I know you come here. I wanted to see you.”

“How do you?—”

“You told me.”

“Did I?”

“Nope.”

She straightened. “Okay, you’re being weird. What is going on?”

“That’s why I’m here. To ask you.”

Her stomach tightened into a hard knot. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I had an unfortunate night last night.”

“Oh.” At least Marc had been truthful when he said he wouldn’t hurt Samson. “What happened?”

“I got a call from a Japanese gentleman who wanted to hire my services.”

“That’s good. Isn’t it?”

“Work’s work.”

She couldn’t read him at all. “You didn’t like what he had to offer?”

“That’s one way to put it. But it wasn’t the job that worried me. It was what happened after.”

All of her focus was on trying not to let the guilt show on her face. “Did he do something?”

“First, he offered mesake.”

“You don’t like it?”

“He put something in it.”

She scooted forward in her seat. “You mean he tried to poison you? But you’re okay.”

“It made me a bit fuzzy in the head. Like I’d drunk too much.”

“You sure you didn’t?”

Samson shook his head, more in disappointment than trying to convey a negative response. “I barely had any.”

“Okay.”

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