Page 81 of Samson

“You can’t do this.”

Marc shifted his arm and pulled the trigger. Delilah screamed and Luca cried out, grabbing his leg. This time, Marc let her go to him.

She pressed her hand against the wound. “Stop it,” she whimpered. “Leave him alone. You’re a monster.”

“I’m glad you finally recognize that. Maybe now you’ll cooperate.”

“Please. I don’t know anything.”

Marc shrugged. “You could be telling me the truth, or you could be trying to protect Samson. Unfortunately, there’s only one way to find out which.”

He aimed, and Delilah screamed. “He has family!”

“Barely. I know from reliable sources that there’s no love lost between him and his dad. There’s not much we can threaten him with there.”

“He has a daughter.” Her throat collapsed against her breath. She hadn’t meant to say it.

Marc shifted back a step. “What?”

“Please, leave us alone.”

“Samson’s daughter is dead. She died in a car accident years ago.”

“Please go.”

“If she’s alive, then where is she?”

“I don’t know. I swear.”

“Then that information is no help at all.” He aimed again.

“With her grandmother!” Delilah yelled, laying her body across Luca’s.

“Samson’s mom is dead. You must mean his dead wife’s mom.”

She couldn’t speak past the sob she was holding onto.

Marc lowered his weapon. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Go.”

“You only have yourself to blame. If you would have shared that information at the start, none of this would have happened. It’s your own fault.”

“Luca’s debt is settled,” she said. “Leave us alone.”

“Same deal as before. If your intel is good, I won’t need you anymore anyway. But if we have a repeat of your previously shared secret, or if you warn him that you’ve told me about his daughter, I’ll come back and finish the job I started. That includes you and everyone else I can think of.”

He slid his gun into its holster and left the apartment.

Delilah pulled her phone out and called an ambulance before collapsing to the floor in a heaving sob.

Chapter 18

Samson knockedon the wooden door, then picked at the chipping paint on the frame. Last time he’d visited, the house hadn’t been so run down.

The door opened, and his dad appeared with his usual frown.

“Samson? What’s wrong?”

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