Page 58 of Hers to Control

He looks around. “And why are you doing that?” His voice is laced with something other than mere suspicion now. Fear, if his expression tells me anything. “If the Russians hear you’ve visited me, it’ll only get worse. You can’t think I’m able to pay you. I’m not able to do anything for you in here.”

The asshole thinks I’m looking after Mia to get him to work for us. The thought is ridiculous enough that I snort. “You’re worth shit to me. What I want from you are answers.” Staring himdown, I put out the facts. “I know you stole from the Russians. Fine. You beat up their guy, and they came after Mia. That isn’t much of a fucking mystery, but you’re still walking around, and I’m asking myself why. Mikhail Tsepov killed your buddy, Hank, so they didn’t keep him breathing. I want to know how much money this is about and whether there is anything else I need to know to get Mia disentangled from your shit.”

Samson raises his chin. “Why do you care?”

He wants an explanation? Fine, I’ll give him the bare minimum. “Mia’s safe right now, but they made their intentions clear. Mia is a game piece. They won’t stop until they get what they want. I need to know what that is. Money, revenge, something more?”

When Mia brought her father up yesterday, it occurred to me that his continued existence isn’t the usual M.O. of the Bratva. Before, I’d been too focused on Mia to reflect on that. But now? Well, it’s time to cut loose threads, and this man is dangling around my field of vision like a mother fucking thorn in my eye. He doesn’t need to know that it very well may be Mikhail the Russians are trying to pressure by going after Mia. The fact that Samson isn’t dead meat means he’s active on the game board, and I don’t like the possibility that he fucks up one of my moves because I don’t know what side he’s playing for.

Right now, I need to know everything that might mess with my plans to keep Mia safe, and her asshole father is definitely part of it.

Samson runs a hand through his hair, his expression pained. “I never wanted any of this for her,” he murmurs, his voice thick with regret that almost sounds genuine.

“Right, you’ve been a fucking great father.” I stare at him. “Stop with the bullshit and tell me what went down. From the start.”

“I stole money from them for four years, siphoning off the ledgers in the strip clubs. Hank was in on it, but I was better at working the numbers, so I covered more of the clubs than he did. It wasn’t all that hard. I mean, they make nearly ten thousand a day in each club and I never took more than five percent of that. That was two thousand a day for each of us on most days. It was damn good money. We got nearly five million over four years, and most of my share, I moved offshore and into crypto accounts. But eventually, they caught on to the missing dough. That’s how I ended up here.” Samson gestures around like I need an explanation of what he means.

“When Hank was still out there, they insisted I’m to work off my debt in here by doing their dirty work for them, thinking Hank was the one with access to the actual cash. Once they killed him, though? Well, they figured out I still have my share of the take.” He shakes his head. “I should have just given the codes to them. Not that I have access to anything from in here. But, hell, I figured it’s all I’ve got left to give to Mia, so I told them I didn’t have shit. That Hank must have taken the money and lied. They threatened to go after my Mia, and I lost my temper. I’m not much of a fighter, but I beat that guy up pretty good before the guards came.” The way Samson is staring down at his knuckles instead of making eye contact makes me think he wasn’t as tough as he would have me believe. Or maybe he’s lying to himself. Needing to feel less pathetic. The man might be smart with numbers, but he sure as hell isn’t ranking high in a place like this.

I stay silent, and eventually, Samson keeps talking. “I’d planned on doing better by Mia after I get out. It’s no secret that I’m a shitty father. The fucked up things she had to do for me…” He trails off, but I jerk my head at him to continue. So far, nothing he’s told me is of any help.

He shakes his head. “None of that matters now. All of it only got her into more danger, and they’re still after me for the money. They’re just waiting for things to cool after the last incident. I’m going to have to give them everything, and I’m not sure that’ll be enough.” He’s fidgeting in his chair like he expects a Russian to jump him any moment now.

“This isn’t about you. I’m here for Mia.” I remind him, itching to slap some sense into the guy. Obviously, the Russians won’t let him live now, but that’s hardly the issue here. He’s a disloyal shit, more concerned about his own well-being than his daughter’s.

Finally, he looks at me. “I’m no good for her. I thought they would have killed her by now.” He says it like it’s a done deal, and the fact that my knife is locked in my car is a fucking shame.

Something else doesn’t add up, though, and I’m done with knowing only half the story. “You say you stole from the Russians, but you’re here for manslaughter. Why is that?”

He looks around at the other tables nervously. “When one of the managers started to suspect that I was stealing from them, he came to my place. It wasn’t planned, but I killed the guy. We made it look like it had been an accident. Like we thought he was a burglar, and I killed him in self-defense. When it was done, I turned myself in so the Russians wouldn’t get to me. Fucking good that did me. They bought the story at first, but then Hank messed up some numbers and Tsepov figured out we stole from him.”

I’m clenching my teeth so hard that relaxing my jaw to speak is difficult. Eventually, I manage, though. “You got yourself arrested and left Mia to fend for herself.”

Samson nods, like it makes total sense. “She didn’t need me anymore.”

We both know he’s lying to himself. A deadbeat father who’s making excuses. I let him sit in that for a moment before I press him more.

“You said Mia had to do stuff for you. What kind of stuff?”

He shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter now.”

“The hell it doesn’t matter.” I lean toward him, lowering my voice. “The Russians aren’t the only ones who have people in here, you know? You better start answering my questions, otherwise, you might find yourself in even deeper shit than you’re already in.”

He doesn’t need to know that he won’t walk away from this either way. That would just ruin this conversation for both of us.

“Shit man. Fine, I’ll tell you. When the manager came after me, she was around, okay? My best bet about why the guy came alone was that he wanted to get paid off. Didn’t work out for him. But Mia was there, so I had her help me move the body, thinking I might be able to get away with it looking like self-defense, you know? Next day, the Russians immediately started asking questions. That’s when I turned myself in.”

Samson actually starts sobbing, making me want to smash his head into the tabletop.

“I really fucked it up with my little girl, but my Mia has always been loyal. She never gave up on me, so when I ended up here, I wanted to do better. Leave her something when I’m gone for good, you know? I did just enough damage to the guy to end up in isolation, hoping that would buy me some time to figure shit out, but when I got out, they told me they’d gone after her. That’s when I knew I’d never be able to help her. I’m just no good for her.”

The fucker doesn’t even realize that all he’s doing is whining about himself. Pissing himself because he failed, rather than focusing on what Mia went through. If an asshole like me can seethat, the guy is too fucked up to ever have a chance to turn into a useful human being.

Mia will be better off without him, but first there is one more thing I need from him.

“Your daughter is the bravest woman I know, but the shit she’s gone through because of you pushed her to her limit. She’s fled her home and had to give up on the career she’s worked hard to build. Then they took her, beat her, and pretended to drug her. I can’t have that. Not for her and definitely not for our child that she’s carrying. This is my business now, and it’s going to end.”

Samson listens in stunned silence, his features growing increasingly pale as I speak. When I finish, he leans back in his chair. “Pregnant?” he asks, his voice barely audible. “Mia’s pregnant?”

---