Page 51 of Freeing Denver
This is my first real meeting with Samuel Lok Shun Lau. Denver has told me a lot about him, and it boils down to a simple fact: he wasn’t supposed to be a made man, but he’s good at it. After close to an hour of work conversation, I agree with her. He’s willing to listen to negotiations and isn’t afraid to counter them.
Once work conversation has finished, Samuel orders an expensive bottle of whiskey, and Denver excuses herself to go to the bathroom.
“Do you visit New York often?” I ask as our drinks are poured.
Samuel shakes his head. “Once I moved to Maryland, I didn’t go anywhere else. That was where I wanted to be until I came home.”
“Small town more your thing?”
He quirks a brief smile. “I like the quiet. Cities aren’t quiet. People rushing everywhere …” He picks up his glass and admires the amber liquid. “I think even they’ve forgotten what they’re in such a hurry for.” He takes a small sip as I consider his words. “Will you miss it when you leave?”
“Nope.” It’s an easy answer.
“You’re sure? You’ve created an empire. You’re leaving it behind.”
I watch as Denver approaches the table. She gives me a wicked grin, her hips swaying as she closes the space between us with equal amounts grace and sass. I smile. “She’s my empire.”
When I realize Denver isn’t alone, I stand—Danielle McEwan is with her. Ronan’s sister is a regular visitor at the house, always by Ronan’s bedside when she isn’t working, and she hasn’t shed a tear. Not because she doesn’t feel anything, but because she’s a McEwan—she’s tough as fucking nails and told me crying feels pointless when it won’t bring anyone back or wake up her brother.
Her dark hair is peppered with snow, and she’s bundled up in a heavy coat.
“Look who I spotted in the lobby,” Denver says.
I hug Danielle and kiss her cold cheek. “What are you doing here?”
“I just dropped off a client’s dog,” she says. Danielle is a dog groomer, but I didn’t know she did drop-offs.
“Samuel, this is Danielle McEwan. Ronan McEwan’s sister,” I say. Samuel stands, adjusting his cuff, and then his gaze meets Danielle’s.
Thunderous rage crosses his expression.
“You,” he hisses.
Danielle looks equally enraged, her eyes widening. “You!” She snatches a glass off the table and tosses the drink in his face. A close-to-thousand-dollar glass of whiskey drips down the leader of the Triads’ face, and Danielle slams the glass back down. “That was worth the wait, you asshole!”
“Me?” Samuel advances on her. Denver and I watch on in total awe. “You fucking mugged me!”
“Mugged you?” I ask. “She’s a foot shorter than you.”
“She’s scrappy,” he snaps at me, then returns his attention to Danielle. “You owe me a pastry.”
Denver slaps a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “Danielle, you stole a pastry from him?”
“The details are irrelevant!” Danielle says, throwing her arms into the air. “You’re lucky I didn’t tase you, you fucker. He chased me! Two blocks! For a pastry!”
“It wasmypastry!”
Danielle narrows her eyes and pushes herself onto her tiptoes, but she’s still not even slightly eye level with him. “And it wasdelicious.”
Denver gets Danielle out of the hotel and sends her home, but not before the McEwan gives Samuel the finger and he returns the sentiment.
Tough as nails, like I said.
Samuel mumbles something about the meeting being over and waves us off before storming to his room, and Denver slumps back into her seat beside me.
“This is exhausting,” she says. “How did Finn keep everyone in line for so long?” I shrug and take her hand, tugging her back to her feet. She whimpers. “Can we sit for a little longer?”
“I got us a room,” I say. “Do you want to?—”
