Page 94 of The Love You Fight For
None of this is adding up.
“Then why is she actively working to get her father elected president?” I ask, more to myself than to Macon, but I see himshake his head, his eyebrows rising as he chews on his licorice stick.
“I don’t think she is, man.”
I let his words sink into my consciousness. I don’t think she is.I roll them over in my head.
“Are you saying she’s trying to sabotage him from the inside?”
Macon shrugs.
“I wouldn’t put it past her. Her father and his friends? They’re fucking snakes. A pit of fucking vipers. But Sam? She can don a snakeskin just as flawlessly as the rest of them. She’s clever, and she’s fucking vicious.”
He looks at me finally, and I see the truth in his eyes. He doesn’t know, not really, but deep down, heknows. And the more I think it over, the more I believe it, too.
Sam’s not a reincarnation of Nemesis.
She’s a modern-day Medusa, and she’s seeking retribution.
It’s an almostfour-hour drive to Sam’s condo in D.C.
I got the address from Lennon, and it’s nearly eleven when I pull up to her building. It’s hard to find parking in my truck, and I have to settle for a parallel spot a few blocks away before I can actually set foot in the building lobby.
“Can I help you, sir?” the man behind the security desk asks.
“I’m here to see Sam Harper,” I say.
He looks me up and down with a blank face. I know how I look.
Worn blue jeans. Worn The Outpost T-shirt. Scuffed-up boots. Backward ball cap. Tattoos.
I’m probably the exact opposite of the kind of guy who typically calls on someone like Sam, but I don’t let his scrutiny get to me. I don’t give two fucks what he thinks. I’m just here to talk to my girl.
“Ms. Harper is not in at the moment, sir,” the man says.
“I’ll wait.”
He arches a brow.
“Is she expecting you?”
His hand reaches to something on the desk, but he doesn’t look down. This fucker is going to call security on me. I give him a smile.
“She is.” I nod. “I’m a little early, though. I’ll wait outside. Thanks for your help.”
I don’t give him a chance to respond. I just turn around and leave. I head down the street a few feet, so I’m no longer visible through the glass doors, and then I lean on a lamppost. Luckily, it’s a nice night. It’s warm and there’s a nice breeze. Sam lives in a ritzy part of the city, so I’m not worried about gettin’ mugged, either.
None of it matters, though, because I don’t have to wait long. The moment a black luxury car turns onto her street, I know it’s Sam. I stand straight and don’t take my eyes off the vehicle as it drives past me and pulls up to the curb.
I watch as the back door on the driver’s side opens and Ashton Cartwright steps out. He rounds the car to the other back door, then pulls it open and offers the passenger his hand.
Sam’s hand.
She grabs it, then slowly she reveals herself to me. Her black platform heels are sky-high and buckle around her ankle. Her smooth legs follow before they disappear beneath the skirt of a tight red dress, and when she stands to her full height—taller than Ashton, I notice—her blond hair is cascading down her back in loose waves.
She’s breathtaking, and I hate how my pulse spikes even when she’s with another man.
When she turns, the light from the streetlamp glints off the diamonds in her ears, and I know they match the necklace. I know in my gut they’re another gift from Ashton.
