Page 18 of Wicked Temptation

Cobra came up alongside him and shoulder-butted him. “Again, sorry for getting in between you and that hot piece.”

“Nah, she was just here to talk business.” No sense tipping his hand too soon, although he would never forget how well they’d fit together, craving and needing each other in way more ways than just physical. Samson respected her simple ideas about life, but he also loved how her quiet demeanor turned into a hellcat between the sheets. Under all her classiness was his sex kitten dying to claw her way out. Fuck yeah, if she wanted to use those claws on him, that was just fine.

“Yeah, right!” Cobra barked out a laugh. “That’s why you ordered up a three-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne.”

“Four hundred dollars, but I’m still impressed you even know what Dom is.” Samson quirked an eyebrow, egging on the MC president. It wasn’t often the serious fucker let his guard down, and Samson wanted to enjoy it. When they’d first met, their alpha personalities collided, but over the last six months, they formed a bond based on mutual respect.

“Point is, wiseass, you don’t spend that kinda money on just any bitch.”

“Did you forget I own this place?”

“Don’t matter. You gotta pay for it one way or the other.” Cobra followed his words with a knowing look.

Cobra’s words rang in Samson’s ears, along with Nick’s voice saying,“Don’t shit where you eat,”but sometimes you just had to scratch that itch, even if it left a scar.

Samson hadn’t expected his past to walk into his new Vegas club on opening night, but there she was, all grown up and looking hot as fuck. Like all those years ago, Lisbeth stirred something in him, and being with her made him a better person.

Samson crossed the room, picked up his glass, and threw back the whiskey, mentally making it his last. Over the years, he’d learned the skill of moderation, unlike his younger days when he lived on the edge—most times over the edge. Although coke dominated his life then, he knew now that business came first because they’d come too far to fuck it up.

“So, who’s the sexy bitch?” Mamba leaned in, his eyes wide.

“Yeah, we all wanna know,” Boa added.

Over the last year, Samson grew to understand and genuinely like the Serpents. They handled their business differently than he and Nick, but the alliances were the same, along with values of loyalty and commitment to each other. The Serpents paved the way and made opening Wicked smoother than expected. Their connections at Metro and the city planning committee ensured accelerated variances and waived inspections, making it a stress-free experience and now what looked like a profitable business.

“Geez, you’re like a bunch of gossipy girls.”Whoops,and fist pumps followed Samson’s comment.

“Oh, no.” Madeline waved a hand over herself. “Don’t put me in that category. You guys gossip way more than any girls I ever knew.” She bugged out her eyes for effect. “And I worked in a strip club.”

They all laughed, and Madeline added, “I’m surprised you didn’t scare her off with all your trash talk.” Then she turned to Samson. “She did seem sweet. I’m gonna talk to her about Rattler’s party.”

“I’ll have her give you a call when we meet up next week to discuss business.”

Right—ifbusinessincluded picking up where they left off ten years ago.

Cobra barked out a laugh, jarring him from his erotic haze.

“The stupid look on your face says you got more than business on your mind, brother.”

7

“Looks like opening night was a success.” Nick punched at the keyboard, then examined another screen displaying inventory and sales in his office at Wicked as the bright Vegas sun shone through the windows on Monday morning.

He’d flown in on the redeye from New York, and after only a few hours of sleep, Nick insisted on coming to the club, anxious to look at the numbers, then meeting with Alex Monroe.

“Total fuckin’ success.” Samson leaned forward in the chair opposite his desk, happy to be back in worn jeans, a band t-shirt, and engineer boots.

Nick silently looked over more screens, then turned from the computer.

“Glad to finally be out here away from the bullshit in New York. Probably have to go back again next month for another deposition, but our lawyers seem confident they can wipe us clean of any involvement.”

“The jerk-off quarterback probably paid big bucks for a fake ID to trick the scanners because it came up legit when they carded her at the door.”

“I’m sure he’s rethinking his decision.” Nick stifled a yawn. “Everything here looks good, except for that mook, Tommy. Can’t believe he showed his ugly face in Vegas.”

“Some people never learn.” Samson smirked. “Although I think he got the message this time,” especially after the bouncer dropped him ten miles out in the desert, beat to shit without a cell phone. “Thought the whole reason for moving here was to leave the bullshit back East.”

Samson had his reservations about this move to Vegas. He didn’t do well with change, and the differences between Manhattan’s glitz and Vegas’s neon desert consumed him. He’d spent six months down in Laughlin, cultivating the fight club, putting together the fighters, and learning the ropes, but moving the club business out here, too, seemed extreme.

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