Page 33 of Wicked Lies

“Excuse me?”

“There’s nothing valuable in that safe.” Frank sighed with contentment. “But if I know Nick, he’ll want to come to your rescue now more than ever.”

“But—?”

“He likes a challenge, and you’re about as broken as they come.” Frank paused. “I assume he’s focused on Samson now?”

“You know about Samson getting beat up?”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “I had to keep him out of that office somehow.”

The words caught in her throat, and she gripped the doorframe to steady herself.

“That was just a test, and you passed.” Frank drew a deep breath. “The next time will be for real.”

The phone disconnected, but she kept it at her ear unable to fully process what just went down. He’d sent her to Nick’s office knowing she’d get caughtandhad Samson beat up. If she ever doubted Frank Barnett’s power, she was a believer now.

* * *

Nick enteredthe apartment over the club and found Jax pacing the living room. “What the hell happened?” Nick pulled off his loosened tie, shucked off his tuxedo jacket, and threw it over a chair.

“Shit, I thought you’d never get here.” Jax stopped pacing and blew out a long breath. “He was in the parking lot, and they ambushed him.” Jax didn’t rattle easily, so the amount of fear in his voice rattled Nick. Jax pointed toward the bedroom. “Doc just got here.”

Dr. Steven Henderson was the youngest cardiac surgeon at New York Medical Center. A rock star in the medical field with an addiction to poker. Nick let him sit in on their private games, and Steven took care of medical emergencies discreetly.

Nick stalked into the bedroom just as the doctor cut away Samson’s t-shirt. The harsh ceiling light magnified the red welts on his ribcage. His right eye and jawline were swollen and bruised, and his tight fists clenched the bedsheets.

“Those fuckers are gonna pay.” Samson’s rage shot through his pain.

Steven’s gaze darted between Nick and Samson, then he moved the stethoscope along Samson’s ribcage.

“Try to relax.” Nick patted his friend’s shoulder.

Steven pulled the stethoscope away from his ears and anchored it around his neck. “It would be best if you waited outside.”

“Forget it, I’m staying.” The doc wasn’t pleased, but no fuckin’ way was Nick leaving.

“I know you’re in pain,” Steven said to Samson, “but try to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I can’t breath—feel like I got a truck sitting on my chest.” Samson wheezed through blood-crusted lips.

Steven cast the t-shirt to the floor. “How did this happen?”

“They busted me up with a bat.”

“A baseball bat?” Steven asked.

“Yeah,” Samson rasped.

“Who?” Nick asked between clenched teeth.

“Hired muscle.” Samson stiffened as another spasm shot through him. “Frank's guys.”

Nick slammed his fist against the wall. “Fuckin’ bastards.”

Steven jumped, then stared at Nick.

“Why’re you looking at me?” Nick snapped, frustration coiling through him. “He’s in pain. Do something.”

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