Page 36 of Craving Danger

“Why would that be funny?”

She tilts her head back to meet my eyes. “Men and women can’t be friends.”

“Why?”

She shrugs before settling her temple against my shoulder again. “Someone always ruins the friendship by falling in love, then the other party feels obligated to try, and everything just ends up going to hell.”

“It sounds like you’re talking from personal experience.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I am.”

Samantha is quiet for a moment before she continues to talk. “I used to work at a hospital in Houston. I met a neurosurgeon there…”

She pauses for a moment, and her hand begins to tremble in mine. Realizing this is hard for her to talk about, I brush my thumb over her soft skin.

“We quickly became friends. He fell in love with me, and because I thought the world of him, I gave a relationship between us a chance.”

I’m so caught up in what Samantha’s saying, I can’t stop myself from asking, “What happened?”

“I realized it wasn’t going to work, and when I tried to put some distance between us…”

The air tenses around us, and she pulls her hand free from mine so she can wrap her arms around her waist.

“He became more and more controlling. Things got bad, and I left Houston to make a fresh start here.”

Things got bad.

Anger fills my chest, and my jaw clenches as the muscles in my body tighten.

So the fucker who hurt her is a neurosurgeon in Houston. I’m sure I can find the hospital’s name in Samantha’s file at work. She must’ve had a work reference from her previous place of employment.

Knowing I need to say something, I focus on keeping my tone gentle as I say, “I’m sorry that happened.”

She just shrugs and continues to stare at her lap.

Suddenly my phone starts vibrating in my pocket, and I pull the device out. Seeing Renzo’s name flashing on the screen, I say, “I have to take this call. Give me a moment.”

“Sure.”

Getting up, I walk to the door and step out of the room before answering, “What’s up?”

“There’s a problem. One of the trucks was ambushed.”

“Fuck,” I hiss. I quickly pull the door shut behind me so Samantha won’t hear me, then ask, “Which truck?”

“The one Steve was driving. Whoever stole my shipment sent us a message.”

“What kind of message?”

“They fucking nailed Steve to the side of the trailer.”

Christ.

“Tell me you’re not by the truck.”

“I’m not. I sent Carlo to take care of things.”

“Tell him to be careful.”

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