for that, I really am. This isn’t just about you, though. This is so much bigger.”
“As big as those scars?”
He nods to my arms where my shirt has ridden up to reveal deep, purple scars running up my inner arm. Scars that remind me every day of the moment where I couldn’t take it anymore, where I wanted to die. It was also the moment I decided to fight.
I jerk my shirt down and glare at him. “My life is none of your fucking business.”
“Then why are you here, Aviana? If you’re so fuckin’ angry, why are you here?”
“Because they need my help, and I want something in return ...”
“What might that be?”
“Cohen, his explanation, his reasoning as to why he killed my whole family and sent me away so nobody could find me.”
Samson glances at me. “You think Cohen has that kind of pull? He would have been doin’ as he was instructed. You’re aimin’ your anger at the wrong person. King is who you should be speakin’ to.”
“King isn’t the one who did it, Cohen is.”
“Cohen is part of a club, a club that deals with bad fuckin’ people. Your family, they’re bad fuckin’ people.”
I scowl at him. “Of course you’re going to defend the club, I shouldn’t expect any less.”
“Stop bein’ a fuckin’ brat and use your brain. I couldn’t give a fuck about you or anyone else right now, I just want my daughter back, and you’re the only fuckin’ person who knows where we can find her. Are you truly okay with seeking your own vengeance first, knowin’ she’s there with those monsters?”
No.
I’m not okay with that.
She’s an innocent girl, and the idea that she might be going through something awful, something I went through myself, is something I can’t fathom. It’s not something I’m comfortable with, especially when I know that I’m the only person who can save her from that.
I exhale and glance at Samson. “I’m not a fucking monster, I’m not like the rest of you. I’ll get her back, because I wouldn’t want anyone to suffer the way I did.”
Samson studies me. “What happened to you? You were fun-loving and happy, now you’re bitter and broken. Who hurt you?”
“Cohen,” I mutter. “Cohen hurt me.”
We both fall silent, and another drink is slid our way.
“Where is he, Aviana? Where is that piece of shit holding my little girl?”
“I know where she is. I know where to find the man who is running this entire operation. The silent partner. The monster behind the curtains. There’s only one problem with that ...”
“What’s that?” Samson asks, his voice rough.
“He terrifies me.”
“We’re not goin’ to let anything happen to you, if you’re helpin’ us, you’re protected.”
I laugh, bitterly, and take another shot. “If only I believed that.”
Silence again.
“You might not believe them, but you can believe me. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe because you can lead me to my daughter. You have my word on that.”
I look to him, and my eyes travel over his rugged face. “Do you want to fuck, Samson?”
My words come out blunt, and without emotion.
I lost emotion a long time ago.
If I want something, I ask for it.
If I don’t, I walk away.
My life is black and white, as black and white as it can be.
I’m not here to play games—I’m here to complete something important to me and then move on.
Get away from it all forever.
That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun in between, right?
Samson stares at me, and his eyes flash. “You always so forward?”
I shrug. “I know what I want, I ask for what I need. Do you have a problem with honesty, Samson?”
He narrows his eyes, and his gaze hardens. “You really are fuckin’ dead inside, aren’t you?”
“Are you going to answer my question, or will I go and find someone else who will?”
He stands and nods his head.
Very good.
I stand too and, without a word, I follow him into the back rooms after going down a long, dark hall. The music fades the farther we walk, and when Samson walks into an empty room with stacked chairs and tables, he turns to me. I don’t waste any time, I’m not here to kiss and make love, I’m here to fuck and do it hard.
I don’t want an attachment.
Or feelings.
Or anything else but the hard, throbbing cock of a man inside me.
That man, tonight, is going to be Samson.
He steps forward and his hand moves toward me, before curling around the