5. Samson
SAMSON
My mood darkens when I’m forced to step back from Rowan. It grows blacker with every step I take toward the Buckingham Manor.
I’m not sure why I hooked up with Rowan the first time, let alone this one.
Oh, right. It’s because I’m horny as fuck and Rowan is temptation personified.
At least I haven’t fucked him. I’m not sure why that’s important, but it is.
I might’ve gone to that motel expecting to do just that, but the instant I saw him standing in nothing but a scrap of lace, I was done for.
The rabbit hole opened, and I was tumbling down after him with nothing to slow my fall.
So, no. I can’t fuck him. If I cross that line, I’ll do something really fucking stupid.
Like lock him in my car and drive across several states so no one can ever hurt him.
Doesn’t really go with my job of assassinating him.
My temper ticks higher. I’m frustrated with the situation and how I’m denying myself. Not something I usually do. Normally I’m all about pleasure, whatever form it comes in.
This saintly shit isn’t for me. But it is for the best.
If I’m to keep my sanity.
I’m also pissed that my dance lesson was cut short. Dancing makes me happy. Dancing with Rowan? That was making me fucking ecstatic.
Until Wylder’s call interrupted everything.
Fucker.
By the time I slam my way into the conference room, I’m bristling with fury. “What the fuck is it this time?”
Several pairs of brows rise at my words. But it’s Wylder who answers me. “It’s the meeting we have at this time every week.”
Fuck. He’s right. Doesn’t mean I’m about to apologize. He interrupted something I’ve been fantasizing about. These damn meetings are getting old anyway.
Dropping into my chair, I pull out my dagger and stab it into the wooden table.
“Could you not destroy my furniture?”
I dig it in a little deeper. “Was hoping we could skip these meetings and you could send the info in an email.”
“You know I can’t do that. It could be hacked. Everything needs to be done here. In person.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. He has a point, but I won’t admit it. “Fine. Get on with it, then. I’ve got places to be.”
Like back in that dance studio with my hand around Rowan’s cock.
And, yeah, I know that’s not what I’m supposed to be doing with Rowan. But I can’t help myself. I look at him and…I stop thinking. It’s the only explanation as to why I keep touching him with my hands and mouth instead of my dagger.
“How about we start with you?” Wylder says, idly tapping his fingers on the table. “What’s your mission report on the Mitchell case?”
I don’t let anything show on my face. I’m good at that. We all are. My temper might be quick to rouse, but that’s the only area where I’m not in control.
Except with Rowan, apparently.
“It’s more complicated than I initially thought,” I say slowly. “I need a few more days.”
Across from me, Matthias looks confused. “Why? I gave you his location, his schedule, everything. It should have been taken care of by now.”
I scratch at my beard. “He’s more slippery than expected.”
“Why didn’t you say you needed help?” Neo asks, already opening his laptop. “It’ll take me less than a minute to find him.”
“No,” I bark. My hand shoots out and slams Neo’s laptop shut. “I’ve got it.”
Neo isn’t the only one gaping at me now. Every one of my brothers, plus Ansel and Wyatt, is staring. Scratch that, Wylder isn’t. He’s watching Neo carefully, probably trying to see if he’s upset about how I treated his laptop.
He must decide it’s fine, because he doesn’t throw a dagger or anything else at me. Wylder loses his mind where Neo is concerned.
Just like you with Rowan, you mean?
I scowl. No. This is just a temporary setback—a distraction from the job at hand.
A job I’m perfectly capable of completing.
And I will complete it.
Just after I enjoy my prey a little longer.
“Okay, I’ll ask, then.” Matthias sighs. “Samson, something’s obviously going on. Care to share with the class?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the P. “Everything’s fucking dandy.”
“Dandy,” Dalton repeats slowly. “Did you take up English diction lessons at the same time as dancing?”
I wrench the dagger from the table and flick it between my fingers.
“We don’t talk about the dancing.”
“No, we just rewatch the video.” Cade snickers. “Repeatedly.”
“He’s not lying,” Ansel adds. “He has a screenshot of it as the wallpaper on his phone and laptop.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. They always fucking mock me. Assholes.
“There is no problem,” I growl. “I just need a few more days.”
“Oh, there’s a problem all right,” Neo says in a sing-song voice. His laptop is open again, the screen illuminating the smirk on his face. “Watch this.”
He hits a button, and the screen on the wall lights up with Rowan’s face. Just the sight of it has my breaths coming out in quick succession.
“I don’t understand,” Matthias says. “He’s pretty, obviously. But Samson’s never been distracted by a mark before.”
Something rolls through me at that word. It’s vicious and deadly. Mark. Rowan’s face flashes up to meet it. His lips open on a desperate groan. Hands sliding over his torso as he dances. Hips pressed to mine as he tries to guide me with the beat.
Rowan is so much more than a mark.
That, right there. That’s the problem.
Fuck.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. I just need a few more days to get him out of my system. To make him show the evil he must be hiding. The evil that led to him brutally murdering his best friend.
Once I have that, I’ll be able to end him.
I will.
This is nothing more than infatuation.
“No. No, it’s more than that,” Neo says. “Watch.”
He hits another button, and the video plays.
And, just like every other time I’ve seen him dance, my entire world dissolves.
I can’t look away. Voices echo around me, but I don’t hear them. All that exists is Rowan on the screen, twisting and turning like the music is part of him. Or like he is the music.
It’s breathtaking.
Then, as fast as it began, it’s over. The screen turns black.
And the world comes roaring back in the form of my nosy fucking family.
“You’re right, this is definitely a fucking problem,” Dalton is saying to Wylder. “I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“Want to pass the case over to me?” Harley says, swinging on the back two legs of his chair. “I can have it done before the hour is out.”
My dagger is against Harley’s neck before he finishes talking. “No.”
Harley smirks, completely unbothered by the blood now trickling under the blade. “Don’t worry, boo, I’ll make it quick and clean. Out of respect, ya know?”
I snarl, but before I can decide whether it’s worth pushing the dagger deeper, there’s a set of hands on each of my biceps, another pair of arms around my waist.
Three of my brothers are pulling me away, but I hold firm. Then there’s a loud sigh, followed by the cool press of metal to my temple.
“Let him go,” Wylder says calmly. “You’re not going to kill him.”
“And you’re not going to kill me,” I growl. “So fuck off.”
“I won’t kill you, but I will pull you off the case,” Wylder warns. “So step down before you force my hand.”
I give Harley one more warning snarl before releasing him. “That was your fault. You pushed the wrong fucking button.”
“Actually, I think you’ll find I pushed the right one,” Harley says, still unfazed by what just transpired. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
I gape at him. “Excuse me?”
“Now we all know exactly how you feel about Rowan Mitchell,” Harley says, accepting a handkerchief from Ansel and dabbing at his neck. I roll my eyes at the sight. I barely scratched the fucker, and he should be grateful for it. “And exactly why this is fucking complicated.”
I blow a breath out of my nostrils. “Fine. He’s…interesting. Okay? Doesn’t affect my ability to do the job.”
Laughter breaks out all around me.
“Sure,” Cade chuckles. “Because you try and slit Harley’s throat over every mark.”
“He’s tried to murder him over Monopoly,” Wyatt says. “Not sure this is much different.”
“It’s very different,” Wylder says. He’s not laughing. He’s sitting back in his chair, his chin resting on steepled fingers. “Horseplay during game night doesn’t threaten everything The Firm stands for.”
I meet his gaze coolly. “Neither does this.”
Wylder juts his chin at my chair. “Explain.”
I shoot one more warning glare at Harley, then lower myself into my seat. Everyone retakes their chairs, but no one else settles back into them. They’re all waiting for me to lose it again.
A smart decision. I feel like I’m losing myself when it comes to this dancer.
“I can follow through,” I say quietly. “I just need more time.”
Dalton fixes me with a piercing stare. “Time to do what?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, tugging on my beard. “But I need it.”
“Samson, you should let one of us take over.” Matthias sighs. “This isn’t going to end well.”
“Or it could end with Samson coupled up like the rest of us.” We all turn to stare at Cade. He just shrugs. “What? I’m just saying what half of us are thinking.”
I swallow hard. “That’s not what’s happening here. He’s a job.”
“I was a job for Ansel,” he reminds me, reaching out to take his boyfriend’s hand. “Look how that ended up.”
“This is different,” I insist. “This isn’t a case of mistaken identity. Rowan Mitchell murdered Adam Willis. Right?”
The last part of my sentence is directed at Matthias, who nods slowly. “I can look over the evidence again, even get everyone else to take a look, but…it’s pretty damning.”
“Share it,” Wylder says, exchanging a look with Neo. “We’ll all take a look.”
I nod in thanks. If there’s a chance that Rowan isn’t guilty…I can’t risk it. I can’t take his life. It goes against everything we stand for.
He’s a dancer, for fuck’s sake.
One who throws daggers like an assassin and hooks up with guys he believes are dangerous.
“Even if he did kill him, there could have been a reason,” Ansel says quietly, drawing a circle on the table with his finger. “Maybe he didn’t have a choice.”
“We definitely need to look into it further,” Harley adds. “I think Samson should switch to protection detail until we’ve got more information.”
I twist to stare at him. His lips curl in amusement. “What? I like to wind you up, but I’m not a total prick.”
“A request was made of The Firm,” Wylder says, and there’s an uncertainty in his tone that has me on edge. “We’re supposed to honor it.”
“Only if it’s justified,” I shoot back. “What if it’s not?”
Wylder taps his fingers faster, and my heart ticks up in time with it. I need him on my side. If he’s not, if he pushes me to end this now…
“What if this was Neo?” I blurt out. “What if you got a request asking you to hurt him?”
“That argument won’t get you anywhere.” Dalton interrupts whatever Wylder was preparing to say. “Neo and Wylder are together. They’re in love. The same can’t be said for you and this Rowan.”
“Okay.” I grit my teeth as I turn my glare to Dalton. “What if it was Jackson?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Wyatt stiffen. But Matthias quickly grabs his shoulder and shakes his head.
At least some of my brothers have my back.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dalton blusters. “He doesn’t count either. He’s Wyatt’s brother. He’s practically family.”
“And if he weren’t?” My voice is deceptively calm. “If you’d never met him before and were ordered to kill him, could you do it?”
Dalton’s knuckles crack. He’s quiet for a solid minute. “Yes.”
“Really?” I push. “What if you saw him playing at a basketball game? Scoring the winning basket. Cheering and hugging his teammates, knowing it was his skill that got them there. Could you do it then?”
Jackson lost his leg in a car accident several years ago.
Thanks to Wyatt’s deal with The Firm, he landed himself the best physical therapy possible, along with the most cutting-edge prosthesis available.
They worked with him to get him in peak health, reigniting his love for basketball.
Watching him on a court is like watching Rowan dance.
Or it is for Dalton, I assume. He might not be aware of his own feelings for Jackson, but some of us are.
If this knowledge gives me a little longer to figure out the mystery that is Rowan, then yeah, I’ll manipulate the fuck out of it.
A muscle works in Dalton’s jaw. “Fine. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be able to do it.”
Wyatt is staring at Dalton while Matthias whispers in his ear.
I hope my brother is prepared to support his husband, because this Dalton and Jackson situation has “nuclear bomb” written all over it.
The only question is when it’s going to explode.
Sure, there’s an age gap, but it’s not huge.
Wylder and Neo have a similar age difference, and no one batted an eye at them. Jackson’s well into adulthood now.
Even if Dalton doesn’t want to acknowledge that little fact.
I meet Wylder’s eyes. We might be taking more of the workload off him, but he’s still the head of The Firm. It’s him I need to win over. “Please, Wylder. I just need fucking time.”
Wylder’s eyelid twitches, but he nods. “I’ll give you a week. In that time, we’ll go over the evidence and make sure the case is watertight. If something is amiss and we got this wrong, we need to reevaluate our entire process.”
“Thank you.” I sag back in my chair.
“But we are never wrong. So when we can prove it’s him, he needs to die,” Wylder adds ominously. “And if you can’t do it, then one of us will.”