Page 30 of Brutal
I open my eyes abruptly and turn toward the window.
Enough.
Think about something else.
The marina. The bartender. Already going to happen.
My breathing evens out as my thoughts sharpen again.
Multiple men. Raised voices. Someone pulled back. Not pushed. Pulled back.
If he was pulled back, then the fall wasn’t the beginning. It was the end. Which means someone knew where it was going.
My stomach tightens again.
Was Samson Vexley there?
The question settles heavier than I want it to.
If Samson Vexley was standing on that dock, he knows what really happened.
Not the version that made it into a report.
The truth.
And if he knows, I’m not going to get it from a conversation across a table he chose, where we dine on a menu he ordered.
He dictated everything about tonight.
The place. The distance. The timing. The food and drink.
Even the moment it ended.
I was inside something he controlled completely.
That’s why I didn’t get what I needed. I was playing inside his space.
I need to see him somewhere else.
The car slows. We’re nearing my building.
Good.
I can work with this.
I grab my purse and notice my phone. I put it on silent during dinner, so I grab it to see if anyone has called.
Damn.
A text from Samson. I click on it.
Next time, you come to me.
My breath catches.
It’s not an invitation. Not even a question.
A direction. A command.
