Four Seconds to Lose

It took Sam Arnoni exactly twenty-five days to find me.

“He’s asking for you,” Nate announces from my office entrance as John and I watch the tall man in a charcoal-colored suit over the monitor. I knew it was him the second I laid eyes on him. Dan left his files for me with the requirement that they stay locked in my safe at all times. I gladly followed instruction, except for that one picture of Charlie, of course. That one, I folded up and tucked into my pocket, to pull out whenever I felt the need.

Turns out I feel the need at least forty times a day.

I memorized every detail about the man who turned his own stepdaughter into a drug trafficker. I know all about his many businesses. I know his approximate weight, height, birth city. I could describe the family crest tattooed to his chest if I had to.

Yes, Sam Arnoni is my enemy and I like to know everything about my enemy.

“Okay, I’m on my way,” I tell Nate, adding, “Keep the girls away from him.” I turn to John, who decided to extend his stay in Miami and turn it into a vacation. Apparently his vacation means watching from the shadows to see if anyone’s tailing me.

“You want me to call Dan?”

“No,” I answer quickly. Not until I decide what to do. “I need to know where I can find this guy at all times.”

“I’m on it.” Wheeling up the extra chair to the computer, he pans to the video feeds from the parking lot and begins rewinding. I assume it’s to locate Sam’s car. “You go wine and dine that scumbag.”

“Thanks, John. And be careful.”

“You too, Cain.” There’s a hint of something in John’s voice now that I can’t decipher. I wonder if he’s thinking about the last time he got involved in one of these situations with me. He must be wondering what I’m planning now. How far I’m willing to go to protect Charlie.

I’m wondering the same thing.

I take my time, strolling out of my office with a glass in hand. Let the fucker stew. I know that Sam’s not armed and I’m not worried about him physically overtaking me. I’m not afraid of him, period. Most people would have been waiting with trepidation for this moment. I’m actually quite happy that he finally found me. Now I just have to keep from killing him in my own club.

His large frame fills the wing chair at his table. I don’t know who sat him in the V.I.P. section. If I had my way, the fifty-eight-year-old would be in the back corner, near the can. I watch as Mercy strolls by, her wide blue eyes flashing at the sight of him, but Nate quickly moves in to redirect her. I guess I can understand the appeal. The guy reeks of money and, with his natural gray streaks running through his dark hair, most women would consider him distinguished. Attractive, even.

All I see is a hungry snake among mice.

Intent on watching Cherry’s performance, he doesn’t notice my arrival. Or he wants me to think that he doesn’t.

“You were asking for me?”

Steely eyes turn to settle on me. When he smiles, the mirth doesn’t touch them. “Hello, Cain.” I can hear the New York accent roll off his tongue with those two words. He sticks his hand out and I take it. I take it and I fight the urge to break the bones within it.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Sam’s smirk puts me further on guard. He looks like the type who would investigate his enemies, too. I wonder how much he’s managed to dig up on me. “Please, join me.” He gestures at the empty chair and I can’t help but chuckle. He’s coming into my club, and inviting me to sit with him. Corking my annoyance, I accept the offer with a sneer. We sit in silence as Cherry finishes her act and Terry announces Levi as the next performer. Despite the situation, a blip of disappointment stirs in me, remembering that this used to be Charlie’s slot.

It’s the first time that I’m actually glad she’s not here.

“I believe my daughter worked for you up until a few weeks ago,” he starts, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Her name is Charlie.”

“Your daughter, Charlie.”

“Yes. Blond hair? Pretty girl.” He takes another sip. “I believe you got to know her well.”

I wonder if it bothers Sam that I was fucking his stepdaughter. If the monster in him is capable of being bothered.

I wonder if he ever touched her.

I beat that thought out of my head because I know nothing good will come of pondering it right here, right now, with his throat within reach.

I let my eyes roam over the club—spying Nate watching us without attempting to hide it. He’s a good distance back, but he could climb over the railing in a split second if the need arose. “Yes, I did.” I’m the master of holding my cards close to my chest. Now, though, I struggle. I’d love to verbally assault Sam with all that I know. But it wouldn’t be advantageous, and so I keep my answers to a minimum.

“She’s gone missing. I haven’t been able to find her in weeks.” His brow knits tightly together. “I’m very worried about her.”

I’m sure you are. I sip my drink, forcing it back between bared teeth. “She left me a few weeks ago. I have no idea where she went.” I can feel his careful gaze dissecting me. I let him do it. He’ll find nothing but the truth.

She did leave me. It was a few weeks ago. And I have no fucking clue where she went.

“Did she say why?”

I lock eyes with him now. “No, she didn’t. She didn’t tell me a damn thing.”

Sam shifts his attention back to the floor. “You know, you were dating her and then she just up and vanished. If I were to report her missing, you’d become a suspect very quickly. Things could become . . . difficult for you.”

“Please do.” I can’t keep that smirk off my face. “I have nothing to hide.” He’s not going to report her missing and we both know it.

“No?” He tips his head back to finish his drink, an amused smile on his face. “It looks to me like Cain Ford might have a lot to hide. Especially from a girl like Charlie.”

He’s letting me know that he had me investigated. He’s trying to throw me off. Rattle me. Good fucking luck. “Charlie knows everything there is to know about me.” Almost everything.

“Oh?” He’s trying to sound light, but I caught the slight crack in his voice. “What about all of these people here? What would they think of their righteous boss?”

“I honestly don’t care,” I throw out without hesitation, though it’s a lie. If my dirty laundry needs to get aired, I’m the one who’s going to hang it out. I can tell by his tactics that Sam is used to threatening people and getting his way. It may have worked on his teenage stepdaughter, but it’s going to take a lot more than that to get his way with me.

His body shifts until he’s leaning over the table. “You don’t care that they know you’re a killer?”

“Anyone climbing into that ring knew the risks,” I shoot back, though my blood has turned cold. Is he talking about Jones? Or . . .

“Who said I was talking about inside the ring?”

Fuck.

How did he find out?

I hide behind my glass, never taking my eyes off him as he weighs my reaction. When I give him nothing, he continues. “Seems odd, doesn’t it? That the two men suspected of murdering your family turn up dead six months later? Beaten to death?” Cold eyes glance down at my hands. “Rumor has it you were quite the fighter. Unparalleled in the underground world.”

I struggle to school the panic in my eyes from showing. How the hell does he know about my family’s killers? What kind of connections does he have? Who else knows? Surely he’s not being fed this by the cops. Never once