Chapter 1

A man, six-foot-four, strong and brooding, closed his car door and looked around at the semi-trailers that filled the yard.

He buttoned his suit jacket, which disguised his muscled frame, honed by years of training and experience.

After taking a deep breath, his face puckered in dismay. The warm, dry notes of woods and resins that his cologne had infused into the cabin of his BMW was now overpowered by the scent of steaming manure, unsurprising considering the lowing that could be heard in the distance.

Metal clanged, echoing through the yard as he approached the abattoir at a comfortable gait. The high walls of the building were streaked with rust and grime made all the more dingy by the heavy gray clouds that had hung in the sky for days.

His mind strayed to the chase that was coming. The rush hadn't hit him yet, but it would. No one who worked for Cramer was weak. These guys were known for their relentless determination. It was a challenge he needed after the sleepless night he'd had.

When he reached the glass door, his confident reflection stared back at him. He smoothed a hand over his hair, smiled at himself, then entered.

The lobby was dreary with patches of threadbare carpet marking the path to the reception desk, and the low hum of machinery vibrated the walls.

The receptionist's eyes lifted to him and widened as he strolled forward. Her lips parted slightly before she smiled, plumping out her now-red cheeks.

She was in her mid-twenties with a round face, made more prominent by the tight ponytail that hadn't had much thought put into it. Not until he walked in. Now, she was ruthlessly tucking stray strands behind her ears before pulling them back out again to frame her face.

"Good morning," she said a little breathlessly.

"Hi there." He leaned on the desk, tempting her closer. She obliged, although she probably didn't realize she was doing it. "I was wondering if it would be possible to get a tour."

"Oh, uh. A tour? They, um." She swallowed, then cleared her throat, slouching, then straightening. "Yes. I mean, maybe. They do tours on Thursdays."

"I'm afraid that won't work for me."

"You can book in a tour for a different day next week if you're a journalist or something. Are you?"

"No. I'm afraid not. And I'm not in town long. I'm flying to London on Wednesday, so Thursday is definitely out of the question. My name's Samson, by the way."

He held out his hand, and she quickly took it.

"I'm Paula."

He squeezed her fingers lightly, not letting go.

"Paula…. Is that your grandmother's ring?" he said, regarding the diamond solitaire on her finger.

"How'd you know?"

"It's an engagement ring. Old-fashioned."

"What makes you think I'm not engaged?" She was trying to flirt, but her tone was all wrong.

"You're wearing it on your right hand, middle finger."

"Oh…yeah."

He twisted her hand, admiring. "Your hands are more petite than hers." He rubbed his thumb across her fingers before dropping them.

She slowly retracted her arm and laid her hand carefully in her lap as though to preserve his touch.

It was almost too easy sometimes. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it. Having power over people was intoxicating. But while he'd learned a long time ago how to shut out his conscience, leading on a young woman he had no interest in had its disadvantages. He preferred not to leave a trail of destruction in his wake besides those who deserved it, so he did his best to leave her with something to dream about instead of causing her to wallow in disappointment.

"I don't suppose you could show me around?" His inflection suggested the promise of more, but he was sure she wouldn't be able to leave her post.

"Me? I'd love to, but…I'm not allowed. I have to answer the phones and be here if anyone comes in."

"That's too bad. They shouldn't keep a woman like you chained to the desk."

"Oh, it's okay. I don't mind. It's my job."

It wouldn't be for long. Once he was through here, this place would be shut down.

"You really don't mind?" He looked around the room. "Are you related to the owner? You're doing this as a favor, right?"

She laughed. "No. It's just a job."

"Then they must pay you well."

"Receptionists don't general get paid very well."

"I hate to see such a lovely woman stuck in a drab work environment. Do me a favor. Tonight, when you go home, look for a different job. There's better stuff out there for you. If I had a position in my business, I'd hire you."

"You don't even know me, but that's nice of you to say."

"I'm a nice guy."

"Let me see about that tour. I may be able to organize someone for you, but I'll have to see if one of the supervisors is free. And he'll have to approve it."

"Whatever the outcome, I appreciate the effort."

"I'll need to tell them the purpose of your visit."

"Of course. I own a line of delicatessens here in Virginia, and I need a new source for my beef."

"Oh, wonderful. I know the bosses are always on the lookout for new opportunities. I'm sure they would be happy to show you around, but there's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"If I get another job, you won't see me here next time you come in."

"That would be unfortunate, but once the papers are signed, I won't be coming back unless there's a problem. I'd hate to think of you stuck in here every time I process an order. That would be depressing."

"In that case, if you don't mind waiting, I'll make the call."

"Thank you."

He kept his eyes on her while she was on the phone, but her straight back and shallow breathing made it clear she sensed his gaze. When she began stuttering to whoever was on the line, he turned. There was such a thing as being too distracting.

He wandered over to a small waiting area and looked at the various awards placed haphazardly on the wall like an abandoned community notice board. He leaned closer, making note of the ten-year-old dates on them. No wonder the company had to bring in other streams of business. Everything about this place said it was washed up. It was like they weren't even trying anymore.

He ran a hand down his suit jacket. As long as they didn't question what could possibly make a businessman like him interested in working with a company like this, he'd be good.

"Andy will be out in ten minutes," Paula said. "If you'd like, you can have a seat."

"Thank you, I will."

He moved to an old chair near the window. When he sat, the cracked vinyl poked him through his pants. He considered moving to the couch, but the stain on it looked fresh.

After a minute of Paula trying not to look at him, he said, "I don't suppose I could get a cup of coffee while I wait?"

"I'd be happy to." She smiled, then winced. "But it's not very good."

"That's okay. I don't mind."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She stood. "How do you take it?"

"With a drop of milk."

"Just a drop?"

"Almost black but not quite."

"Got it."

As soon as she was out of the room, he hurried behind her desk, rifling through the trays of papers. It wasn't necessary. He had the information he needed to do his job, but he never missed an opportunity when one presented itself.

He came up empty-handed, and with a password lock on the computer and not enough time to crack it, he returned to the prickly chair before Paula came back with a black and white spotted mug.

"Is that supposed to be a cow?" he said when he took the cup. It was either a bad joke or in poor taste seeing as cows were being butchered in the other room.

"It's all we have, sorry."

"No need to apologize." He took a small sip, then added, "You're right. It is terrible."

"I warned you."

He was surprised by the saucy look she gave him as she walked back to the desk. She'd warmed up to him faster than he'd expected.

"I don't mind," he said after taking another sip. "A hot drink on a miserable day is nice any way you look at it."

"Tell me about it. I can't wait to see the sun again. It's been ages."

She bit the inside of her cheek, and he watched her, waiting for her to say what he knew she was debating in her head. It was better to get it over and done with.

"So," she finally spoke, "after your tour, if you need to get the taste out of your mouth—the coffee, I mean. If you need to get the taste of the coffee out of your mouth—there's a cafe about a mile and half down the road, just outside of town. They make a good cup, and their carrot cake is to die for. If my shift didn't end in four hours, I could show you. Unless you don't mind waiting or coming back."

It wasn't the most subtle way to fish for a date, but he was used to women being forward with him. It was a useful tool when necessary, but he'd gotten what he needed from Paula.

"Thanks. Good to know." He didn't need to say more. After he was through here, she'd be too distracted by the mess he was about to make to worry about him any more until she went home and told herself that the handsome vigilante had been interested in her. She could blame their circumstances for keeping them apart. It was the kind of fantasy that made books bestsellers.

"You said you're here until—" She tried to draw him back into the conversation, but a lanky man came through the door, cutting her off. He wore a long white coat and a hard hat with tuffs of red hair poking from the sides.

"You must be Samson."

Samson stood, grateful he wouldn't need to put Paula off any longer. "I am. You're Andy?"

"Paula tells me you own a line of specialty stores?"

"I do. Yes. We import a lot of our products from overseas—Spain, Italy, Greece—but we're expanding, and we want to take advantage of what we can source locally. Our growing customer base is very interested in supporting local businesses."

"Wonderful."

"I appreciate you agreeing to the tour today. I am very particular about who I do business with. I want to make sure all of your procedures are acceptable to my standards."

"I can't blame you for that. And I'm confident they will be. We pride ourselves on our sustainable procedures and our care for the animals beyond simply the minimum that is required by regulations. We like to give them the respect and kindness they deserve."

"That's what I like to hear."

"If you'll come with me, I'll let you see for yourself. I can take you through from start to finish, although there are a couple of areas where we ask you to keep all recording devices tucked securely away, as the process is not suitable for the general public. It can be quite distressing watching the animals being put down. If you don't think you have the stomach for it, let me know. There's no shame in it." He chuckled. "I've seen some big men go down. White as a sheet."

"I'll bet you have. But you don't have to worry about me. I grew up on a farm where we had to dispatch animals from time to time. I can handle it."

"Then come with me, and we'll get you suited up."