Chapter 18

Samson knocked on the wooden door, then picked at the chipping paint on the frame. Last time he'd visited, the house hadn't been so run down.

The door opened, and his dad appeared with his usual frown.

"Samson? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I came by to see how you are. You have time for a coffee?"

"Something's wrong."

"It's not. I wanted to see you."

"Then I guess you should come in."

Samson followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled two mugs out of the cupboard.

"All I've got is filter," Arthur said. "I hope that's okay."

"That's fine."

"Drop of milk?"

"Yup."

Samson took the cup offered to him and sat down at a small kitchen table. A Bible was laid open with a notepad beside it, which his dad quickly closed to hide whatever he'd been scribbling there.

"How've you been?" Samson said after a sip.

"Fine. And you?"

"Good."

"That's good. How's work?"

"Slow. There's a man connected with the Turkish embassy who's playing hard to get."

"The Turkish embassy?" Arthur straightened.

"Don't get too excited."

"Who said I was."

"I know what you're thinking."

"You're telling me there's no connection?"

"That was ten years ago."

"So there could be?"

"Dad, stop. I didn't come here to get your hopes up about me finally fulfilling my destiny."

"Then what's at the Turkish Embassy?"

"I've already told you as much as I can. I just wanted you to know that I'm still working to put the bad guys behind bars."

Arthur pushed his cup aside. "Why are you really here?"

"You're not happy to hear about the people I'm helping?"

"You know I'm always proud of the work you do. I only wish your life would reflect the gift that's on you. Besides which, you have a big smile on your face. An unusual occurrence."

"I smile plenty."

"Not in my presence, you don't."

"You don't always make it easy to smile."

"And whose fault is that?"

Samson leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands on his thighs. "This isn't how I wanted this to go."

"How did you expect it to go? This is the first time you've visited me in years. I've always had to be the one to find you."

"And you assume it's because of something bad."

"If it isn't, I'm all ears."

"I met someone."

Arther's lips puckered. "Someone as in a girlfriend?"

"I wouldn't call her that yet. She's a friend."

"Does she know about the various other women you?—"

"Dad, don't. She's not like them. And I'm not— That's not what I want."

"For now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"This girl, whoever she is, is obviously different enough for you to take notice, but what happens when the effects wear off?"

"What effects?"

"When you get bored. What are you going to do?"

"It's not like that."

"You sure?"

Samson shook his head and stood. "I don't know why I bother."

"What's her name?"

"Delilah."

"And you'll remember that?"

"I shouldn't have come."

"What is it you expect from me?"

"That you would be happy for me for once in your life."

"What is there to be happy about? That you've met another woman to fill the void?"

"It's not like that," he said again.

"Isn't it?"

"No. I told you. This woman is different. She brings out the best in me."

Arthur shook his head.

Samson sighed. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"What I want is for Jesus to bring out the best in you. Not some woman."

"She's not some woman, Dad." Samson slammed his chair in against the table. "And if you'd listened for half a second instead of criticizing me from the start, you would have heard how important she is. I can see how empty my life has been."

"No woman will ever fill that hole."

"You want me to be miserable for the rest of my life?"

"You're miserable because of the lifestyle that you've chosen, but it's not too late."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you. I want things to be different. Better."

"Because of a woman. Why not because of God? No woman will make your life happy."

"She already does."

"Why do you insist on remaining blind to the truth?"

"Because it's your truth, Dad. It's not mine. I'm sorry I came."

"So am I."

Samson headed for the door when his phone rang. "What?" he answered abruptly.

"Samson?"

"Yes. Who's this?" He continued to the door.

"It's Catherine." Her voice shook.

"Catherine?" He stopped and pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the number. "What number is this? Is Riley okay?"

He heard Catherine's swallow. "This is the land line." He heard a muffled voice in the background.

A chill passed down Samson's spine. "Catherine. Tell me Riley's okay."

"They have her."

"Who? What are you saying?" All he could hear was her breath. Then, she squeaked and said, "The man who's here. He says his name is Marc. He said you need to meet him at Luca's restaurant if you want your daughter to live."

She started crying, and the phone dropped. Then, a voice said, "Did you get that, Samson? We've got Riley."

"If you do anything?—"

"There's no need for threats. It's not her we want. It's you. If you come to the restaurant and give yourself up peacefully, we'll let Riley go."

"Please, Samson. Do what they say," Catherine said, her voice distant.

"When?" Samson said.

"In one hour."

"I'll be there. Don't you dare hurt her."

Arthur had joined Samson at the door. "What's going on?"

"Riley's been taken." Samson charged out the door to his car.

"What do you mean, taken?"

"Kidnapped."

"By who?"

Samson stared at his reflection in the car window before he opened it. He'd spent so much of his life living for himself, and it was all for nothing. "They'll kill her if I don't go." He looked up at Arthur. "Pray for her. And me."

"I will." Arthur nodded. "You can too, you know."

Samson nodded lightly as he opened his car door, but praying was the furthest thing from his mind. "I've gotta go."

"I won't stop praying until I hear from you."

"Thanks, Dad."

Delilah hurried down to the restaurant, bringing up Samson's number for the millionth time. Her life wasn't worth more than Samson's daughter, but before Luca went into surgery, he'd made her promise not to tell him anything, and also to get to the restaurant and make sure they opened as usual. He didn't want anyone to catch wind that something was wrong. But she knew it was wrong. It was all wrong. When had she become this person?

Her world was crumbling around her once again, and she was powerless to act. It was exactly like before. There had to be a right thing to do. It should be simple, but her head and her heart conflicted so badly it made it impossible to do anything beyond the basics.

She'd spent the last hour begging God to be real and to do something. She wanted that sense she'd had as a child to return, but only her desperation grew.

Her thumb was poised over Samson's number as she moved into the dining room. She willed herself to press it. It was a simple act that carried the weight of so many lives in it.

Finally, her finger dropped onto the screen and dialed. She pressed it to her ear and looked up when she heard a phone ringing in the room.

Samson was standing there, pale even in the dim light.

"Samson?" She hung up the call. "I?—"

"You have to leave. Now. Go quickly. It doesn't matter where. Just go."

"No, you don't understand." She rushed over to him.

"Please, Delilah. You have to trust me."

"But can you trust her?" A voice came from behind.

Delilah swung around. It was a man she'd never seen before.

"Who are you?"

"She has nothing to do with this," Samson said. "She doesn't know anything." He pulled her close and whispered in her ear, "Run, and don't look back."

"Actually, I'd like her to stay," the other man said before he looked behind him and nodded.

Marc came into the room, dragging a teenage girl with him. She was gagged, and her hair was a mess. Tears streaked her face.

"Riley," Samson said breathlessly as he took an aggressive step forward, but Marc lifted a gun to her head.

Delilah pressed a hand to her chest as though she could keep her heart from pounding. "It's too late," she said to herself.

"My name's Burak Demir, by the way." He held out a hand to take Delilah's, but she didn't move. "Very well," he said as he dropped his arm back to his side. "I had hoped we could be friends since you've done me such a great service."

"I've come like you asked," Samson said. "Let the girls go."

Marc snickered. "Delilah's not here under duress. She's the reason we found your daughter."

"What?" Samson's questioning eyes locked onto hers.

"It's not what you think," Delilah said.

"It's exactly what he thinks," Demir said, taking a step closer. "Look at the look on his face. I have to get a photo of this." He lifted his phone. "For posterity's sake. That's the look of a betrayed man. When I heard that Luca's cousin had caught your eye, Samson, I couldn't resist trying to get to you through her. She helped us with the knife thing too. But you proved too clever for that."

"She helped you? Or someone overheard?" He turned to Delilah.

"I'm so sorry," she mouthed. She couldn't make any sound come out and had to drop her eyes to the floor under his devastating gaze.

"You told them about the knives and Riley?" Samson's voice was empty.

"I had no?—"

"Save it." He looked at the floor for a moment, but when his eyes rose to Demir, his demeanor had changed. His face was now all shadows and coldness. "I came like you asked. Let Riley go."

"And Delilah?" Demir said.

Samson shook his head. "I don't care."

"Good." He took a pair of cuffs from Marc and handed them to Delilah. "Would you restrain Samson for me?"

She looked at the cuffs but didn't take them. "No. You do your own dirty work. I won't have anything else to do with this."

He sucked on his teeth, then looked at Marc and nodded. "Kill the girl."

"Wait," Delilah said in a breathless panic, swiping the cuffs from his hands. "Don't hurt her."

"Behind his back, please. We don't need to give him any opportunities."

She walked up to Samson, her body tight. "I didn't mean for this to happen," she whispered when she reached him.

He put his hands behind his back. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

Her heart tore apart at the sound of defeat in his voice. Once the cuffs were secure, she stepped back.

"This was never supposed to happen." She said it more to herself than to anyone else, but Samson turned his attention on her.

"What did you think would happen when you told a murderer about my daughter?"

"I had no choice."

"There's always a choice." He shook his head, then looked at Demir. "Let's get this over with."

"Already? I was enjoying all the drama, but I do have other important work to attend to." He nodded to a couple of large men who had entered behind Marc. They took hold of Samson and led him toward the back of the restaurant.

He fought against them until one punched him in the stomach, and he doubled over. When he got his breath back, he said, "I want to see Riley walk out that door unharmed."

Demir hissed in a breath. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

"What do you mean?"

"You've caused me so much trouble, and I'm afraid your betrayal, although entertaining, is not enough for me. Your pain is just beginning."

"No," Samson breathed. "No," he said again, stronger.

"It's nothing personal. I won't make you watch. But she's a loose end we thought we'd tied up years ago."

"I knew you were a part of it back then."

"Good for you. I remember the wake you left. You killed a lot of men. Men who were my friends."

"That's why you want payback?"

"Oh, I'm not upset about that. The holes you left in the ranks meant I moved up quickly. And now, I not only have the prize that we were so eager to secure back then, but I'll also get to finish the work we started. With so much success, I'm sure to get a hefty bonus. As well as the satisfaction of a job well done."

He took the gun from Marc. "Take him out of here, will you?"

They dragged Samson from the room, raging.

Delilah watched in horror as Samson was helpless to save his daughter. What had she done? "You can't do this!" she screamed as Demir lifted the gun.

"Watch me."

Samson bucked, throwing one of the men against the wall. Then, he swung his body around, and his head connected with the other man's jaw.

His mind was clear except for one thought. He had to save Riley no matter what.

He charged toward the door, but an arm wrapped around his throat, and he felt a sting in his neck. His head spun as he staggered backward. Then the sound of a gunshot vibrated through the room.

"Riley…," he slurred as his mind faded to black.