Sin & Suffer

The moment Arthur and I stepped inside, the senator locked the door, then made his way to the mirrored bar and topped up his goblet with amber liquor. Eyeing my half drunk champagne, he stole Arthur’s empty flute, replaced it with a tumbler filled with what I assumed was whiskey or cognac, then clinked his glass to ours and smiled. “Welcome to my home once again, Kill.” His hazel eyes landed on mine. “And you must be Cleo. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I froze, my glass half raised to my lips. “Very nice to meet you, Senator. Forgive me, but I’ve heard nothing about you.”

But I’m beginning to suspect I’ve been stupidly naïve where Arthur is concerned.

Who was I kidding? Arthur was too complicated to remain fixated on revenge for so long. He would’ve grown bored. He would’ve set his targets higher.

But just how high?

Samson laughed, revealing a gold cap on his lower incisor. “That sounds about right.” Cocking his head at Arthur, he grinned. “Secretive fellow, isn’t he?”

I glanced at Arthur who sipped his drink. “If I’m so secretive, how do you know so much about Cleo, then?”

Samson toasted Arthur again, ice tinkling in his tumbler. “Got me again. Too smart for your own good.”

I guessed the senator was in his late fifties. Trim body, stocky legs, haircut reminiscent of a soldier, hair flecked with grey.

Frowning, I asked, “Pardon my slowness, but if Arthur didn’t tell you about me … then who did?”

Beaming a pearly white smile, the senator laughed. “From Wallstreet, of course. He keeps me up to date on all the latest chin-wagging.” He tilted his thumb in Arthur’s direction. “Wallstreet told me Kill had found something he’d lost long ago. That the main reason for the start of this campaign had reincarnated and that we were to work doubly hard to ensure the future is wiped clean of evil.”

Is that supposed to make sense?

Patting my hand, Samson moved toward a cluster of chocolate-leather couches in the center of the room. “Besides, I’m trustworthy. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be told shit. And yet another reason why I do what I do.”

Drifting forward, caught up in his reticulation, I completely forgot about Arthur. “What is it that you do, Senator?”

Sitting heavily and almost disappearing in the supple leather of the couch, he smiled. “I like to think of myself as a fixer.”

“A fixer?”

Arthur’s body heat tingled my arms as he moved closer. “Samson has been a contact ever since I got out of Florida State.” He gave one of his rare trusting smiles. “He’s been crucial in getting our goal realized.”

My high heels pinched as I moved forward, itching for information. “And what is the goal?”

Why do I feel as if this has all been there … in the background, only I’ve been too blinded to see it?

Samson placed his tumbler on a glass side table. “The one that’s about to be put into execution due to the recent events, that’s what.” He waved at the extra chairs. “By all means, have a seat.”

I turned to the locked door. “What about your party?”

Samson snorted. “Screw ’em. Only here for the free booze and to kiss my ass. They can do that without me in the room.”

Arthur placed his hand on my lower back and guided me forward. “Sit, Cleo.”

The atmosphere in the room thickened with mystery. These men were schemers. Meeting in their private rooms, concocting plans as if they were princes rather than a politician and biker.

What the hell is going on?

Obeying Arthur, I sat stiffly. Biting my lip as the scratchy tulle of my skirts puffed around me in a loud rustle.

Arthur glanced over, settling into his own chair. His eyes trailed to my tattooed and burned legs, and for a fraction of a second they blazed with lust, then business and plans hijacked his mind and the lust was gone.

Spreading his thighs, Arthur leaned forward and nursed his drink between his knees. “Has the bill been drafted?”

My ears perked.

I’d been thrown in the deep end and left to swim in whatever information these two conspirators divulged.

Senator Samson nodded. “It’s been drafted and delivered. I’ve enlisted the help of some local and stateside politicians. I see no reason why we won’t be able to launch our attack full force.”

“And the campaign? The advertising is all planned like we discussed?”

I kept quiet, nursing my warming bubbles.

Samson grabbed his drink, finished it, and discarded the empty glass. “The one-minute television advertisement is in place and ready to air. The radio, newspaper, and online targeting are also done. However, if you wish it to run frequently with a lot of impact to ensure people’s attention, then we need more funds.”

Arthur didn’t hesitate. “Done. Email me the figure and I’ll pay it. I told you before money is no object.”

My mouth hung open. Only a few years ago this man had been a boy swatting me for incorrect decimal placement on my math homework. Now he was in league with millionaires and men who ran our beloved country.

I’ve been left behind.

My heart panged to think I might not be enough anymore. That soon Arthur would find me a novelty rather than precious treasure. What exactly could I contribute to this strange new world?

What exactly is this strange new world?

Samson ran a finger over his mouth, deep in thought. “In that case, I believe we’ll be staring at a politically unrest nation by the end of the year.”