“I can always earn more.”
“Fine, I’ll let you ride along, but I swear to God, it’ll take more than a fat check to stop me from murdering you if you fuck this up.”
It’s nearly 2 o’clock when we pull into the parking lot of an old restaurant Samantha reserved for the meeting. In its center is an impressive-looking RV, which I hope is a sign from God that I did the right thing by tagging along.
Carl is pissed at me and refused to speak with me the entire drive, which was actually a blessing because I needed to clear my head.
“Remember what I said?—”
“Not a word,” I reply back.
We enter the restaurant, and the hostess takes us to the meeting room.
All at once, my world tilts on its axis when I see Samantha seated at the table in the center of the room, looking down at a black portfolio.
She takes my goddamn breath away, making me forget where I am and how I got here.
She looks up at us and tucks a lock of black hair behind her ear. A surprised expression washes over her face when she sees me, which is quickly replaced with a soft, but forced, smile.
“There’s a small buffet along the wall and plenty of drinks,” the hostess says with a gesture, “and if you need anything else, we’ll be in and out of the room.”
“Actually,” an older man approaches, “we were hoping we could meet without interruption.”
The hostess nods. “Certainly.”
She exits the room, and the man turns toward us. “You must be Carl.” He extends his hand to shake. “I’m Wayne, Samatha’s father.”
“Hello, Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Carl says as he takes his hand.
Wayne turns to me and extends his hand. “And you are?”
“My name is Joe,” I say.
A look of amusement flickers in his eye as we shake. “For the record, I’ll need your last name.”
“Hernandez.”
“I’ll be the mediator between the two parties, as I lack bias in the case. Samantha will be assisting. And Frank over there,” he nods to a muscular man in a suit off to the side, “he’s in charge of making sure things don’t get out of hand.”
Carl nods.
An uneasy feeling twists in my gut and a quick glance at Carl tells me I’m not the only one who’s worried.
We take our seats at the large rectangular table with Samantha and Priest angled so they can see the screen in back of them, giving me the perfect view of Samantha’s round stomach.
Wayne clears her throat. “Hello, everyone. We are here today because of a complaint made by: Aiden Fischer, also known as Priest. We are joined by the accused, Carl Emerson, and witness Joe Hernandez. Before we begin, does anyone have any questions?”
“Can we just speak plainly so we can get this resolved and I can be on my way?” Carl says.
“Certainly,” Samantha replies with a Cheshire grin. She grabs a remote from the table and turns on the screen to her back. “Up on the display, you’ll see the footage in question of Carl Emerson beating down Mr. Fischer, which resulted in him losing more than one tooth and needing corrective surgery on his nose.”
Priest is smirking, and I suddenly worry that this meeting isn’t going to go how I’d expected it to.
“So you’re helping him?” Carl blurts to Samantha.
Samantha’s jaw drops in offense. “I’m merely doing what I think is right. Mr. Fischer has endured incalculable damage by your hand, and he has the evidence to prove it.”
Carl snickers. “Incalculable? Just a day ago you were saying this would set me back six figures. Has that changed?”
