The Rules of Survival (Mercer #1)

RoS Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Five

Samson discovered me sitting on the floor near the kitchen, my injured leg stretched out in front of me. He approached slowly, like I might attack him should he make any sudden movements.

"You're not crying," he said warily, coming to a stop three feet away.

I glanced up at him, epression blank. "Should I be?"

He shrugged, dropping into a crouch. "He's been gone half an hour. This time he really isn't coming back, and I know you know that. I Just thought you might be a little... upset about it."

I couldn't help but snort. Upset? So many words he could have chosen, and he used upset? That didn't even begin to describe the way my chest ached, or the hollow feeling that was consuming me. I was angry and heartbroken and full of despair and something else entirely. It was a crippling emotion all its own, one that forced me to concentrate on the simple act of breathing lest I forget how and stop altogether.

Forcing a smile I didn't feel, I said, "I'm fine. Besides, there's no point dwelling on something you can't change."

Because no amount of begging or cursing or crying would bring Justice back. He was gone, and I was here. And that was how it would be from now on.

"Shit," I murmured, remembering something. I pulled his wallet, his keys, and his cell phone free. "I forgot to give him his things."

"Doesn't matter," Samson said. "He wouldn't have taken them anyway. He left with nothing but the clothes on his back and my red Mustang." He jerked his head toward the hallway. "All of his stuff is still in his room. It would look a little suspicious if someone decided to come to the house and noticed half of his clothes missing, as well as his computers and shit."

True. I supposed if his wallet and phone up and disappeared along with his car, Sal and the other might have started to think something was up. I frowned as something Samson said registered.

"Wait a second, you gave him your car?"

Samson's grin was decidedly evil as he replied. "Well, it's not really mine."

At my confused look, he shrugged and elaborated with, "I may have permanently borrowed it from some pendejo who pissed me off. Asshole thought it would be funny to spray paint the side of my house. Needless to say, I thought it would be equally funny to burn his garage full of pot to the ground. Took his precious car while I was at it. It's been in my front yard ever since. I told him to call me when he wanted it back. That was six months ago, and I haven't heard a word."

My eyes widened in shock. Good God. Samson del Gato: known gangster and criminal, arsonist, and car thief. No wonder the owner hadn't bothered calling. I wouldn't either. It fell under that whole self preservation thing I was starting to learn. No doubt Samson would have handed him his ass if the guy had tried to come and collect his property.

"Did he take any money?" I asked, though I thought I might already know the answer.

Samson shook his head. "You have his wallet, which had all of his cash in it. Everything else is in the bank. It would look a little dodgy if there were withdrawal statements dated after his death. Don't worry though," he added with another mischievous smile. "I stashed ten grand I the glove compartment of the Mustang. He'll find it when he cleans the car out to sell it."

I went back to being shocked. "You gave him ten thousand dollars?"

"Hey, I'm thirty five up, courtesy of the CBK. And I'm not exactly hurting for cash. I tried to give it to him outright and he nearly smacked me for it. At least now, he'll be too far away to turn around to come back and give me what for."