Samantha had tears of laughter in her eyes as she looked at Thomas' horrified expression and he stared in disbelief at the big screen to which they had connected the console and started a video game.
"That cannot be! I'm the undefeated Mario Kart Champion in this club! You can not beat me! He muttered in horror and Samantha couldn't resist another fit of laughter. As funny as his boast was, the moment it collapsed was a lot more amusing. Thomas shook his head in horror.
" No, no, no! Witch! You must be a witch! Nobody wins this game that many times in a row and stop laughing at me!" he snapped and Sam clutched his aching stomach muscles, when the next laugh attack broke over them. But her laughter quickly faded when the door flew open and instead of Killian, a man stood in the door whom she had never seen before. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a silver hairline that emphasized his advanced age. The jacket he was wearing was heavily padded and Sam would have bet her recent score record that there was a stocked gun holder underneath. His eyes bored into hers while he seemed to ignore Thomas completely. Samantha himself only remembered him when he uttered a series of vicious curses.
"Bloody hell, how did you get in here?" Thomas asked, jerking off the couch and positioning himself so the man couldn't stare at Samantha.
"I let him in," Killian's voice sounded and Samantha got up as well and walked around Thomas to smile happily at her brother. But that died again. Killian's gaze was piercing, ice cold and so completely emotionless that Samantha was sure that he didn't notice her. Killian would never look at her like that.
"We'll wait in front of the door, Thomas," Killian ordered sharply and only looked at his best friend sadly, without catching Sam's gaze. For a moment Samantha didn't understand what was going on here, but when she realized that Killian intended to leave her alone with this strange old man, a chill ran down her spine. She had never told him, but since her father's assault, she had been terrified of being alone with men she didn't know.
Over the years she had learned that she was always in danger of being touched by men because of her outward appearance. But also, that most men would never cross that threshold if they could be seen doing it.
"What? Leave her alone with that cop? Thomas protested, apparently coming to the same conclusion she had. Cop? The man was a cop? Samantha didn't like cops, she'd grown up in an area where the authorities were treated more openly her father had always been knee-deep in illegal activities of some sort and although he had always been just a little errand boy, he had taught her to be careful around the police - you never knew when which officer has just been paid by whom.
"Ms Eveans, my name is Arnold Spencer and I would like to ask you a few questions. Alone,” the cop explained quickly. He must have noticed her fear, whipped out a badge that Sam ignored, and smiled that seemed too stiff to be reassuring.
“Killian!” Thomas thundered on. But her brother's gaze became sharp as he hissed a reply through clenched teeth.
"Get your ass to me, Thomas! Immediately!" Thomas turned to Sam briefly, put on a regretful look and lovingly nudged her little tip of the nose. Then he walked past Spencer to Killian, but not without giving the policeman a disdainful look. "You have three minutes with me my sister.”
He accentuated her delicate collarbones and elegant neck so that the bright pink fluffy socks on her feet would not be noticed. At least, unless you're trained to just pay attention to everything, because after Arnold Spencer stopped smiling, his gaze lingered on her silly foot covering for a moment too long before he started to explain.
"Maybe we'd like to sit down, I promise I won't bother you long." Sam frowned doubtfully at the suggestion.
"I'd rather stand and I'd rather you did the same." She didn't want to come across as rude, but when faced with the choice between feeling her own discomfort and appearing bitchy, she happily chose to be a scratch brush.
"You are very direct. That's good, because I don't intend to beat around the bush either."
"I guess there's no avoiding it in three minutes," Sam snapped harshly at the officer, reminding him of the deadline Killian had set had set for him and whose end she deeply longed for. Spencer nodded in agreement, slightly amused. Was it just her, or did the man like that she felt so uncomfortable?
"In order. So: What do you know about the Collin clan?" he asked and Samantha shrugged without hesitation, making her shoulders look even more gaunt in the baggy top.
"Nothing," she lied. Of course, she knew the Collin clan. Marsh Collin and his nephew Sebastian, one of Killian's closest rivals in the neighborhood, dominated the city's entire underground scene. As far as Sam knew, Marsh also had a daughter. Viktoria Collin, who had a suspiciously steep career as an artist about a year ago. Every East Coast studio carried her art, and the auction houses bickered over the few works—and those that didn't were doomed. Quite Daddy's little girl.
"And about your brother's connections in that direction?"