Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Robyn
W e were back in the thick of the crowd, gliding through the glitter and greed and feigned generosity. The music pulsed with a subliminal beat, engineered to draw the guests to its energy. There were so many servers. More than I’d noticed before, heaping glass after glass of alcohol to loosen purse strings. And the men in green. Everywhere I turned, there was another top hat and camera flash. Another photo on the screen. Another victim to Belmont’s concealed criminality.
And then I saw him. Belmont. And a different anger came over me.
The hate I harbored for him for my parents’ deaths was a constant throb in my chest. Steady. Pulsing. Insistent. But this new anger was far different. It was pointed and sharp. It burned with a lethal, electric ire that demanded reckless retribution. And there was only one reason for it: because he’d harmed my husband .
Because he’d punished Damon for the things he’d done for me.
I might loathe Damon. I might want to torture and punish him at most instances for the hell he’d put me through. And I definitely still might—would, definitely still would— turn him into the FBI for the crimes he’d committed. But that didn’t mean anyone else could hurt him. He was my husband. Mine to hurt. Mine to harm. Mine to hand over.
Mine to hold onto.
My heart fluttered, and I gave my head a small shake. I couldn’t get ahead of myself. There was a difference between wanting to know the truth, being willing to believe it, and allowing it to make a difference.
In the tangle of my thoughts, I must’ve stiffened or slowed or something because Damon’s hold on my hand tightened.
“Remember what I said, Robber. Oranges, ” he murmured, but the look in his eyes, it was the same as when he’d put the ice on his stomach—when something caused him exquisite pain.
All these years I have never loved anyone but you.
Damon’s words had hijacked my mind. Like pirates pilfering the precious cargo of my thoughts and aches and wants. And right now, I had to ignore them and focus on Belmont. You’d think it would be easy to focus on revenge against the man who’d murdered my parents. But no matter how great, how strong, how long-standing the hate…it toppled like a giant against the tiniest stone thrown in the defense of love.
Why did Damon think now was a good time to say this? Why, when we were back in the lion’s den?
And why was it starting to feel like it was because he thought he might not get another chance?
My heart stumbled over its beats, catching itself just as we reached Belmont and his little posse .
“Bernie, old sport.” Damon’s grin widened at the appearance of Belmont’s frown. “Thanks for the invitation.”
“Mr. Remington. So good to see you again. And looking much better than the last time we spoke.” Only once he struck his own barb did Belmont’s smile slither like a leech over his face, his gaze turning to me as he extended his hand, expectant of mine. “Mrs. Remington.”
“Mr. Belmont.” I smiled even though I would’ve rather dipped my entire arm in acid than have him touch any part of me.
Belmont hardly made it through the bastardized gesture before his eyes were back on Damon, and mine scrutinized him a little stronger.
Over these many years, I’d collected bits and pieces about the personal life of the well-shielded billionaire. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to know he wasn’t interested—or turned on—by anything that wasn’t some blend of power, humiliation, and dominance. Something Damon also must’ve realized based on how he treated him, hooking him with a kind of power play that Belmont’s basest nature needed to satisfy. Even if Belmont had other options or other associates he could tap to coordinate this deal with Shazad, he wanted Damon because Damon made him believe he’d be weak to choose anyone else.
Belmont extended his arm, motioning us to follow him to a standing table positioned at the side of the stage. A security guard unhooked the velvet barrier from the stanchion and let us pass.
“I take it you’ve come to accept my terms.” The man sounded inordinately pleased with himself for winning this battle when he had no idea it would cost him the war.
“I know a good deal when I see one.” Damon reached inside his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Belmont .
“I wondered if our last conversation would deter you.” Belmont’s smirk made my anger bubble.
“I spent months in a Japanese prison, Bernie. I’m not deterred by a little citrus.” At every turn, Damon poked another hole in his man’s ego, forcing him to stay locked in this game— in this deal— to prove he was more powerful.
Beady eyes narrowed and then dropped to the envelope, lifting the flap and pulling out the check as though he didn’t trust Damon to not have the audacity to come this far only to cheat him.
“A very generous donation,” he grunted, and I caught the endless string of zeros before he folded it back in the envelope. Another cost to Damon that I couldn’t imagine. Yes, it was money he’d procured through various illegal means, but it was still money he was giving away for me.
Belmont slid the envelope into his jacket, and I held my breath, waiting for what came next. A meeting with Shazad? A review of the partnership?
“And the other part?”
I blinked, startled by the question. I almost thought I hadn’t heard him correctly, but a ripple of tension feathered through Damon, too. My gaze slid to him, eyes narrowing on the hard knot of his jaw. He wasn’t surprised by the request. At all. He knew there was something else… yet he’d only told me about the money.
This was what he was holding back. What he’d managed to hide from me all night.
Unease crawled over my skin like an army of ants. Individually, my worries amounted to nothing, but together, they hefted a weight on my chest that was many times larger than what a single question should produce.
What hadn’t he told me? And why ?
“Of course, I do. I’m a man of my word,” Damon replied, that last feeling like it was added for me.
“Everything I’ve broken was to protect you.”
My stomach caved in on itself. What was Damon going to do? What did Belmont want him to do? Considering what he’d done to my husband the last time, I was certain the additional request was something punitive. The money meant nothing to Damon, and Belmont clearly wanted something from him that would hurt.
“Well then, Mr. Remington. Impress me with your resourcefulness.” He set his meaty palm on the table and drummed his fingers.
My knuckles were white on Damon’s sleeve, and though I was sure he felt the deathlike grip on his arm, he didn’t let on.
“I have to confess. It’s my beautiful wife’s resourcefulness that I have to credit.” Damon flashed a wide smile and then slid his arm around my waist.
What was he talking about? I hadn’t done anything.
I swayed, grateful for his hold, though there was something different about it. He didn’t hold me to keep me close but to prevent me from pulling away, the subtle distinction only discernible because my brain was in overdrive.
Belmont arched a brow, his frown deepening in disbelief. “This isn’t a joke, Mr. Remington. Without?—”
“Darling, tell Bernie here how we get our information.” Damon ignored and interrupted the man and then blanketed me with a charming smile that almost choked me.
“W-what?” I stammered, bereft of any idea what I was supposed to say.
“She’s modest about her accomplishments.” Damon winked at me and then looked at Belmont again. “The veritable wizard behind the curtain.”
“Mr. Remington…” Belmont’s eyes went to his guards, who st arted to move closer, clearly believing Damon was setting him up.
“Calm down, old sport,” Damon chided. “I just like to give credit where credit is due, and over the years, my clever wife has built a network of ordinary spies. Invisible women who moved through this city gathering information for her at whim. Women who previously escaped the trade or other unfortunate situations. Women who became honey traps for powerful men.”
My mouth slipped open, unable to believe the knife I felt going through my back. Or was it already there? Had it always been there, and I’d been too blind to see it? To blind to think he’d use my secrets to hurt me again?
I clutched the side of Damon’s jacket, pulling on it, wanting him to stop—needing him to stop—but I couldn’t speak—couldn’t process what was happening or about to happen except that Damon had prepared for this.
“Some of them Mr. Shazad might even recognize as having escaped from the incompetence of the Triad,” Damon continued with a smirk, omitting that the Triad’s incompetence was a result of his intelligence. “And this network, these women, are my gift to you and him to do with whatever you please. I think you’ll find their much broader skill set more of a boon than the slaves Shazad was hoping to have before.”
My eyes lowered to my chest, searching for the tip of the knife punctured through my chest, the blade spinning with every sickening word.
Damon had given up my girls. My tribe . The women I’d saved and cared for and strengthened and promised to protect. The women I’d confessed to him as being like family to me. The women who’d saved me when he’d abandoned me the first time .
And in one fell swoop, he’d used my weakness as his weapon. Again.
“No.” My voice cracked, my body finally snapping out of the shock. “No,” I repeated, glaring at him. “You can’t give them to him. I won’t let you?—”
“I already did,” Damon said flatly, his voice and expression suddenly savage and void of all emotion, in his blank stare like vinegar on the wound.
With his free hand, he pulled out my cell phone—my original phone—from his pocket, set it on the table, and opened the screen.
My eyes couldn’t go any wider…and my heart couldn’t hurt any more.
It was my girls. The encrypted folder I kept with all of their information. Damon scrolled through the images, tapping briefly on a few to show there were more than pictures. Each one contained personal information, addresses, contact information. And he was trading it to Belmont. The man who would do the absolute worst with the knowledge.
Until this moment, I thought I would’ve done anything to bring Belmont to justice. But Damon had just found the one single thing I never would’ve sacrificed for my own revenge: hundreds of innocent lives for the chance to take down a guilty one.
“No. Stop!” I found my voice and tried to reach for my phone, but Damon was quicker, grabbing it out of my reach and he yanked me back painfully to his side.
“It’s too late,” Damon snarled and tapped a few times on the screen before shoving my cell into his jacket.
Belmont’s pleased smile was like a gavel on Damon’s verdict. Too late.
“Check your messages,” Damon instructed the other man.
No. My breath locked in my throat as Belmont reached for his cell to confirm. There was a brief moment when Belmont looked confused that I had hope that this wasn’t real. That it wasn’t what it seemed.
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“That’s the first quarter of the list. You’ll get the rest when I’m part of this partnership,” Damon explained. Meanwhile, the only thing I heard was that I was wrong to hope, but there was still a chance to save the rest.
I’d kill Damon myself before I let him put anyone else in danger as a means to his end.
“Like hell you will,” I swore and swung my arm at him, but I was no match for his strength that harnessed me to him, my back to his chest.
“Enough.” Damon’s harsh order was punctuated by the soft click of a knife sliding open, nor the press of the flat of the blade against my side.
What? Was he afraid I’d impale myself on it if he used the tip?
I twisted and turned, trying to escape, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Belmont watching me with the most interest he’d ever shown in my direction…and the closest thing to a genuine smile on his face. The fucker was enjoying this. Enjoying the fact that Damon betrayed me for a fucking business deal. That he’d handed over something I cared about. That he’d humiliated and betrayed me.
“Stop struggling, sweetheart. I’d hate to make any more of a scene.” Damon angled his head and cooed softly in my ear. A show. It was all a show.
“Fuck you.”
Damon’s chuckle rolled along my back, and then, like I was a petulant child he’d deal with later, he turned back to Belmont. “Bernie, old sport, I hope our business arrangement can move forward now without any further, unnecessary delays. I dislike…” He paused, scowled, and then finished. “Distractions.”
“Well, I do appreciate this show of dedication.” Belmont’s eyes leached down and then back up, savoring the sight of the ruthlessness of his new business partner. “And I’m sure the Shazads will, too.”
“Wonderful.” Damon smiled.
Belmont wiped the twisted enjoyment from his face, clearly recalling he had an appearance to maintain. “We’re meeting next week. You’ll receive the location tomorrow. I look forward to working with you, Remington.”
He made a point to look at me and then back to Damon, a silent “ you better keep your bitch restrained” passing from his distasteful stare.
Damon didn’t say anything as Belmont walked around us, through the guarded stanchions, and back to the sea of people brimming with support.
“We’re leaving, and we’re leaving quietly,” he ordered under his breath, clearly not trusting me to obey because his knife stayed poised at my back, obscured by the train of my dress as well as his body.
“I hate you,” I spat over my shoulder, letting him guide me through the crowd while my mind toiled.
“Oranges, Robber.”
Fuck oranges. This had nothing to do with his damn oranges, and the only thing that wasn’t as it seemed was him.
I saw the information he’d shown Belmont. It was real, and he’d sent it to Belmont. There was no way Belmont wouldn’t confirm that information. No way he’d taken Damon on his word that these women were ripe for the taking. Even if Damon’s plan was only to give up part of my contact list, he was still sacrificing people I cared about.
He still acted as though any means justified the end. As though all could be forgiven once Belmont and Shazad were gone forever.
I’d never forgive him for this.
“How could you?” I choked out, the strength of my own idiocy like a hand around my throat, and my eyes started to blur with furious, bitter tears.
Anything to protect me. What a fucking lie.
I had to get out of here. I had to warn them. Maybe if I contacted my brothers. Got them the information. They could get them all to safety before Belmont or Shazad or something happened. God, I was such a fool.
“Not here, Robber,” he said, his voice sharp and low.
No . I wasn’t going to play his game or abide by his rules anymore. I did everything he said—everything he asked. I gave him a sliver of my broken trust to help me bring down Belmont, and he’d taken that sliver, sharpened it into a shiv, and then drove it right back through my heart.
I didn’t want to hear any more explanations of how betraying me was necessary to protect me.
A bright-green top hat caught my eye, and without thinking, I grabbed the man’s arm, catching him by surprise.
“Miss, would you like to make a donation to the foundation?” he inquired warmly, extending his hand with the box. “I will also take your photo to share with the event.” He indicated to the screens on the stage.
“Robyn,” Damon growled behind me.
I gave the green man a smile so big, I swore I did permanent damage to my cheeks. “I would absolutely love to donate to such a worthwhile cause. Don’t you agree, darling? ” Acid dripped from my voice as I angled my body, turning my face toward Damon and slowly angling away from his knife.
Not even ten minutes ago, I would’ve sworn Damon would never harm me physically. That was before he’d sold my friends— innocent, strong women—and my life’s work to the man I hated second-most.
So, I used the green man as a buffer.
“Yes, we’d love to make a donation.” I clapped my hands together and batted my eyes at the top-hatted attendant.
Damon didn’t want a scene; he’d promised Belmont to not make a scene. At the most basic level, I had to assume that included not stabbing his disobedient wife in front of a witness with a camera.
“If you’d like to put your donation in the box, I’ll take your photo…” the man prompted.
Shit.
I hadn’t gotten much past this part in my plan. I’d needed something to allow me to pull away from Damon and force him to put away his blade, but now what? I needed to get away from him.
Maybe I could ask him to take me to the coat closet. Say I left it in my purse. But Damon would still follow us. Or I could pretend to faint. No . Damon would probably figure out some way to persuade everyone he was a doctor.
“Actually, darling, we really have to go.”
I clasped my hands tighter in front of my chest, and then I felt it. The answer was digging into my fingers that were unused to the metal shackle around them.
“Oh, this will only take a minute.” I extended a cold smile to Damon.
Heartbeats spilled into my veins, messy and uncontrolled, as I grabbed my wedding band and worked it off my finger, watching understanding, then disbelief, and then fury stain his perfect face. If there was any hurt, I refused to see it. Refused to acknowledge it.
“Robyn…” Damon warned, and there it was again, that low growl that tumbled like thunder through the space .
I turned with a burst of fury and shoved my wedding ring into the donation box. Fuck you, Damon.
Mr. Green Hat gaped, his eyes moving wildly between Damon and me. I doubted anyone else had put jewelry into the box, let alone their wedding ring with their husband standing right there.
“Oh, did you want to get a photo?” I asked sweetly.
“I—I don’t know—I’m not sure—” The man couldn’t even stammer through a complete sentence.
“It’s all right. I don’t like photos, but you could take one of my husband. He could use a new one.” I didn’t bother to wait for him to take the bait. I grabbed his camera and angled it at Damon’s face.
“Robyn—” Damon swore and lifted his hand but not fast enough to beat the fire of the flash.
“Oh, that is a perfect shot.” I shoved the camera back to the poor man who looked like a deer trapped between the headlights of two hunters; prey either way. “The donation is from Damon Remington. Be sure to put that on there. Thank you!”
I darted around the man in the suit and rushed for the door, knowing Damon couldn’t follow me. Not unless he wanted his name and face broadcast to a group of thousands.
The exit door caught on the billowing cape of my dress, stopping my heart for a moment thinking that he’d caught me. Furiously, I ripped the tender fabric from its binds and left it to stain the ground.
As much as I wanted to head for the front, there were no cars out there. Not any taxis or Ubers—they were directed to the lower-level entrance in the garage where Pat had dropped us off.
My lungs were burning by the time I pushed through the door to the garage, crashing right into the familiar brawn of the towering Irishman .
No. A sob tangled in my chest.
“Let me go,” I demanded and tried to pull away.
“Can’t do that.”
“Please,” I begged. I wasn’t above begging now. Anything to get away from Damon. “You don’t know what happened—what he did.”
“No, Robbie,” Pat insisted with a harsh brogue. “ You don’t know what he’s done. All these years?—”
“Pat.”
All my fight drained in an instant, hearing the steady tenor of his voice. Caught. The briefest glimmer of apology flitted through the bodyguard’s eyes. More like a sorry, not sorry, if you asked me.
My body thrummed like a hive that had been shaken. My blood buzzed like a swarm of bees, ready to fight to defend their queen. And my protected kingdom.
I curled and uncurled my fist, feeling my anger rush to the tip of my tongue. I hated him for this, and I’d been a fool to think, even for the most minuscule fraction of a second, that Damon Remington was anything other than what he’d always shown himself to be: a callous, egotistical criminal.
“Please, trust me, Robber.”
I spun so fast, my hand flying from my side with such force, it wasn’t until the reverberation through the garage of my palm cracking across his cheek that I realized my arm had even moved.
The second seemed to stretch with the slow and steady exhale that pushed through his lips, drawing out time until even my heavy-handed heartbeats started to lag.
How could he ask me to trust him? How could he even think there was a possibility?
The words I’d felt chambered in my chest seemed unnecessary now. I will never trust you. I will never believe you. I’d said everything I’d needed without opening my mouth.
Taking a cautious step forward, Pat rumbled, “Damon…”
Damon held his hand up, giving his man soundless instruction through his gaze, and then turning that gaze on me.
“Hit me again.”
I blanched. “What?”
He moved like lightning, lashing my wrist in his hold and dragging my hand back to his reddened cheek. I was too stunned to move or protest as he placed my palm to his skin that felt even hotter because of my efforts.
“Hit me again, Robber.”
My brows cinched in the center. “Why?” Was this another trick? It had to be. “Do you get off on your pain, too? Here I thought it was just mine.”
Sparks flung, my strike hitting squarely on its mark.
“There is nothing you could do to me that is more painful than having spent the last fourteen years, nine months, thirteen days, and nineteen hours without you.”
The exactitude of his timeline made my heart stop.
“Time for you to go home,” Damon said before I could respond, nodding to Pat, who returned to the driver’s side of the car while Damon led me by my imprisoned wrist to the back seat.
Releasing me, he opened the door, but instead of getting in, I spun and stepped flush to him. He needed to know I wasn’t afraid of him—of getting close to him.
I slid my palms up his chest, wishing I didn’t feel the hammer of his heart because I swore he didn’t have one. The solid silver of his stare splintered under my touch, and his cheek twitched when my fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket.
“Then it will be all the more satisfying when this ends and I know you’ll have to live the rest of your miserable life without me,” I promised him in a breathy whisper, smiling even though it hurt.
“Ring or not, you’re still my wife, Robber.” His possessiveness poorly disguised his petulance.
“Ring or not, you’re still a monster,” I hissed and then slid into the car, all the way to the other side so I wouldn’t have to look at him, and so I wouldn’t have to feel his eyes on me.
Damon Remington might be a wanted man…but he was wanted by everyone but me.