Page 86 of Damon

“Brenton’s wife,” Hunter responds. “And Roger Brenton has a reputation for being jealous.” As all our eyes return to the stage, Moreno is speaking about his excitement for the restaurant and its future. Brenton, however, has a furious gaze focused on Russell blatantly chatting up his wife. I chuckle under my breath; the bastard always knows how to make a scene.

Emma stands beside me, completely still. She stares at Moreno as he speaks, her expression somewhere between fury and terror. He continues to speak, but then pauses as he becomes aware of her. His lips twist into a crooked smile, and Emma shivers under my touch. “Why are we here again?” she whispers, her voice strained.

“To cause them discomfort,” I tell her.

“The only person uncomfortable here, Damon,” she says, “is me.”

“Once we take them out, it will all be over,” I tell her, leaning into her ear.

“And are we talking about handing them over to the authorities? Or is this your own kind of justice?”

“Not the time or place for this, Spitfire,” I reply, annoyed by her questioning. “You know things are complex.”

“You say complex, I say unnecessarily risky.” She places her hands on her hips then narrows her eyes. “What do you plan to do?”

“Nothing. Stop going all lawyer on me.” Harrison laughs behind us. “I’m not the only one here not abiding by the law one hundred percent of the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s you I’m fucking,” she snaps. “And I like to know who I’m in bed with.” I grab her elbow and squeeze hard. She yelps, and guilt stabs in my chest.

“You’re in bed with the fucking devil, Emma. Don’t pretend not to know that I was not squeaky clean. I’m here to get justice.”

“For who?” she continues, picking at the open wound. My friends retreat and space opens up around us.

“For my wife,” I hiss, “who else?” She looks me dead in the eye and takes a deep breath.

“Perhaps for me too. Your guest,” she whispers, then turns and walks away. At a loss, I watch her head in the direction of the bathroom and signal to Greyson; he moves on my gesture. When I turn back, Roger Brenton is standing there smiling at me.

“Chief Constable,” he says, grabbing my hand to shake it. “Wonderful to see you here. Do tell me, how is Connie?”

Chapter thirty-one

Moreno's Restaurant, Canary Wharf

Emma

I weave through the crowds of people dressed in insanely expensive clothes with jewelry dripping from every extremity. From the corner of my eye, I see Greyson move into position near the doorway to the bathrooms. Obviously, he has been sent to keep an eye on me. Fuck that—after Damon’s honest answer moments ago, the last thing I want to do is be here. After all his talk earlier of us being partners, I’ve been brought here as a pawn to catch his dead wife’s killer. This set-up has nothing to do with what happened to me, or any other innocent caught up in this. The realization is hard to swallow.

The bathrooms sit down a corridor to the side of the restaurant. Greyson approaches me as I pass him. “If you follow me to the bathroom, I will scream,” I tell him. “Wait here and give me some privacy. I’ll be ten minutes at the most. I need to sort my makeup.” I will a tear to fall, but it doesn’t. My school drama classes were pointless. Greyson nods but doesn’t respond. “I mean it, come near me and I’ll scream,” I warn then walk away from him.

The ladies toilet door is located beyond the gents; at the end of the corridor is a fire exit. When I reach the bathroom, I duck into an empty stall then pull my wallet and phone from my bag. I switch it onto airplane mode as I’m one hundred percent sure Damon could track my phone if he wanted to, and all I want is some space for a few hours. Time to process today and the previous weeks, to consider what I want from this and what I’m willing to put up with.

He's going to be furious with me for leaving. For months, I’ve not been allowed out of the house without him or a security guard. But I know if I go back out there and pretend to be all right, everything will build, and I’ll cause an argument.

As I stood watching Moreno, the man who killed my family, talk about his future, my anger simmered beneath the surface. Then Damon told me his sole reason for being here was her, and my temper snapped. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to scream at him for being a jerk and not seeing how I was hurting too. And for us to work, I need to know I’ll be a priority, not a substitute.

The bastard tears that wouldn’t fall earlier rush forward. I drop my head into my hands and sob as I sit on the toilet seat of the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever been in. After a few minutes, I wipe my tears with toilet paper then step out of the stall. I noticed on my way here that the fire door was ajar. Steeling myself, I make my way back into the corridor then run toward the exit. As I step out into the dark night, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me to the ground.

***

Damon

“You fucking know,” I snarl as Brenton watches me with a smile on his lips. “Connie’s dead.” The businessman’s eyes never leave my face as he surveys me calmly.

“I know how it is to lose a family member at the hands of another,” Brenton says casually. “All you want to do is inflict pain on the bastard that caused their death. I lost my brother, you see. But you know that because you put a bullet in him.”

“I was doing my job. He was a criminal.”

His expression darkens for a split second, then he readjusts his features back to pleased. “What I can tell you, Chief Constable, is that once you get revenge, life is so much fucking sweeter.” He grabs a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Watching you fall apart at her graveside was the best day of my life. That’s when I knew my brother’s death had been avenged.”

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