Page 136 of Sinfully Yours

My breath lodges in my throat.

Liam ducks at the last second, the metal whistling past his ear before it slams into a stack of crates, sending splintered wood flying.

Vanessa doesn't hesitate. She swings again, this time aiming for his ribs.

Liam moves fast. He sidesteps, grabs her wrist, and wrenches the weapon from her grip. The tire iron clatters to the ground.

For a second, she just stands there, her chest heaving, her eyes wild with fury.

Then she lunges.

She doesn't care that she's unarmed. Doesn't care that she's outmatched. She throws herself at him, nails clawing, teeth bared, a furious, unhinged snarl ripping from her throat.

Liam catches her wrists, holding her back, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and something darker.

"You lost, Vanessa." His voice is low, firm. Final.

Her eyes flash, venomous. "Not yet."

She twists, kicking at his knee. It's a cheap shot, but effective. Liam falters just enough for her to yank free.

And then she runs.

Straight for the side exit.

Oh, hell no.

She's fast, but I have adrenaline and fury on my side. My boots pound against the concrete as I sprint after her, my breath burning in my chest.

Vanessa yanks the door open, but I'm right there, grabbing the back of her coat, yanking hard.

She stumbles, whipping around, her eyes flashing with pure hatred.

"This is over," I breathe.

She snarls. "You think you've won?"

A screech of tires outside. Police sirens. The cavalry is here.

Vanessa hears it, too.

And for the first time, she looks scared.

Liam steps up beside me, breathing hard. "It's over, Vanessa."

The sirens outside are getting louder, flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the steel walls of the warehouse, the steady thud of approaching boots growing closer.

She turns to run—one last, desperate move—but she doesn't make it two steps before Liam grabs her by the wrist and wrenches her back. She struggles, but she's exhausted. Beaten. Done.

A second later, the warehouse doors burst open, and officers flood the space.

"Down on the ground!" someone shouts, the command sharp and cutting.

Vanessa stiffens, her lips curling into something like disgust, but she doesn't fight as two officers move in, grabbing her by the arms and yanking them behind her back. The unmistakable click of handcuffs echoes against the concrete.

The hired muscle—what's left of them—don't fare much better. One of them is already half-unconscious, groaning on the floor from whatever damage Dean and Ryan did to him outside. But Cliff?

Cliff talks.

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