Page 119 of The Vow

“Are you calling me a liar, Mr. Shazad?” My smooth voice rippled with an eerie calm. Denial was my only option—the only weapon I had to buy some more time.

“I think I’m calling you more than that, Mr. Remington.”

The hair on my arms prickled.Goddammit, where were they?

“Then it sounds like our business here is done,” I said and tipped my head.

If I could get back to the room—to Robyn, we could bunker down?—

“I don’t think so, Mr. Remington,” Shazad said just as one of Belmont’s guards stepped in front of the door, blocking my exit.

“Is this really the route you want to go?” I cocked my head and directed the question to Belmont, insinuating that he was about to start a war with the kind of criminal who would destroy him.

“You made your bed, Remington,” he snarled. “It’s not my fault if you get fucked in it.”

“I will ruin you, old sport.” I smiled. “And I will take great pleasure in doing so.”

“No, you won’t because you won’t be leaving here alive.”

“I think the thing about ghosts, Mr. Remington, is that when you go so long without being seen, it becomes very difficult to prove you were ever real,” Amir added, his voice as slick as oil. “And with you dead, it’s near impossible to stop someone else from claiming they were the infamous Damon Remington all along.”

Cold rage burned through me that they thought they could do this. Thankfully, I had plenty of safeguards put in place over the years to prevent this exact scenario.

“You can claim all you want, but without any of my assets to back it up, no one will believe you.”

“Oh, I know.” Amir smiled. “Which is why you’re going to give them to me.”

I barked out a laugh, and my ears pricked at the sound of a helicopter in the distance. Or maybe it was just the echo of my desperate hope.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shazad, but that certainly doesn’t sound like me,” I cajoled. “I can’t imagine why I would give anyone that information, let alone a man who’s already told me he plans to kill me.”

“That’s why I’m as successful as I am. Because I can imagine, Mr. Remington,” Amir said, making a show of the way he stood. His frailty was nothing more than a facade to hide a ferocity that rivaled the outright psychopathy of his son. “And you’re going to tell me because while I am going to kill you, I may be willing to make a deal to spare your wife’s life.”

The demand was as physical as a bullet into the beat of my chest, mangling my heartbeat and infecting my blood with fear.

“If you harm her in any way,” I began, my voice dropping low. “There is no hell that will hold me from coming for you.”

He came close, his smile poking at his cheeks. “I’ll take my chances.” Extending his ornate walking cane, he tapped on one of the chairs at the round table in the center of the room. “Have a seat, Mr. Remington. There’s a lot we have to discuss.”

“I have nothing to say.” My hand flexed and released at my side as my eyes scoured for a new strategy.

There was only one guard blocking the door. If I could just get through him, I could probably make it back to the room and Robyn, and I could figure something else out from there.

Amir sighed and strode closer, his careless demeanor advertising just how much of an upper hand he believed he had.

Or did have. At the moment.

“Trust me. You’ll want to sit and talk to me, Mr. Remington,” he remarked as he stopped a few feet in front of me.

“I really don’t think I have any desire to do that.” If I could just drag this out longer—even if they beat me, tortured me, I only had to hold out long enough until?—

“Well, the longer you stay silent, the longer my son has to enjoy the company of your wife.”

Rage and adrenaline collided—combusted—and the world around me went up in smoke.

“Where is he?” I demanded, rage crackling in my throat.

“I just told you, Mr. Remington. From the moment you stepped into this room, Uzair has been in yours. Now, tell me what I want to know if you want her to live.”

---