Page 13 of The Vow

I closed the bottom drawer and turned, angling the light up the ceiling-height bookcase behind the desk. It just seemed much riskier to keep proof of illegal activities there. My breath snagged, the flashlight reflecting off a small metal circle.

The cabinet beneath the bookcase had a lock on it.

I felt around the edge of the door. It was large enough that it could contain files—a paper trail or hard drives with information proving that he’d taken my inheritance with the help of that lawyer, McCullough, who’d recommended him. I grabbed the knob and pulled. It was locked.

Shit.

Resting my phone on the ledge so I had some light, I reached in my purse for the small lock-picking kit I’d borrowed from Harm’s things. My brothers were overseas right now, so he wouldn’t be needing it.

My hands were damp, my fingers fumbling to pull out the right-sized tool?—

“What the hell are you doing?” The low growl rippled through the tomb-like room.

I froze, panic gripping my heart and flinging it against my chest like a stone to be skipped.Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I stood so quickly, I knocked my phone off the ledge. It landed on the floor with a thud, the flashlight doused into nothing more than an eclipse on the carpet.

Now, the only light in the room was what stole in throughthe cracked door, bathing the gorgeous mobster in silver streaks of light.

His head jerked to the side. “Shit.”

It took a second to realize the curse hadn’t come from me.

“What is it?” I demanded as he strode toward me, backing myself up against the shelves as he got closer. “What are you doing?”

He was going to capture me—take me to Sinclair. Tell him where he’d found me. What he’d found me doing. My hands felt along the ledge, searching for something—anything that I could use as a weapon.Nothing.My fingers curled into a fist, my thumb locking on the outside like my military brothers had taught me.

“Jesus Christ, Robyn.” His shadow stalked closer, ricocheting off the walls until he seemed larger than life when he reached for me. “Who the hell are you?”

New plan.Punch and run.

“Don’t—” The thwack of flesh hitting flesh, the crack of the blow striking the bone, reverberated through the room.

Damon stumbled to the side, landing on one knee with a groan that morphed into a curse.

I whimpered out, the pain surprisingly potent. Unlike the hot sting of slapping someone in the face, this was a throbbing coil of pain that pulsed from my knuckles all the way up my arm. But I didn’t have time for pain. I didn’t have time for anything except to get out of here.

I kicked off my shoes and hauled up my dress to give my legs more room to move. I didn’t care how low the temperature was outside. I’d rather have frozen feet than be caught spying by Sinclair.

In the end, I ended with neither.

I made it two steps before a strong hold gripped my arm and hauled me back. My hands landed on the hard planes ofhis chest, prepared to shove him away when the floor disappeared from under my feet.

“Let me go,” I hissed, clawing at him as he set me on the desk.

My bunched dress only made it easier for him to wedge between my legs, white-hot panic flooding my system as this took a turn I wasn’t prepared for.

“Let me go, or I swear I’ll?—”

His big hands boxed in my face, holding it a breath from his. “I’ll let you go, but first, you’re going to kiss me back like your life fucking depends on it.”

I felt my eyes go wide just as his mouth crushed to mine.

In that moment, I knew time had stopped. There was no racing of my heart or pumping of my blood. There was no panicked flood of thoughts or adrenaline coiled in my stomach. There was only him. The scent of his cigar. The taste of whiskey on his lips. And the heat that flowed through me like lava when I gasped and his tongue swept deep in my mouth.

Seconds later, the voice of the devil started the clock again, breaking through the fugue of desire with the cold fury of his question, “What the hell are you doing in here, Damon?”

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