Page 56 of The Vow

“Oranges.” I chuckled, trying to hide my heavy breathing. “Never pictured you as aGrifterskind of guy, old sport.”

I’d never been beaten with a bag of oranges before. I’d heard of the custom—or of the rumors at least—that it caused more internal damage without leaving a lot of, or any, physical marks. I guessed I’d find out how true the rumors were tomorrow.

“I want to make a point, Mr. Remington, not leave a trace.” Belmont signaled, “Again,” and a scarred buzz-cut man whipped the bag of oranges at my other side, a grunt of pain dislodging from my throat.

Fucker.

I breathed through the pain, which, while terrible, wasn’t the worst pain I’d felt. Not that it was much consolation because it still hurt like a bitch, every blow radiating fire through my organs. The only real consolation was that I was right; Belmont had no intention of killing me or seriously maiming me. No, this beating was to soothe the jollies of a man with a big ego and a tiny dick.

I was wrong about one thing, though. There were only three of Belmont’s guards in this basement office with us, not four. Pat would be relieved.

Thwack.

Okay, maybe not exactly relieved.

I wondered how many oranges were in the bag. Two?Thwack.Three?Thwack.

Fuck.I lurched forward at that last blow, feeling like some part of my intestines had just burst in my gut.

“Enough,” Belmont said curtly as though he were directly in a business meeting and not a beating.

My chest and stomach released their bottled tension, and I lifted my eyes to the clock hanging above the door.

We’d only been down here for thirty minutes.Not too bad.His tirade about all the grief I’d caused him hadn’t been nearly as prolific as I’d expected.

“To be clear, Mr. Remington, I do not trust you. I do not like you. And if I had any other viable option, it wouldn’t be oranges in the bag.”

“If you had any other viable option, I wouldn’t have done my job right.” I smiled, and Belmont looked for a second like he might break his unspoken rule of “no trace” and punch me in the face.

“You didn’t do your job right,” he spat. “You ruined too much for me to just show up here with your pretty face and your glowing reputation. I might need you, but make no mistake, I know you’re here because you need me. You need this deal.”

On a normal day, I wouldn’t worry about him perceiving the subtle stiffening of my body. But this wasn’t a normal day, so hopefully, if he noticed at all, he chalked it up to my injuries.

“I’m here because I see an opportunity for us both to make a lot of money, old sport. And I like those opportunities. I’m good at making the most of those opportunities.”Fuck, my insides were starting to scream.

Belmont made a sound. I couldn’t tell if it was disbelief or something else.

“Well, Remington, you’re going to have to earn this opportunity after all you’ve done.”

“And letting you play…Whack-a-Man to soothe your ego didn’t do the trick?”

He snarled. “Maybe I will kill you.”

I smiled. “If I thought you had the guts, I never would’ve come in here alone.”

Stupid men got angry. Stupid men showed their hands—showed how easily they were thrown off by words. Belmont was a stupid man who’d weaseled his way into a powerful, wealthy position.

“You owe me, Remington. More than thisopportunity.You owe me for what you took. For what I can’t get back.” His lip twitched as he spoke.

“What do you want?”

Belmont regarded me for a long second before nodding to the scarred bald man who interpreted the wordless message and approached me.

“In a little over a week, I’m hosting the annual fundraiser for my nonprofit organization.”

“GrowGood. I’m familiar.” Familiar with how he used the charity to funnel funds from criminals to other criminals and their enterprises. “I’m happy to donate to your cause.”

“Oh, you’ll be happy to donate sizably to my cause,” he declared and then shook his head, for a second giving me a look like we were both in over our heads. “But I need more than money. He wanted more than money.”

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