Page 6 of The Vow

I shuddered. There was nothing so devastating as the poison of his sweet words.

“Yes, well, then by that definition, you should’ve died the day you walked out ofit?—”

“March 21st?—”

Enough of this. I wasn’t going to get dragged into the past when my future was at stake.

“Do you have information that will incriminate Bernard Belmont?” I blurted out.

“I do.”

I winced at his purposeful choice of words and checked my screen.Pointed, but true.So, what he’d said back at Sherwood wasn’t just to escape the FBI’s clutches.

“What is it?”

His tongue swiped along his bottom lip. “I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not playing this game with you, Remington,” I said and pulled out my cell. “You can tell me or you can tell the FBI.” I’d spared him once from their clutches, but I wouldn’t do it again.

“I can’t tell you because information isn’t proof, Robber, you know that.” His eyes darkened, drawing into their depths and a different time where we’d been on the same side.Or so I’d thought.“I know enough to know what needs to be done. To know how to get to him. I know enough to have a plan and the means to get you what you want.”

“And bringing down Belmont was always my desire, not yours. So why did you come to me? Why are you offering to help me? What end of yours does this serve?” I faltered there, recalling a time when we’d been partners rather than enemies, and then just as quickly pushed it aside; I wouldn’t be caught off-guard by my husband’s ulterior motives again.

“Because you’re my wife. You are my end,” he murmured like a man at the altar professing his wedding vows, rather than a criminal attached to a polygraph machine.

The flutter in my chest tripped, my pulse falling flat on its face. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I dropped my gaze to the laptop screen, aching for the program to reveal his lie.

Truth.

Shit.

Looking up, I found his smug smile waiting for me. I balled my fist, wanting to punch the sweetness right off his too-handsome face.

“You’re right. I am your end.” I sat forward, informing him with a tense voice, “I will be your end. Not as your wife but as the reason you end up in cuffs being hauled away by the FBI. So, if you still want to only work with me, knowing that’s where you’ll be…”

Damon didn’t even flinch. “For you, I will gladly end up in cuffs.”

I barely caught my eyes before they rolled. Only Damon would greet the threat of life in prison as some sort of kink proposition. Just like every other god before him, his hubris would be his downfall.

I reached for the edge of the screen to close the laptop, his voice stopping me.

“Ask me what you really want to ask me,” Damon taunted, his silver eyes gleaming. “What you really want to know.”

I shivered, the temptation running through my blood like the smell of alcohol to an addict.

Why did you leave? Why did you betray me? Why did you break my heart?

“You’re angry, Robber.” His voice was raw, the confidence in it tarnished—something I didn’t want to acknowledge. “Ask me for the truth and let me make it better.”

No.I shook it off. To want to know meant I cared, then and now. And I didn’t—couldn’t if I wanted to survive another round with him.

“Why would I ask for the truth from a man I don’t trust?”

The corner of Damon’s jaw pulsed. Slowly, he sat back and reached in his pocket.

“What are you doing?” My finger twitched onmy weapon.

“Getting you to trust me.”

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