Page 83 of The Vow

“Shit.” My heart leaped into my throat, and I grabbed the door handle, my heart jackhammering as Pat pulled into the lot of a scenic overlook and stopped the car with equal swiftness as his last maneuver.

I swallowed and looked around. Had someone followed us? Were we in danger? Was it Belmont?

From my seat, I could see Pat’s pulsing grip on the wheel, knuckles blanching and then coloring like a silent metronome until I couldn’t take the thud of my own heartbeat any longer.

“Pat…what’s going on?”

His broad shoulders sagged with a heavy sigh. “Just coming to terms with how painful he’s going to make my death for telling you,” he rasped ruefully. “He didn’t give Belmont access to your girls, Robbie. Never in a million years would he have done that.”

I blinked, the memory of Damon showing Belmont my phone and the familiar faces on the screen was not only as clear as glass but as sharp, the way it sliced through my breath.

“I saw it, Pat. I saw their faces. Their information onmyphone. I saw everything he showed to Belmont.” A wave of disgust rolled through me again. I had to warn them.I had to get out of here.

“Robbie—”

“Stop,” I begged. A surge of urgency had me trying the handle of the door, the latch flipping uselessly through my fingers as the door was child-locked. “Please, Pat. I have to get back to the house. I don’t care what you do with me after, but please just let me warn my friends—warn my brothers.”

“Listen to me. Christ, you’re just as stubborn as your infuriating husband,” he growled. “You saw what Damon showed Belmont. Not what he sent him.”

I choked out a bitter laugh.

“Really?Thatis what you want me to believe? How gullible do you think I am?” I tried the handle again, more out of frustration than anything. “Is that what he told you? How gullible are you?”

“Not gullible at all, Robbie, since I’m the one who was responsible for sending the encrypted information to Belmont on Damon’s signal.”

I stilled at his admission, the sheer force of his stare tamping out what was left of my lingering protest.

“You contacted Belmont?”

“I send all of Damon’s communication,” Pat said, removing his hand from the steering wheel. “Safer that way.”

I bit into the side of my cheek, my mind working through the information. It made sense. Damon was a ghost to the world for the last decade and a half. No sightings. No communication. No contact. It was his men—men like Pat who did everything.

“Here.” He drew me from my thoughts, his arm extended back, holding a cell phone.

I stared at it, then looked at him. It wasn’t just a phone—it was an agreement to hear him out. To consider a different explanation. And when my fingers closed around it, it became an admission:that part of me wanted to believe him. And Damon. And that this wasn’t what it looked like.

The screen was unlocked, and the first thing I saw was the opened conversation in the encrypted messaging app. A quick glance confirmed it was Belmont he was communicating with; the other party had initiated the conversation with a QR invitation to the fundraiser tonight. Not like we’d needed it to get in, but Belmont was about appearances, and he didn’t like havinguninvitedguests at his parties.

The most recent message was sent almost thirty minutes ago, which would’ve been when Damon told Belmont the first quarter of the list was delivered.

I tapped on the packaged file, a sheet opening that looked like an exact replica of what was on my phone…except the details were all different. My pulse sped up, my eyes zipping over the details.

The images. The information. It was definitely different. Completely different. I knew the women Damon had shown to Belmont earlier.Bailey. Morrissey. Kate.Mara.But these women…I didn’t recognize them at all.

“Who are they?” I demanded. Even if he hadn’t sold out my network, it didn’t mean he hadn’t put innocent women at risk.

“The first fifty or so are.” He paused and considered the right word. “Fugitives that Damon has helped over the years.”

“Fugitives?”

Pat’s jaw worked over an explanation that would be enough without revealing too much. “Women with colorful pasts like Damon’s. Ones he’s helped who owe him a favor.”So, other criminals,I thought, reading between the lines.

“And that favor extends to being kidnapped and sold as a sex slave to a Pakistani warlord?”

Pat snorted. “None of those women are getting kidnapped, Robbie. And trust me, they’d love nothing more than for someone to try.” His brogue thickened, rolling into the faintest chuckle at the end.

I bit into the corner of my lip. So, Damon had given away information on women who were well-protected, and judging by that laugh, dangerous in their own right.

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