Page 17 of Vow Of Fire

He gave a smirk. “You’ll meet him soon enough.”

“Meet him? What is the meaning of this?” I leaned over to reach for the lamp.

“Easy.” He raised the gun.

I froze, heart pounding.

Who did this guy think he was, breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night and waving a gun at me?

“I’m turning on the lamp,” I said stiffly.

He gestured with the gun for me to go ahead.

I found the switch and the room lit up. It wasn’t a bright light, unfortunately, but rather a soft, ambient glow designed to relax me before bed. I wasn’t a great sleeper at the best of times, even when I wasn’t hallucinating about hot, dangerous men.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, trying not to notice how he filled out that black hoodie with the sleeves pushed up, or the multiple tattoos crawling up his tanned forearms.

“And why the hell do you have a gun?”

I recognized the rose and snake on the back of his right hand, but on his left forearm, he had a jagged bullet hole inked straight over a mass of scar tissue, as if he’d outlined the wound. I also caught a glimpse of a line of script running up the inside. A phrase of some sort. Latin, maybe.

He saw me looking and pulled down his sleeves. Those eerie gray eyes darkened like storm clouds.

“In case you don’t cooperate.”

I gulped, feeling slightly less warm.

“Cooperate, how?”

He gave me a long, hard stare. “I’m going to need you to come with me.”

Hell, no.

“I don’t think so.”

I wasn’t going anywhere with this devil. Not at this time of night.

His voice was a growl. “I wasn’t asking.”

I stared at him, suddenly conscious of my near nakedness. The slip I wore to bed had slunk off one shoulder, the thin strap now dangling down my arm. I was showing an indecent amount of cleavage, and my uneven breathing didn’t help.

He noticed too.

I saw his gaze drop, a flicker of heat passing through those stormy eyes, before he forced them back to my face.

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked.

“About my family’s business.”

I blinked at him, the newspaper clippings and photographs I’d read rushing back. Strange accidents, missing people, failed investigations.

“I don’t know anything about your business,” I said quickly.

He slanted me a look. “That’s what we have to discuss.”

I watched as he uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet. The hand with the gun stayed taut.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I blurted out, body stiffening with indignation. “Ask me whatever you want then leave or I’ll call the police.”