Danger That Is Damion by Lisa Renee Jones

computed with what she’d come to believe as reality.
    “Then we’ll work it out together,” she said. “I’m going with you.”
    Damion unlocked a section of the desk and slid open a long drawer filled with an arsenal of guns, knives, and ammo. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, quickly selecting an array of weapons. “But I’m a loner. Always have been, always will be.”
    She was going with him. He’d find that out when she grabbed a weapon or two from the drawer. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean you aren’t calling for backup?”
    “Every second I spend explaining the situation to someone else is one less bullet I load, and one less second I have to get top side.” He reached for a Glock. She planned on claiming the one next to it as her own.
    “Sabrina won’t be alone,” Lara warned. “And she has no intention of trading me for the others. She’ll shoot us all the minute we reach the surface.”
    “As soon as I get to the surface,” he corrected, shoving the Glock into the back of his pants. She ignored the assertion. “Is there a back exit, a way you can get behind the scene, so you don’t get killed right out of the elevator?”
    “One way in and one way out,” he said, loading yet another Glock. The one she’d wanted. She’d settle for the Beretta a few inches up and to the right in the drawer.
    “Can you call back to the surface?” she asked. “Tell Sabrina I have documents exposing secrets she doesn’t want exposed, and those documents will be automatically delivered to a news station if anything happens to us.”
    His gaze snapped to hers, his eyes now black and hard. “Do you?”
    She shook her head. “All that matters is that Sabrina thinks I do.”
    “I’m not wasting time on a bluff with a gun pointed at Chale’s head,” he said, reaching for the end of the drawer to shut it. Lara lunged forward, her hand snaking out for the Beretta, but Damion was too fast for her.
    “You won’t need that,” he said, shackling her wrist. Before she knew his intention, he’d set her in the chair and cuffed her hand to the armrest. “You’re not going anywhere.”
    “Are you crazy?” she demanded, aimlessly tugging at her arm, like it would help. “You can’t do this alone.”
    “You’re injured, you’re hallucinating, and you’re the one they want, which makes you the last person who belongs on that elevator going up.”
    “You can’t go alone,” she repeated. “Sabrina won’t be alone.”
    “You’ll be safe here until I return,” he said, as if she’d said nothing worthy of reply. “We reprogram the entry codes to the elevator every time we use it, so right now, only you and I know the magic numbers. If something happens to me, the phones have a speed dial to Caleb. You can trust him.”
    He wasn’t listening. She had to make him listen. “She’ll kill one of the prisoners to force you into handing over the codes.”
    “I have a plan,” he said, and headed for the door. Then with his back to her, he added, “I always have a plan.”
    “Damion! Damn it,” she said, trying to roll the chair after him. “Macho stupidity will get you killed. You need me.”
    “Alive,” he replied, stepping into the elevator and turning to face her. “I need you alive.” She opened her mouth to scream his name again, to plead with him, but it was too late. The doors shut. He was gone.
    Logically, Lara knew that the only reason Damion was keeping her safe, keeping her alive, was because she had information he needed. This wasn’t personal. He didn’t care about her, yet the idea of him dying because of her—dying, period—twisted her in knots, and it felt darn personal. Illogically, irrationally, the need to ensure Damion survived expanded inside her, screamed with the demand that she act.
    Frantically, Lara turned back to the desk, her gaze catching on the phone. If anything happens to me , the phones have a speed dial to Caleb , he’d said. She didn’t even hesitate,