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by the fireplace with a glass of whiskey he had not touched.
The silver swallow clip lay on the table beside him.
He had not slept.
He did not intend to.
His mind kept sliding backward.
Eight years earlier, he had been twenty-nine. His father had been shot dead at a corner table eleven days before, and Damen had inherited the Vance name, the Vance house,continue reading …
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