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Diggs waited to see if I would continue throwing questions at him. When I fell silent, he said, “Short answer: I didn’t think it was them because they’re Irish, and what we’re dealing with is a family matter of sorts.”
A sharp, bemused laugh left me. “What?”
“You think you can handle me?” he asked, echoing his earlier question on a breath. When I just stared at him, he said, “Tree, I’m mafia.”
WILLOW
I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, watching each other in the idling car, in front of the open gates, as my mind refused to acknowledge what he told me.
There was just no grasping that the man in front of me could truly be that kind of dangerous. It wasn’t that I didn’t think he could do unthinkable things to protect me—I knew he could. I felt that he could. But I hadn’t once considered this path when I’d thought about all the different types of dangerous Diggs could be.
His family had a wild reputation? Maybe.
The people he was associated with, as Rorie had said, had an unlawful way of doing their good deeds? Probable, considering the minimal things she’d told me.
He had a bad boy side? Most definitely.
But to know Diggs lived the same lifestyle as the people who destroyed my world less than fourteen months ago? To know he was involved in the same depravity that fueled the fears threatening to consume me?
I didn’t know how to understand or accept it.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” I finally whispered.
“You already know I’m not.”
My body sagged as every ounce of air fled from my body on a rush.
“No,” I wheezed, head shaking wildly as I continued refusing to accept this new reality I’d been thrown into. “No, because Rorie...Rorie said her husband lets y’all into their home. She said you weren’t in a gang. She said you were good people.”
“The best,” he said without a hint of that confidence that could so easily slip from him. “I know what it sounds like, especially right now. But if you were ever to have a mafia family on your side, we’re who you want.”
“I don’t want a mafia family on my side,” I said on a disbelieving laugh and dragged my hands over my face. “This isn’t happening.”
Letting my hands fall to my lap, I sat back and felt my stomach drop at the emotionless expression Diggs was clearly forcing.
“Diggs—”
“Whether or not you want it to be happening, someone was in your apartment,” he said over me, tone cold and unaffected and not at all him. “So, for now, I’m taking you into this house and keeping you there until I know you’re safe.”
My mouth parted to beg him to just talk to me, to understand where I was coming from, but I wasn’t sure I knew what to say to him.
Not right then, anyway.
So, I just pressed my lips tightly together and tried focusing on where we were and where he was taking me, all while I tried figuring out how to get out of this. To get away.
“Running’s pointless,” he muttered as if he’d heard every one of my thoughts. But I was too stunned by the unbelievably huge mansion we’d just parked in front of to worry about him knowing what I’d been thinking.
Oh my God.
Turning off my car, he twisted to look at me and tapped my wrist. “I’ll find you.”
“What?” I breathed as a tendril of heat wove through my stomach at the touch and the reminder, betraying every one of my thoughts and sending me right back to my desperate need for the man next to me.
“If you run,” he clarified.
“Oh,” I said dully as that heat faded. “Right. Bloodhound.” But just as I began climbing out of the car, a thought hit me...a memory. Of being so transfixed by a veiled face and screaming when a giant dog had startled me.
“You can really smell anything?” I asked once I shut the door behind me.
