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“Been waiting to meet you,” he said, tipping his head in my direction. “For so many reasons you might never understand, I’m glad this one decided to figure out his shit.”
My eyebrows lifted as I slowly glanced at Diggs in question, but he just met my stare as he answered his brother, “She already understands.”
Silence filled the hall for long seconds before Maverick asked, “That right?”
“More than I wanted her to at this point,” Diggs said, his voice a somber breath as his fingers made that familiar path down my forearm, ending on my wrist. Facing his brother again, Diggs added, “Not everything, but more than enough. She’s actually why I called Dare about KSG.”
Shock colored Maverick’s features before he gave me a curious look.
“Which means she’s coming with us into that room,” Diggs said unquestionably.
“Understood,” Maverick murmured, then took a step back once Diggs began leading us in his direction again. “I’m Maverick.”
“I know,” I said as I automatically reached my hand out to shake his, horror ripping through me when I realized I’d touched a mobster without thinking. It didn’t matter how ridiculous that thought was, considering I was clinging to Diggs like a lifeline.
Something deep inside me knew and trusted him wholeheartedly.
I didn’t know the rest of the people in this house—Diggs’ identical twin included.
“U-um,” I stammered, my tongue darting out to wet my lips when I ripped my hand away from his. “I’ve actually seen you before.”
“Last week,” he said with a nod. “Diggs told me.”
“Right,” I whispered when he fell into step beside me. “My, uh...my name’s Willow.”
At that, a mixture of genuine shock stole across Maverick’s expression as he glanced at Diggs. “Did I find that out before you?”
I elbowed Diggs in the side before he could answer, forcing a heaving breath from him. “Did you tell him what you call me?” I asked as mortification rose in my cheeks.
“That was all I knew you as,” he said defensively, grabbing my hand in his again as he told Maverick, “I’ve known her name since last week.”
“I can’t believe you told him that.”
“Tree,” Diggs murmured apologetically, and Maverick barked out a laugh when I shoved Diggs away.
“Nearly everyone in this house goes by nicknames, Willow,” Maverick said as he led us to a closed door. “I don’t think Tree—”
“No one else calls her that,” Diggs said, laying claim to the name and me in that simple sentence.
Maverick just fought a smile as he looked between us. Once his stare settled on me, he repeated, “Glad he decided to figure out his shit,” as he opened the door, revealing a conference-style room that stunned me with the size of it.
It also had a very mob-like feel to it.
Not the room itself. From the light wood planks on the floors to the soft gray color on the walls to the extra-large wooden table and the bright lighting fixtures hanging above it, it was actually pretty modern.
But there was a heavy darkness that began seeping out of the room as soon as Maverick opened the door. Reaching out and whispering of past sins and pains and malice.
It had warning chills rising on my arms as Diggs led me across the threshold and toward the small group of people seated at the far end of the table.
Diggs turned his head, brushing his lips against my jaw and whispering, “You’re safe,” in my ear as if he’d felt my resistance.
I didn’t respond.
I just let my gaze move from person to person, carefully taking them in and noticing the way they were watching me.
Some with careful inspection. Others with excited anticipation.
And then I met a glare so cold and cruel, I staggered to a stop as that warning exploded in my veins.
