by Ravenna Tate
“Your father did, but Mia also made sure I knew before you came downstairs.”
“Of course she did.” Since she could hardly shoot daggers with her eyes at her father for giving Digger that piece of gossip, instead she focused her anger toward her pregnant sister.
Next to Mia, her husband of less than one year, Joe, beamed at his wife like she’d hung the fucking moon. Emmi pitied their unborn child. With such twits for parents, the poor kid had no chance at all. Mia was a nasty bitch, and Joe had the personality of a turnip. Kind of looked like one, too.
“She can’t help her nature, anymore than you can.”
Emmi reached for the roasted veggies and piled her plate high with them. “What does that mean?”
“You have a short fuse. It’s who you are. Mia isn’t happy unless she’s embarrassing someone. That’s who she is.”
She passed the vegetables to Digger, who only took a small amount. “Sometimes I forget how much time you spend with this family.”
“Not nearly enough with you, though. It’s good to have you home for a while.”
“You say that like this is your home, too.” Which was a mean thing to say, but the man wasn’t family.
“It will be one day, when I’m with you.”
Emmi glanced around, but no one was paying attention to them. She leaned close to his ear. “It’s not going to happen, Digger. Give it up.”
“Never!” A shiver ran down her spine at the whispered word, so full of promise and determination. Even though his breath was warm on her neck, goosebumps broke out on her arms. Emmi reached for the lasagna and piled that on top of the veggies.
If she didn’t stop substituting food for sex, she’d have to buy new clothes. But this wasn’t the time to think of Sam. Her sisters and even her parents would be watching for a reaction. Her mother would be sympathetic, but everyone else would start in on her again about why Sam had been wrong for her on so many levels. Emmi couldn’t handle talking about Sam with the entire family. Not tonight. Probably not ever.
“Digger, I heard you were in Ohio for a while.” Her second-oldest sister, Anna, caught his attention from the other end of the table.
“Yeah. I was visiting my uncle and some old friends.”
“Which uncle?” asked Mia. “Donny Messina?”
As Digger nodded, Emmi rolled her eyes. This family knew way too much about Digger and his family members. No wonder he felt like he belonged here.
“That trouble he had with Roberto di Stefano is over now.”
The look that passed between Digger and her father at Anna’s words sent shivers down Emmi’s spine again, but not for the same reason as earlier. One or possibly both of them knew way more about that incident than anyone else at this table had heard. Emmi would bet good money on it.
“Yeah,” said Digger, his voice neutral and almost disinterested. “I suppose it is.”
“You know something about it?” asked Michael, Anna’s husband.
“Only what the news said.” But he was lying. The deceit came off him in waves. She dared to sneak another glance at her father, but his gaze was now fixed on his food.
“Must we speak of such things at dinner?” asked her mother.
By now, everyone had heard the story of how notorious Mob boss Roberto di Stefano, who had once held the borough of Queens and most of Brooklyn by the balls, had fallen in the bathtub and died, along with the woman he’d been cheating on his wife with. They were found in the master bathroom of her third-floor brownstone, on the Upper West Side. The tub was full, and both had apparently fallen against the marble edge and died of head wounds.
“It was too neat,” said Anna. “I think it was staged. Who ever heard of both people slipping in the same tub and falling in exactly the exact way needed for them to die from the impact?”
Digger shrugged after averting his gaze. “The news sites said there was a ton of oil in the water. It makes the bottom too slippery.”
“You would think they’d know that, since the woman’s neighbors told the reporters he’d been coming to that address every week for two years.”
“I heard di Stefano’s wife knew about Bess McFarland,” said Mia.
“Whether she did or not,” said Doug, Nicole’s husband, “now they’re both dead. What a waste.”
“Don’t you think they deserved it?” asked Michael. Doug and Michael hated each other, and every time they discussed a topic, it was worth listening because they almost always came close to a physical fight. Emmi found their bickering hysterical because both of them were morons, in her opinion. She put down her fork and rested her chin on folded hands.
“Expecting a good fight?” whispered Digger, leaning close to her ear again.
“Yes,” she whispered back, enjoying the conspiratorial way he winked at her. So much for not being interested, you hypocrite.
“I don’t think anyone deserves to die for making a mistake,” said Doug.
“Oh really? So if you cheated on Nicole, that would be a mistake? Not a conscious decision?” asked Michael.
“I’m not going to cheat on my wife.”
“But if you did, and you died while doing it, wouldn’t that be poetic justice?”
“You’re missing my point, Mikey.” Michael hated that nickname, and everyone in this room knew it.
“No, I’m not, Douglas. I’m saying that cheating on someone isn’t a mistake. It’s a choice you make.”
“A choice that you believe they both deserved to die for.”
“Well he didn’t deserve to keep cheating on her.” Michael waved his fork around, sending pieces of lasagna flying halfway across the table. “I suppose you think we should all feel sorry for them?”
“He had kids. Don’t you feel sorry for them?”
“Not if they knew he was cheating on their mother.”
Emmi bit her tongue to keep from telling Michael what a rude asshole he was, only because she knew how much it would upset Anna.
Her father banged his fist on the table. “Your mother-in-law doesn’t want us discussing such things while we’re eating, and neither do I. Change the subject. Both of you.”
Damn. Shut down before it even got good. They’d just been getting warmed up.
Digger and her father exchanged a long glance that further convinced Emmi Digger had lied about having no inside info on their deaths. He’d probably killed them and made it look accidental. Just because the cops hadn’t suspected foul play didn’t mean there’d been none.
A pro could make sure it looked like an accident. Donny Messina was Digger’s uncle, and he worshipped the man. Roberto di Stefano had put out a hit on Donny, for nothing more than wanting a piece of some shitty bar and a strip club in Ohio that Donny got kickbacks from.
Donny’s bodyguards had caught the guy who tried to hide in the woods and kill Donny, but that wouldn’t stop a man like di Stefano. He would have kept trying. It only made sense that Digger would want him dead.
And that brought her full circle to her conflicted feelings over Digger. He was a trained killer, and that was exactly why she wanted nothing to do with him. All her life she’d grown up around this kind of talk at the dinner table, and every other moment of her day-to-day life. She’d heard her father speak to people about killing others as easily as he might rattle off a grocery list.
The expectations were that she’d stay in the life. Marry a man who was in the life. Keep her mouth shut and become like her mother. Raise kids and never ask too many questions about what her husband did.
That was not the life Emmi had always envisioned for herself, and she didn’t want to believe she now had no other choice simply because Sam had forced her to choose, and had then abandoned her. Did she really need a man? Well, not for anything other than sex, at least.
But if she risked that with Digger it would turn into an issue because she knew he wanted much more than sex from her. He wanted her heart and her soul. Emmi couldn’t give either one to the kind of man Digger was.
No matter how hot he might be, or how good he might be in bed. No. It was never going to happen. She simply could not see it in her future.
Chapter Three
Digger had known Emmi all her life. He even remembered when she was born, though he’d only been eleven at the time, and wasn’t much interested in the newborns of his parents’ friends. By the time he was a senior in high school and she was seven, her quick temper and animated expressions had kept him laughing.
With three older sisters to watch over her, Emmi had been spoiled rotten. Still was. They indulged her, and as a result, she’d grown up believing she could get away with anything. But she was also an intelligent, determined woman.
She was the only one of the four daughters earning a post-graduate degree. And a law degree at Columbia University, yet. She also had dated Sam Fargate all through middle school and high school, despite her parents’ strong and frequent objections to the young man.
Digger had met Sam once, and that was enough to secretly agree with Emmi’s parents that he wasn’t good enough for her. Though, he’d never tell her that. She had to come to that conclusion on her own, and he was determined to help her do so. He would have her, but she had to give herself to him because she realized how right he was for her, or it wouldn’t mean anything.
All her life, others told her what she should do, what was good for her. And she’d always done her own thing anyway. Now, she’d decide on her own that what was best for her was Digger. He was certain of it.
He’d been in love with her all his life, if he was being honest. When she turned eighteen and he was twenty-nine, he’d told her he was going to marry her one day. He’d made it seem like he was only kidding around, but he hadn’t been.
She’d looked at him like he’d just suggested she marry a lizard. The timing had been wrong, the age difference still too noticeable to a girl fresh out of high school. It was no longer that noticeable.
At thirty-five, he still looked as fit and healthy as a man her age because he took care of himself. And now that Sam was out of the picture, he had his chance. Finally. Emmi would be his. Digger knew it as surely as he knew what had really happened to Roberto di Stefano and the unfortunate Bess McFarland.
“I thought we’d have coffee and dessert in the small living room,” said Teresa, Emmi’s mother. Her rising signaled the end of the meal. Digger loved coming here, but had to resist the urge not to laugh at Teresa’s formal ways. It was difficult at times to imagine she and Tony getting together, as she was the one with the money, and he was as blue collar and rough as they came.
Anthony LoPresti might now be head of one of the last surviving organized crime families in the country, but he had come from humble beginnings. Teresa, on the other hand, had been raised in a completely different world. Even this house belonged to her. It had been in her family for five generations, if you counted her grandchildren as one of those.
It boasted ten bedrooms, plus a wing for the staff. There was an outdoor pool and an indoor one, a workout room that rivaled any gym in Manhattan, tennis courts, garage space for fifteen vehicles, and gardens that were meticulously kept. A private beach gave way to stunning views from the south and east sides of the home.
Why Emmi had instead chosen to live in an apartment in Greenwich Village with Sam for the past six years was beyond Digger’s understanding. She gave the reason as not wanting to deal with the commute from Long Island, but that was bullshit. She could have lived in the dorms. She could have maintained an apartment in the city by herself and come home on weekends and school breaks. Her parents would have happily paid for it.
He managed to snag a seat near her in the living room, although it didn’t escape his attention that she’d gone out of her way to try not to be near him. It didn’t bother him that she avoided him. She’d always done that. But Sam had moved to California, and he wasn’t coming back. The bastard had actually forced her to choose, and she’d stayed here, where she belonged.
That spoke volumes about Sam, as far as Digger was concerned. It also convinced Digger that he was the one meant to be with Emmi for the rest of her life. Not the idiot wannabe musician.
“Why does everyone call you Digger?”
Vicki’s question pulled him from his reverie. Victoria was Anna’s and Michael’s daughter. At seven years old, she reminded Digger so much of Emmi at that age it was spooky.
“Because I like to dig holes.”
She giggled, putting a hand over her mouth. “You mean like at the beach in the sand?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Mommy, I wanna be called Digger because I like to dig in the sand, too.”
Anna gave him a droll look before turning her attention toward her daughter. “The name’s already taken, Vicki. You’ll have to think of another one.”
“But I want that one!” She crossed her arms and pouted, but when no one reacted, she moved onto the next thing, as seven-year-olds will do.
“Was I that annoying at her age?” asked Emmi.
“You find her annoying?”
“Watch her with her cousins for a moment and tell me she’s not a little shit.”
Jacob and Jamie, the eight-year-old twins of Nicole and Doug, were playing a game on their tablets. When no one paid attention to Vicki’s assertion that she wanted to be called “Digger”, she wedged herself in between her cousins and tried to get them to let her play, too.
“You can’t play,” said Jamie, with the exasperation only an eight-year-old boy can adequately voice. “It’s only for two people.”
“I have a tablet. Make it for three people.”
“It’s not a game for three people,” said Jacob. He was the more patient of the two. But when Vicki wouldn’t leave them alone, they got up and walked away from her. She began to cry, loudly, and Digger had to work hard not to laugh.
“See what I mean?” asked Emmi.
“She’s lonely here. She only has boys for cousins, and they don’t want to play with her. You had three sisters. You always had someone to play with.”
“Leave them alone,” said Anna, addressing her daughter. “Read your book instead.”
“I don’t want to read a book.”
Digger put down his plate and coffee cup. “Vicki, come over here. Tell us about second grade.”
At first, she looked dubious. But after a few seconds, during which she probably realized she wasn’t going to get her way with the game her cousins were playing, she walked over and sat across from him and Emmi.
“We learned about dinosaurs last week,” she said, with as much enthusiasm as she might voice while talking about watching paint dry.
“That sounds great,” said Emmi, “but tell us about the most annoying girl in your class.”
Vicki’s eyes brightened up as she pivoted her body toward her aunt. Digger couldn’t help chuckling. The two were soul mates, though neither one realized it. While he only half listened to Vicki prattle on about some girl named Julia, Digger kept his attention focused on Emmi.
She didn’t realize it yet, but she’d make a great mother. Emmi spoke with Vicki like she was a friend, not a little girl. She wasn’t condescending, and didn’t speak to the child in the ridiculous voice most adults used when addressing children, as if they were incapable of understanding speech unless it was high-pitched and sing-song.
Sam’s influence had kept Emmi from realizing her full potential. Digger was determined to break that wide open and help this extraordinary, beautiful woman become everything she wanted to be. And he’d be right there, by her side, to help her every step of the way. She belonged to him. Always had. Nothing less than having Emmi … body, heart, and soul, would satisfy Digger.
Chapter Four
By the time her sisters and their families left the house, Emmi was mentally and emotionally exhausted. She loved her niece, but the girl never stopped talking. She craved attention, and was willing to go to great lengths to receive it.
“You were great with her,” said Digg
er, still lingering in the living room over coffee and a second piece of mincemeat pie. It was one of Lewis’s specialties, and Digger loved it.
“She loves to gossip. If you get her talking about her classmates, she forgets everything else.”
“But that’s exactly what I meant earlier about you and Mia. You understand Vicki. You know who she is, and you use that to keep the peace between the boys and her.”
She stared at him for a moment while that sank in. “Guess I never really looked at it that way before.”
“We each have to know who we are, Emmi. It’s the only way to be true to our natures.”
Her parents were still in the other room. She heard them talking, but it didn’t sound like they’d be coming into this one anytime soon. “And what is my nature, Digger? Other than what you said earlier about me having a short fuse?”
He moved closer to her. It was difficult not to be drawn in by his looks and his charm. She did understand the pull he had on women, but she was used to ignoring it. Tonight, her emotions confused her. The loss of Sam was still too new, too raw. That had to be it.
“Your nature is to do what you want, when you want it. But you also have needs. I know you do. I’m here to fill them.”
Her pulse raced, but before she could react, her parents returned, and Emmi stood, stretching. “I’m really tired. Good night, everyone.”
Emmi desperately needed some alone time. Maybe giving up the apartment and coming back home for a while had been a mistake? But it had become too hard being there alone. Every inch of the place reminded her of Sam. And she hadn’t been able to concentrate on her school work.
The last thing she needed to do was blow her chance at maintaining her fabulous grades for the last semester. She didn’t want to land her dream job because of someone her father knew. It was important to do this all on her own.
But she hadn’t anticipated having to perform for the family quite so soon, or having to deal with Digger closing in for the kill now that Sam was gone. He was persistent. She’d give him that much. And her own mixed-up emotions tonight weren’t making this any easier.
