by Ravenna Tate
He sat up, blinked a few times, and finally dared to glance at Tony. Emmi stirred next to him. The comforter couldn’t hide the fact they both were naked underneath it. Even if it had, the room reeked of pussy juice, cum, and sweat.
“Come downstairs when you’ve dressed.” Tony left the room, but it would be pointless to pretend he didn’t know what had happened.
Emmi sat up, her eyes wide. “Shit. Oh fuck. Oh goddamn.”
“It’s all right.”
“All right? It’s not all right!”
“Emmi, you’re an adult.”
“It’s their house.”
“And they’ll be happy we had sex. Think about it.”
She opened her mouth to speak again, but nothing came out. Digger’s heart went out to her. Clearly, being caught like this with him distressed her. He dressed while she did, neither one speaking. So many things sprang to the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want her to regret this anymore than she already did, so he kept silent.
He, on the other hand, would never regret it. Not for one single moment of his life. And in time, she’d realize she didn’t have to, either.
Teresa was back when they came downstairs, and the power was on, which surprised Digger.
“How did they get it fixed so quickly?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” said Tony.
“Mrs. Nichols said it was a breaker of some sort that was tripped, not downed lines.”
The roast turkey sandwiches might as well have been filled with rubber. The bread tasted like cardboard, although he knew it had been baked less than two days earlier.
Should he apologize? No. That was insane. They were both adults, and her parents knew how much he adored Emmi. Then he realized that Teresa had mentioned their neighbor. “How is Mrs. Nichols?”
“She’s fine.” Theresa gave him a quick glance. “Thank you for asking.”
Digger glanced out the window. “It stopped snowing, too.”
“Weather Channel says it over for this area,” said Tony. His voice was flat, and Digger couldn’t understand why the two of them were upset. They wanted him and Emmi to get together. “Moved out quicker than expected.”
“That means we can all get back to work soon.” And he could finally take care of that job Tony was still waiting for. Following the little punk had proven to be more complicated than Digger had anticipated, since he’d gone to Europe for the holidays.
Digger was more comfortable taking care of business on his own turf, although he’d have gone to the Artic Circle if need be. But Tony had told him there was no urgency on this one.
Emmi put down her sandwich, from which she’d only taken a couple of bites. “I am so sorry.” As she glanced in turn between her parents, the look of despair on her face tugged at Digger’s heart.
“Why?” asked Tony. “I shouldn’t have barged in, but I couldn’t find either one of you.” The words would have eased Digger’s mind if not for the fact that Tony’s voice was still flat.
Digger wasn’t sure whether he was upset, or something else. Surely, he wasn’t embarrassed. Then again, Emmi was his daughter. His youngest daughter. And even if he did want Digger to be with her, he likely hadn’t expected to find them in bed under his roof. They were both old-fashioned people.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” said Digger. His words finally earned him a longer gaze from Teresa. It was always best to step up to the plate in circumstances like this. “We … we were overcome.” Lame word, but it was all he could pull out of his ass on short notice. “But this is your house, and I should have been more discreet.”
“It’s Emmi’s home, too,” said Teresa. Her face was flushed. Was she embarrassed or upset? He couldn’t tell.
“It won’t happen again,” said Emmi.
“Well, I sure as hell hope it does,” said Tony. “Just warn us next time, okay?”
Digger and Emmi exchanged an astonished glance that almost made him laugh. “You’re not upset?”
“I’m not upset, but I don’t want to walk in on my daughter or you naked again. Capisci?”
Digger grinned. There was no way to help it. “Sì.”
Emmi and her mother locked gazes. “Are you upset with us?”
“I’m not upset. I just wish you had waited until later. After the house had gone to bed.”
As if that mattered.
“Your mother doesn’t think sex is appropriate for daytime.”
Teresa’s face flushed so deeply, Digger couldn’t stop staring.
“Papa, don’t make fun of her.”
Tony gave his wife an indulgent smile. “She knows I love her, even if she is set in her ways.”
“We’re all set in our ways,” said Emmi.
A shiver ran down Digger’s spine at her words. Was she talking about herself? Was one morning of hot, unbridled sex enough to change her mind about him? Digger lowered his gaze to his food.
This was the most awkward he’d ever felt at the LoPresti home, and he struggled to shake it off. These people were as much his family as Uncle Donny was. And Emmi was now his. The foundation had been laid. He obviously could do no wrong in her parents’ eyes. Not even fucking her in the middle of the day had turned them against him. His dream would come true. He was more certain of it now than he’d ever been.
Once lunch was over, Digger went into another room to take down decorations, while Emmi and her mother worked together in a different part of the house. That was all right. Anything he said to her right now could easily tip the balance away from him again. This was a precarious situation, and he had to give her time and space to process everything.
She’d reach the right conclusion. She was an intelligent woman. And in the meantime, he’d treat her so well that what he did for a living soon wouldn’t matter.
There was no awkward conversation during dinner. Instead, they talked about the local newscast, which indicted that the roads were now passable. Mr. Nichols came home from the city, which they learned when Mrs. Nichols called Teresa.
After they ate, Emmi spent the evening talking to her sisters and then several friends on the phone, while Digger watched TV with Teresa and Tony.
“You might as well stay one more night,” said Tony, late into the evening.
“You sure? Sounds like I can make it home now.”
“Stay,” said Emmi. Digger hadn’t even been sure she was paying attention to them. “There’ll be a lot of traffic. No sense in getting caught up in it tonight.”
Tony and Teresa exchanged a quick glance, but Digger barely caught it. He was too busy picturing what the coming night might bring. She’d barely spoken to him since lunch, but he hadn’t missed the furtive glances and long looks she’d given him when she didn’t realize he was watching. She’d been thinking about their morning in bed all day, the same as he had been. Digger would bet his pay for a year’s worth of jobs on it.
Once he was settled into the guest room, he still couldn’t sleep. Every moment of the day played in his mind, looping over and over. His dick was rock hard, and as much as he longed to jerk himself off, he decided to wait a while, in case she came to him.
A clock ticked softly in the room, marking the passing of time. Outside, the wind howled, leftover remnants of the storm. It was an old house and it creaked. The baseboard heating made occasional soft, gurgling noises, and if the wind hit the windows just right, they rattled slightly.
But the only sound he listened for was footsteps.
Finally, he heard them. Digger held his breath, and his pulse raced. He sat up in bed, waiting, praying, hoping.
Chapter Eleven
Emmi hesitated outside the guest room where Digger was probably asleep by now. This had been the longest, and the most confusing, day of her life. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that morning with Digger in her room, and she hadn’t been able to stop looking at him all day. The only way to find out if the incredible sex had been a fluke, or a first-time thing, was to do it again.<
br />
She had to know. Because in all the years she and Sam had been sexually active—and Emmi doubted her parents would be thrilled to know he’d taken her virginity when she was only fifteen—sex had never been this good. Not even close. She had to find out if it had been the result of being with someone new, or if this was truly Digger, all the time.
Not that fabulous sex could sustain a relationship, or change her mind about him. No. That wasn’t why she now stood outside his door, debating whether to knock or simply barge inside. No. Of course not.
Why the hell are you here then, genius?
Emmi opened the door and stepped inside, listening. If he was asleep, she’d leave. She stopped just short of gasping as light illuminated the room from his bedside lamp. He was sitting up in bed, a heart-stopping grin on his face.
“It’s cold.” He pulled back the comforter to reveal that glorious naked body she’d enjoyed all morning. “Crawl under here with me and get warm.”
“You look like you’ve been waiting for me. How did you know I’d come?”
“I told you this morning. You’re mine. It’s inevitable.”
This is only sex. And you are so full of shit.
“You’re freezing,” he said. “I can see it from here.”
She crossed her arms, and he chuckled. “Too late. I saw them.”
Her nipples were erect and poking against her PJ top. Of course he’d notice that. “Maybe I just came here to talk?”
“And maybe you didn’t.” He stroked his cock, and she drew in a sharp breath as her pussy grew wet. “Maybe you came here to fuck me again.”
“You know, sometimes you’re too fucking confident for your own good.”
“If you didn’t come here to talk, and you didn’t come here to fuck, why are you here?”
The sight of his hand, moving up and down the length of that magnificent dick, mesmerized her. “I’m not sure.”
“Come over here and let’s find out together.”
Emmi watched him for a few more seconds, then lifted her gaze to his. Lust and love filled his eyes. The latter was as unmistakable as the former. He’d leave in the morning and it was uncertain when she’d see him again, so she might as well have some fun tonight.
Before she lost her nerve, Emmi pulled off her PJ top and bottoms. He let out a low, soft growl as she walked toward the bed, and when she reached it, he pulled her down into his arms and kissed her until she could hardly breathe.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him and sighed against his skin as he trailed his tongue down her neck, over her breasts, and back up again before sliding his dick into her pussy. They fucked slowly, deeply, gazing into each other’s eyes as if they’d been lovers for years.
Her orgasm came gradually, strengthening with each thrust. He didn’t speak. There was no need for words. He knew when to quicken his pace and when to back off. How, she had no fucking clue, and after the second climax, she no longer gave a shit because it was real.
This was real. This was how he made love, and if she gave him what he wanted, she’d have this every day for the rest of her life.
After he came, they lay in each other’s arms. His breathing pattern told her that he was asleep long before she felt tired. Her mind wouldn’t stop. She even briefly thought about sneaking back to her own room, but that seemed cruel. She didn’t want him waking up to find her gone without an explanation. He’d assume the worst, and for the first time she could remember, she cared what he thought.
Emmi wiped tears from her face and sat up slowly. She hugged her knees to her chest and listened to the wind outside, which still hadn’t died down even though the storm was long gone. Would this have happened between them if there hadn’t been a blizzard? Would Digger have asked her out, or invited her to his place at some point?
Did it matter? It had happened, and now she had a decision to make.
All afternoon as she had worked side-by-side with her mother, she’d longed to talk to her about it but hadn’t, because Emmi knew what her mother would say. It was a foregone conclusion, as far as both parents were concerned. It was a foregone conclusion for Digger. She was the only one who resisted it.
If she asked her sisters, they’d say the same thing. And she couldn’t tell her friends, so that only left two choices. Accept Digger as he was, or end this now so neither one of them ended up hurt.
Except he would be hurt. He also would never give up. Which was kind of creepy if she allowed herself to dwell on it, but also flattering as hell. Because he was here, and the man she thought would never give up on her was now on the other side of the country, and had dumped her sorry ass without a second thought.
Emmi lay back down and snuggled against Digger’s warm body. Maybe if she slept, she’d find the answer in her dreams.
****
Digger spent three days following the punk around Brooklyn before deciding how to take him out. This was his favorite part of any job. Getting creative in how he made it look like an accident. It was his trademark. Not once, in any of the jobs he’d done for Mob bosses, CEOs, or anyone else who hired him, had the cops suspected foul play. That was an unparalleled track record, as far as Digger knew, and he took great pride in it.
As he waited inside a borrowed sedan, the job he and Jimmy Vaccaro pulled flashed through his mind. Well, okay. There was one job he wasn’t particularly proud of. The cops had ruled it accidental, but he and Jimmy really had taken a huge risk on that one. Totally worth it, it as far as Digger was concerned, but it too easily could have gone south.
The fact that he’d still heard nothing, other than di Stefano’s camp continuing to scramble because of it, was a huge relief. Even Tony hadn’t asked further questions since that one afternoon in his office.
He drained his Starbucks and ate the last bite of a double-smoked bacon, cheddar, and egg sandwich. Digger never liked to kill people on an empty stomach. It wasn’t that it made him sick to take someone out. Rather, it made him ravenously hungry, so he always ate beforehand.
The punk had driven to a warehouse in Red Hook where, as far as Digger had been able to work out, he and several equally self-serving business associates stored items they had stolen, or had made to look like the real thing. The way this punk made his money was a cliché.
He’d set himself up as an art dealer, but everything he sold was hot or fake. He and his band of cronies had been careful not to take items that were one-of-a-kind, or so rare, they’d hit someone’s radar. And the items they had made also weren’t ones that everyone was looking for.
It was the same concept as in the old days when the bosses would only deal in moderate-priced goods. Stay away from the low-end stuff or you won’t make any money, but steer clear of the high-end stuff so you don’t attract too much attention.
Tony was tipped off to this guy when he bought Teresa a wedding anniversary present that turned out to be fake. And he only discovered the fraud because one of Teresa’s friends came over, saw the vase, and lifted it up to look at the bottom. Apparently, some sort of maker’s mark wasn’t quite right, and this friend questioned it.
When Tony dug a bit further, he discovered what the guy and his friends were up to and confronted the punk about it. At first, once the kid realized who Tony was, he offered to get him the real thing and absorb the cost. He begged for his life, and told Tony he never would have sold him the vase if he’d known who he was.
But he strung out the deal for months, and eventually gave Tony another fake, only this time it was better made. Even Teresa’s friend was fooled. She told Teresa that this time, she had the real deal.
Tony believed it was over until a few weeks later, when he and one of his associates were discussing a recent job one of them had done. The punk’s name came up, and Tony learned about the second deception when the associate described an incident so similar to Tony’s, he might as well have been talking about the same one.
This time, when Tony confronted the punk, the guy actually admitted to giving T
ony a second fake. He also told Tony he shouldn’t take it personally. That it was only business. The only reason Tony didn’t off the guy himself was because there were people around at the time, and someone might have overheard at least part of the conversation.
This punk was not only a dumbass, but he had no style. No class. No sense of finesse. Digger would enjoy this one. And because so many weeks had now gone by, the punk likely believed he was safe from the Mob boss he’d ripped off twice. What a fucking idiot.
Digger had watched the punk key in the passcode that opened the warehouse door. Digger already knew it. He also knew how to disarm the security system. He’d gone inside the warehouse last night after using technology to detect the disarm code that a ten-year-old could have figured out. This punk was truly an amateur.
After Digger finished his breakfast, he did one more sweep of the area to make sure they were alone. He also made sure no one else was in the building by using a thermal imaging camera. There was no reason to suspect anyone was, but Digger needed this to be clean and uninterrupted.
He exited the sedan, put on a new pair of gloves, sprinted across the street, punched in the code, and waited. No alarm. Digger smiled. The punk usually went inside and didn’t reset the alarm until he left again. Getting the code hadn’t been necessary, but he was glad he had it anyway. You never know when someone will get an uneasy feeling and change their habits at a moment’s notice.
Digger’s pulse raced. There was nothing like this in the world. Not even fantastic sex felt this clean and pure. He shook those thoughts away before images of Emmi’s body distracted him. This was his job, and he needed to focus.
Following the incessant whistling, Digger walked into a small room near the back of the building. A laptop was open on the desk, and the punk’s back was to the door. He had a spreadsheet open on the screen.
Digger applied pressure from behind, just under the ears on both sides. The punk gasped once and then slumped over in the chair. He already knew from his prior visit to this warehouse, and from following him, that this guy was taking a Chinese herbal medication called FU-ZI, said to treat various ailments.
