Chapter 2

2

NATALIE

I know him.

Living in a small town, I guess it isn’t surprising. He’s been at the bar I waitress at more than a few times, holding shady meetings with dubious folks who carry a bad reputation. Much like himself, I suppose. But I guess you don’t get a name like the Demon of Delta County by helping the homeless or rescuing kittens from trees.

And his presence in my house can only mean trouble.

“Please, Mr … Dante, put the gun down. Don’t hurt my baby,” Mom screeches. Tears roll down her cheeks, and she’s half slumped over, pretty much begging from the knee.

I’m still pinned to the wall, staring down the barrel of Dante’s gun. My heart’s thumping, and the waves of adrenaline coursing through my veins leave me lightheaded and on the verge of collapse.

Dante listens to her. His arm drops to his side, but his finger remains firmly on the trigger.

“Your daughter?” he asks, shrugging his massive shoulders. His other hand, pinching my father’s ring finger between a pair of pliers, releases and returns the tool into his pocket. “Didn’t know you had a child.”

“What do you want?” As hard as it is to say, I get the words out. If I can keep his attention on me, maybe it’ll stop him from doing whatever he came to do.

“Dear ole dad owes me a lot of money,” Dante says.

Why am I not surprised? I don’t blame Dad for taking money from Dante. He’s down on his luck, and he’s always done whatever he could to support our family.

“Leave her out of this. She does?—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dante’s attention breaks away from me briefly as he looks over his shoulder at Dad. “I’m not talking to you, so wait your fucking turn.”

I’ve seen Dante’s aggression before, hurling insults and starting bar fights without a care in the world about the consequences. More than once, I caught myself chewing my lip in disbelief at my own twisted fantasies and curiosity the Demon roused in me. Even now, I can’t shake them. A stranger in our home, commanding the room as if he owns the damn place, with unequivocal ruthlessness.

What does that say about me? Managing a way to appreciate his cruelty, even when it’s directed at my parents.

“I can give you money.” I peel myself off the wall, sending a nervous hand into my bag. “It isn’t a lot. It’s what I got off tips from my shift, but you can take it.”

I grab the one-hundred and twelve dollars in various note denominations and hold it out to him.

“I don’t want your money.” Dante holsters his gun and chuckles coyly, as if I’m supposed to be in on whatever got him laughing.

“But it’s all we’ve got. Please, take it. I’ll make sure to have more next week. I didn’t?—”

“I don’t want your fucking money,” Dante snarls. He takes his first step away from Dad and starts making his way to me.

No one speaks. Hell, I’m not even sure any of us are breathing anymore. But I don’t cower or try to run from the monster approaching me. One of us has to stand up to him, even if I barely meet his chest while wearing my platform sneakers.

His haphazard gawking settles on my breasts. It knocks the wind from my lungs, and I don’t think it’s out of fear. My mind races with fear, but my body enjoys his hungry gaze, aches for it, begs for it.

This may be the first time Dante’s noticed me, but I’ve had more than enough time to get acquainted with his features. Handsome, brutish, and strong. Every girl’s wet dream, walking around in suits that cost more than our house like he rules this whole damn town.

Settle down, Nat. Now isn’t the time to slip away into one of your fantasies.

“Then what do you want?” I ask. His intimidating approach is one thing, but it’s the cold look in his eyes that hits the hardest. Even with the smug grin on his face, pleased with whatever thoughts roam his mind, his eyes never lose their sharp edge.

“What I want, you won’t want to give.” He runs a hand through his slicked-back, ebony hair. “You keep your money, keep feeding this house, and I’ll square off your dad’s debt.”

“Baby, it’s going to be okay,” Mom says, but we both ignore her. This isn’t about her or Dad right now.

It’s me and Dante playing a dangerous game I’m about to lose.

“What do you get in turn?” I ask as Dante gets within arm’s length. I can come up with guesses as to what he wants, but it won’t do me any good. I might as well hear it straight from his mouth.

“You,” is all he answers.

I’m locked in place, staring straight at his strong jawline and breathing in his woody cologne. But the thing that surprises me most, or maybe makes me feel more insane, is looking into his eyes. Even those dastardly, deep brown orbs flecked with gold hold beauty in them.

Dante takes my open hand and closes it into a ball around the money I held out to him.

“Me?” I ask out of disbelief, but it wouldn’t take Einstein to figure out what he meant.

He nods. A smile creeps across his face while he drinks my body in one last time. Without another word, he spins on his heel and steps through the door I just entered, humming a tune all the way back to his car.

“You don’t have to get involved in this,” Mom says, snapping me from my daze when Dante’s car pulls off our driveway. She’s in a mess of tears, running toward me with open arms. “You don’t have to fix your dad’s fuck ups.”

A heavy-hearted sigh rolls out of Dad’s chest from behind her. “She’s right, Nat. Don’t get involved with this bad business because of me.”

“I’m not,” I say, with a newfound confidence in my decision. “I want to help, and I’ll do it anyway I can.”

Even if it means being bought by a mafia enforcer.