I slept like the dead that night. It made no sense. After everything that happened and everything Zig had said, I should have been too keyed up to sleep. Somehow, strange as it sounded, it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I’d been walking through the past few months under a yoke of my family’s making.

Zig hadn’t said anything I hadn’t heard in whispered rumors my whole life. My father was some kingpin, mob boss. I hadn’t wanted to believe it. When I was sixteen years old, I’d confronted him about it. Daddy had laughed me off and told me people believed what they wanted. Just because he was successful, they wanted to tear him down by claiming he hadn’t earned his money by legitimate means. At the time, I believed him. I realized now it was because I wanted to so desperately.

There had been signs. Tons of them. When I was eleven, federal agents had come to the house and took my father and oldest brother, Gino, Jr., away in handcuffs. Daddy swore it had all been a misunderstanding. Sure enough, a few weeks later, it had blown over just like he said it would.

I lost count of all the times I’d walked into the kitchen only to have my mother and father drop their conversation and give me forced smiles until I left again. In the last few years, my oldest brothers had been doing it too.

The truth slammed into my chest with each beat of my heart. My father was everything Zig said he was. My mother was trying to be my father or fill his shoes. She was failing. Strong as she was, it wouldn’t be enough. I saw all of my father’s cousins and business associates in a new light. He was almost never alone. They were always around him, deferring to him, respecting him. But now, he was weak and they were moving in for the kill.

God. The kill.

Sweat beaded my brow as I closed my eyes and remembered the deadly echo of the gunshot that nearly took off my head. It was me. The gunman in the backseat of that car had been aiming for me. Only Zig’s quick thinking and strong arms around my waist pulling me out of the line of fire had saved me. Even now, Daddy was trying to protect me. My throat ached past the lump in my throat. Zig had said every truth I didn’t want to face.

Daddy was dead. He might still have a pulse, but what he said was true. My father was no longer in there. If Zig was right about why my mother brought him home, then I knew I could no longer deny the rest of it.

I kicked the covers off my legs and went to the bedroom door. This was a quiet house. Cozy, almost. But this room felt like a prison. It had no windows but a LED night light cast a blue glow from a wall outlet next to the bed. The bed was a double with no headboard. Zig had given me a tan, woolen blanket with “U.S. Navy” stitched on one side in bold, black letters. It was the kind of thing somebody’s grandfather probably brought home from the war. Now I found comfort in it as I clutched it to my chest and pressed my ear against the door.

If I closed my eyes, I wondered if I could hear Zig breathing out there. Even now, the thought of it warmed me in ways that shouldn’t make sense. Except they did. The last few days had spun me into chaos. Only Zig felt solid and real. He’d put his body between mine and a bullet just a few hours ago. I wanted to hate him. I hated that I wanted him. But I did. It was one more hard truth.

I padded back to the bed and climbed to the end of it, putting my back against the wall. I drew my knees to my chest and wrapped the blanket around me. I don’t know how long I stayed like that. With no windows, the room had a sensory-deprivation quality to it. Hours ticked by and I had no idea if the sun rose.

The walls began to vibrate and my heart lurched. I heard movement out in the main room where Zig was supposed to be sleeping. Instinct told me he likely hadn’t closed his eyes all night either. The vibrations grew louder and I recognized them for what they were. They were the loud, powerful engines of at least two Harleys. Zig had called for reinforcements.

I didn’t wait for him to come and get me. Throwing off the blanket, I went out into the darkened hallway. Peering around the corner, I realized Zig was gone. I took the opportunity to use the bathroom and freshen up. No matter what, I had a feeling this would be an even longer day than the one before.

I barely recognized myself in the bathroom mirror. My dark hair hung in wild waves all around my face. My cheeks looked gaunt and dark circles rimmed my eyes. I washed with soap and water. It did wonders for my outlook. Zig said I could probably find a clean change of clothes in one of the hall closets. He was right. I found a gray t-shirt roughly my size and a pair of men’s jeans. They were a little loose in the waist but I could make do. I rolled up the bottoms until they tightened around my calves.

Voices upstairs drew my attention. Taking a deep breath, I ventured up there. If Zig had wanted to keep me down here, he could have locked me in the bedroom or told me to stay put. He’d done neither.

As I came up the stairs, harsh sunlight stabbed through the windows. I shielded my eyes and walked into the kitchen. It probably hadn’t been updated since the seventies with orange countertops and brown paneling. Zig sat at the table. He wasn’t alone. Three other members of the Dark Saints M.C. sat around him. Each of them looked huge and fierce with dark eyes, hard muscles, and heavy ink. I recognized Toby, one of Zig’s prospects. A flash of guilt went through me. My antics last night had probably caused trouble for him. I’d be damned if I’d apologize though.

“Morning,” Zig said. He reached back and grabbed a coffee pot by the handle. He poured me a cup and slid it across the table. The aroma and steam coming off it were almost enough to make me forget everything that had happened. I lifted it to my mouth and inhaled the scent. Then I took a seat at the opposite end of the table.

“Gina,” Zig said. “You’ve met Toby. This is Deacon and this is Kade.”

Deacon had a mass of caramel-colored hair that he wore long on top and shaved at the sides. He had cool blue eyes with dark rims. He lifted his chin to me and shot me a smile. Kade had dark hair and coal-black eyes that made it hard to read his mood. He reached across the table and extended his hand to shake mine. I let him. His grip was firm and hard.

“What’s going on?” I asked, blowing across the top of my coffee mug. I was tempted to drink it right away, whether it scalded the roof of my mouth or not.

“I filled everyone in on what happened last night. But I’ve got to head back to Port Azrael and talk to Bear myself.”

I knew Bear was Zig’s club president. I supposed I should feel special that my case rated enough to draw him in. I also knew it was likely my mother was pulling the strings.

Something must have been written on my face or Zig transmitted some non-verbal message to the other men. In unison, they rose from the table, their chair legs scraping against the wood floor.

“We’ll be outside,” Deacon said. His eyes were warm when he looked at me and he gave me a tight-lipped smile. He’d guessed at something simmering between Zig and me. He patted Kade’s back as Toby led the way and they went out into the yard.

Zig ran his thumb over the handle of his coffee mug and wouldn’t meet my eyes. If I had to guess, he was working out how to tell me whatever was on his mind. I took a breath, trying to think of a way to let him off the hook. I didn’t want to. Not really. I’d been harsh with him last night but a single fact remained. It was when Zig Wallace walked into my life that everything turned upside down. Whether that was his fault or not, it made it hard for me to put my swirling emotions to one side.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking me off guard.

I blinked hard and took a sip of my coffee. It was hot, good, and strong going down. Exactly what I needed. Zig leaned back in his chair, crossing one booted foot over his knee. His leather cut hung on one corner of the chair. His tanned biceps stretched the sleeves of his white t-shirt. I had the urge to trail a finger over the swirling ink along his forearm. Each tattoo marked a point in his life that I found myself curious to know about. What kind of world did he live in? Mine had to seem like another planet. He thought I was privileged, sheltered, pampered. In many ways, I suppose I was.

“How long will you be gone?” I hadn’t planned the question, it just popped out. The minute I asked it, my anticipation of his answer seemed to hover between us, a weighty thing.

“A day,” he said. “Maybe two. I know this is jarring for you. But now you know what the stakes are. Kade, Deacon, and Toby are going to stay behind and watch out for you. They’ll stay out of your way.”

I let out a bitter laugh through my nose. “Right. I won’t even know they’re here.”

Zig flipped his palm away from his coffee mug. “I won’t lie to you, Gina. I haven’t yet and I don’t plan to start.”

Such a simple declaration. I had a snappy retort in my mind, but I didn’t say it. I realized with cold clarity that slammed into my chest that Zig might be the only man who could say that and mean it.

“Fair enough.” I took another sip of coffee. “But I can’t stand it. I can’t be cooped up like this for days on end, Zig.”

“Gina.” He shifted in his seat, taking a ready stance. I raised a hand to stop him.

“I know,” I said. “You don’t have to convince me. That bullet almost took me out last night. I’m sorry too. I wasn’t ready to face what really happened. I’m not sure I am now. I won’t run though. I respect you, I respect your men. But I won’t just sit back and cool my heels. I want to talk to my family. Today. Now.”

Zig’s expression changed. I couldn’t read it. He swallowed hard, making a muscle in his jaw twitch. His steel-blue eyes penetrated me, sending that now familiar warmth snaking through my core. He reached into his back pocket and slid a phone across the table. It was the cheap flip kind like you get at the supermarket.

“Call your mother. Call your brother. But give the phone to Deacon when you’re done and take out the battery.”

“Is it really as serious as all that?” The minute I said it, I wanted to swallow my words. How many more times did I have to get shot at to convince me? Again, I put up a hand in surrender.

“Okay,” I said.

Zig looked toward the front door and chewed his bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Gina. I’ve got to hit the road if I want to make it back. You’ll be safe with Deacon and the others. I swear to God. I swear it on my life.”

“You mean you swear it on mine.”

Pain went through Zig’s eyes and again I found myself wanting to take my words back. I wasn’t being fair to him and I knew it. It was just so damn hard to reconcile everything that was happening and I couldn’t seem to stop taking it out on him. He must hate me.

“If you need ... or ... if you want to,” he said as he rose to his full height, “my guys can get a hold of me.”

“It’s okay,” I said, rising to meet him. “I want to tell you I trust you. I think, maybe I do a little. I’m just trying to adapt to all of this.”

It was as close as I could muster to an apology and I had no idea if Zig understood it as such. Dammit. I was my father’s daughter. Stubborn. Proud. Pig-headed. Zig had to be wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He can’t have thought I was worth it.

He reached for me though. His fingers ran along my shoulder and down my arm, leaving a trail of heat the whole way down. I shuddered and stepped back, as if an electrical current had shot between us. I wanted to ask him not to leave. I wanted to tell him to hurry back. Instead, I just stood there as Zig gave me a sad smile, turned, and walked away.