Page 59 of Linger

I spared a glance at Diggs, long enough to take in the worry and wrath filling his eyes, and guessed, “And someone should’ve been there with her?”

“We’re not alone when there’re threats,” he reminded me just as Dare came stalking toward us, clearly trying to calm himself.

“Libby’s with her.” He released a harsh sigh, then reached for his son. “She was supposed to take Mav.”

“Then send him over there,” Diggs said as if that should’ve been obvious.

Dare’s eyebrows rose before another short, irritated breath left him. “I’d never hear the end of it from either of those girls if I did.”

“It isn’t up to them.”

At that, Dare smiled. Bright and full of amusement as he looked between us. “Do something against this one’s wishes,” he challenged as he nodded at me, “then come back and tell me that.”

Diggs looked at me, studying me intently before his head subtly shook as he focused on Dare again. “This is about keeping everyone safe. It isn’t up to them.”

“Have fun with that,” Dare said to me, his smile widening as he started past us. Calling out, “Lily said they were heading back soon anyway,” to Diggs as he did.

In any other situation, I would’ve applauded Dare and been on his side. But I didn’t understand this situation. I didn’t understand this life where there were actual threats on families and legitimate needs to keep them in houses that weren’t their own just so they would be safe.

I didn’t understand the mafia.

So, I just kept my lips in a firm line and watched as Diggs wavered. Hands clenching into fists the way they often did as he fought with himself before he made his decision.

Jaw clenched tight. Hand on my back. Leading me to the room we were occupying so we could finish getting ready. But by the time we were headed to my apartment, since I’d left all my school things in our rush to leave the night before, we still hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

“Will you go?” I asked when I was turning onto the rain-soaked street I lived on, finally breaking the heavy silence we’d been in for what felt like an eternity.

“Jess will be in the school,” he said, blinking out of the spiral of thoughts he’d been trapped in.

“No, to—” I struggled to remember the name of the diner and finally said, “The diner. To be near Lily and Libby if they haven’t left yet.”

“Dare didn’t ask me to, and they aren’t my responsibility,” he said in way of answering.

So, no.

“Where will you be?”

“Close,” he said softly, reaching out to rest his hand on my thigh. “But when things happen, Dare uses me first, so I can’t be stuck in the school. I need to be ready to go.”

I let his words replay as I pulled into the parking lot and found a space in front of my building. Once I had the car turned off, I twisted to look at him and asked, “Why?” At his confusion, I clarified, “Why does he use you first?”

The curve of his mouth was slow and sinful and did horribly cruel things to me as he tapped the side of his nose.

Forcing away the torrent of carnal thoughts that had rushed to the surface, I asked, “Because you’re a bloodhound? I get you have an uncanny ability to smell things and people, but what does that have to do with any of this?”

His eyebrows knotted together as if I was missing something so completely obvious. “I’m a tracker, Willow. I can find people and I can let my family know when people are there who shouldn’t be—people Einstein’s technology can’t see.” He lifted his shoulder, then reached behind him for the handle. “But even if I didn’t have that, Dare would use me because I’m not afraid of running into the fight first.”

My heart dropped when I realized what he was saying.

But before I could gather my thoughts, my door was opening, and Diggs was offering his hand to me.

“Let’s go grab your stuff.”

“I can run in; you don’t have to come,” I murmured offhandedly, then rushed to ask, “Have you had to do that before? Run into a fight first?”

The corners of his mouth twitched as if the question amused him, but he just shut the door once I’d stepped out into the steady drizzle and reminded me, “No one’s ever alone. Not even for this.”

“You aren’t answering.”

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