When He Desires: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 1)
When He Desires: Chapter 21

Iron Raptors.

That’s what was written on the back of those vests. I’ve heard of them—a gang from the Midwest—but our paths haven’t crossed before.

Would have been great to keep it that way.

Rafe’s last instructions to me were clear—replace a place with no organized crime. That’s why Sandro and I had stayed out of big cities, but apparently, those leather-clad roaches had made it out to the middle of nowhere.

The good thing is that they don’t know me, which means they didn’t recognize me as someone who shouldn’t be alive.

But it’s not me I’m concerned about at the moment. It’s Blake.

“What were those guys doing here?”

She brushes past me, heading back toward the house. “Let’s talk inside.”

I follow after her, on edge. What would have happened if I didn’t come back when I did? She looked tense and afraid, just like last night. What do they want from her? Does she owe them money?

It doesn’t make any sense. She’s a bartender who works at a local tavern and spends her evenings with her nose buried in a book. I can’t imagine what business they could possibly have in common.

I shut the front door behind me and grab her by the arm. “Blake, look at me.”

Her face is pale and guilt-ridden in the late afternoon light streaming through the window, like she’s done something wrong.

And yeah, she fucking did.

“What were you thinking putting yourself in front of me like that?”

She leans against one of the walls in the foyer. “I was afraid he’d pull a gun on you. He’s erratic, and he’s got a short temper.”

“So you thought it would be better for him to pull a gun on you instead?” I demand. God, I want to shake her for being so reckless.

“Ye—“

I grab her chin. “No. The answer is no. Never and under no circumstances. I won’t have you put yourself in danger to protect me.”

She jerks her face out of my grip, angry tears glistening inside her eyes. “God, Rowan! Don’t you see? It’s me who brought danger to your doorstep! That man out there—Lyle—is my godfather.”

My brows furrow. Whatever I was expecting she might say, it wasn’t that.

She makes a frustrated noise and flees down the hallway to the living room.

I move after her. “Your godfather? How did that happen?”

She sinks onto the couch and grips the edge of it with her hands. “My dad was a rider too.” Her words come out like a confession. They’re loaded with regret and resignation.

It takes me a moment to process.

Blake, with her quiet demeanor and bookish habits, had grown up surrounded by a world of violence and crime. A world not so different from my own.

“Were you close?”

“God, no,” she says with a sad huff. “He didn’t live with us, but he came around every few weeks. And when he died, Uncle Lyle told my mom and I that my father asked him to keep an eye on us.”

That checks out. You always want someone to take care of your family after you’re gone, but you should choose wisely, or you could end up in a situation like this. “What happened to your dad?”

“He was shot by a rival gang member. They had some long-standing feud, and one night, the other man got what he wanted.”

“I’m sorry.”

She wipes the back of her hand against her nose and stares at the floor. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Lyle saw us out last night, and he wanted to know if I was seeing someone new.”

“Why is that any of his business?”

“When it comes to me, he thinks everything is his business. It’s why I’ve been careful not to mention to anyone in town that I was trying to sell the house. If he found out, he’d try to stop me from leaving.”

I sit down beside her and nudge her chin up to look at me. “You don’t need to apologize. But I want to know why you’re so scared of him. Has he done something to you?”

She stiffens. “No.”

My eyes narrow. I know the signs. “You’re lying.”

“He hasn’t done anything to me, Rowan. But he’s a bad man, and he’s hurt my mom. I want nothing more than to have him out of my life, but I learned a long time ago that it’s better to play nice around him. Telling him that I don’t want him coming around would only make him angry.”

There’s a lot wrong with that statement. I open my mouth to argue, but she keeps going.

“He stayed away from me while I was with Brett, but now—”

“Now, he’ll stay away because you’re with me,” I growl.

“Rowan, you don’t understand who you’re dealing with here. He’s dangerous. He’s not like us. He doesn’t follow rules, and he doesn’t play nice.”

Oh, but I understand perfectly. “I’m not scared of him.” I could put that man six feet under and come home in time for dinner if I wanted to.

She shakes her head, upset. “Your arrogance is going to get you killed. You should be scared of him. If they hurt you because of me, I won’t be able to live with myself. I mean, you’re helping me, and being this nice guy—“

I reach over and wrap my palms around her arms, trying to calm her. She’s trembling.

Her lips part on a strained inhale. “Rowan, please. Tell me you get it.”

What if I tell her the truth?

What if I explain to her that while she’s with me, she’s got nothing to worry about?

I wouldn’t even need the gun I keep in my car to take care of those guys. I could do it with my bare hands.

And I’d enjoy every second of it.

But something holds me back. Something about the way she’s looking at me—earnest and unguarded. I have this gut feeling that if I tell her the truth, her walls would come right back up.

So I take her hands into mine and say, “I get it. They’re dangerous, and I’ll be careful.”

Some of the tension in her shoulders disappears.

“But for the love of God, do me a favor and never refer to me as a nice guy again. The fact that you think I’m one is frankly more concerning than those riders.”

The frown lines in her forehead disappear. “Only you would replace that term offensive.” Her mouth twitches. “You are a nice guy, Ro—”

“Please stop. I’m breaking out in hives. I didn’t save your books, remember?”

She bites down on her lip, suppressing her laugh. “You’re right. You’re not nice at all.”

I grin. I like it a lot better when she’s smiling. “There we go. Now tell me, how often do those guys come around these parts?”

“Darkwater Hollow? Not often. They’re based on the outskirts of Kansas City.”

I nod. “Good.” If that changes, I’m going to have to do something about it.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I arch a brow. I’m thinking about all the creative ways I can end Lyle’s existence, so I doubt it.

She squeezes my hand. “You’re probably second-guessing letting me stay with you. I’m broke, with a crazy ex, and a godfather in a biker gang. I’ve got baggage.”

“I can handle it.” In fact, I’d fucking love to handle it so that she never has to worry about those fucks again.

She just sighs. “I wish my dad never got Uncle Lyle involved with us. I don’t know why he thought having him around would help anyone. My dad was bad enough, but Uncle Lyle is worse.”

“Bad how?”

Her jaw flexes. “For my dad, the gang was number one. Followed by partying, women, and gambling. Family was somewhere at the bottom of his list of priorities. And Mom always made up excuses for him. She loved him ’til the day she died.” Her expression darkens. “Never understood how she could stay so devoted to a fucking criminal.”

The sheer amount of fury she wraps around that last word sends ice sliding down my spine.

“My father smuggled drugs for Mexican cartels. He hijacked cars and sold them for parts. He stole, and cheated, and killed.” She looks me right in the eye. “How could she love a man like him?”

A pit opens up inside my stomach. “I have no idea.”

“Neither do I.” She tugs her hands out of mine and gets to her feet, frustration rolling off her in waves. “I need to shower. I’m covered in dust. Before they came, I was sorting through my things back at the house.”

“Okay. I’ll get dinner started,” I say numbly.

I watch her disappear into the bedroom. A few moments later, the shower starts.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

If only she knew who she was speaking to. If only she knew the things I’ve done. My record is no better than her father’s, that’s for sure. And to think I considered—

I can’t tell her. I can never tell her.

I rake my fingers through my hair and let out a low breath. This shouldn’t matter. My past life is exactly that—in the past. And I promised Sandro I wouldn’t say a word to anyone, so what the hell was I even thinking back there?

All right. There’s no point in freaking out. The important thing is that I kept my mouth shut.

Moving down the hall, I stop by the window that faces the front yard.

I don’t like the thought of leaving Blake here alone while those bikers are sniffing around. What if they come by again while I’m gone? What if they do something to her?

She said they don’t come to Darkwater Hollow often, but that doesn’t mean they won’t start now.

It’s better if I’m here to keep an eye on her. I sift through my calendar in my head. I can move some things around to minimize my time at the office, but not everything.

Which means I’m going to have to…

Fuck, Sandro’s going to kill me.