Nope. I must’ve heard that wrong. “You live above Guy’s Garage?”
She nods.
A wave of anxiety floods my body. “Raven, there’s nothing over there but warehouses and vagrants. There’s not a decent human being within a ten-mile radius after business hours.”
Thinking of her all alone at night in that part of town makes my muscles tense. My mind imagines all the things that could happen to an innocent girl in that part of town after hours. The alley behind the garage is a festering crime spot. There’s probably all manner of piece-of-shit lowlifes lurking in the shadows. I’ll never be able to sleep knowing she’s over there alone. No.
“From now on, you stay here with me,” I blurt.
Her eyes flash in shock and her lips part.
I just took this too far.
“What did you say?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
I run my hands through my hair, trying to figure out what the hell is going on in my head. I’m having a hard time believing my own words. Did I just ask her to move in with me? I want this girl, more than I’ve wanted any other girl. There’s no denying that. The protective instinct stirs in my chest, something I’ve never felt for any woman outside of my mom and sister.
“You heard me.”
“Jonah, I’m not staying with you every night. That’s absurd. You barely know me. I mean . . .” She studies me, and I can’t help but think how her confused and shocked expression adds a cuteness to her already gorgeous face.
“I just want to keep you safe, and I can’t do that if you aren’t with me.” I take a deep, steadying breath. That felt okay. Not awkward, like I thought it would. “Besides, you work on the Impala most mornings. It’ll save on gas money.” It’s a stretch, but I’m desperate—also a new feeling for me.
“That’s really sweet of you, b-but I can’t.” Her expression relaxes, and she puts her hands on her hips. “I have to feed Dog.”
This is interesting. I can’t think of a single girl, not one, who would argue with me at my offer to have them sleep in my bed. And did she say she has a dog?
“Dog?”
“Yes. Dog.” Her shoulders square off and she lifts her chin.
She thinks something like having to feed her dog is going discourage me? She needs to get to know me better, which is exactly what I plan on doing once this conversation is over.
“Bring your dog.” I shrug.
“Bring my . . . but . . . I don’t have a dog.” Her forehead pinches between her eyebrows, and I fight the desire to kiss the skin smooth.
Damn, she is really cute.
“You said you had to feed your dog.”
“Right, Dog. My cat. Well, not my cat. The cat that lives in the alley.”
I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from laughing. “Let me get this straight. You feed an alley cat that you’ve named Dog, and that’s why you can’t stay with me.”
“Exactly.” She throws her hands out like she’s just made the point of the century.
I lose the battle against my laughter and nearly double over with it. “You’re, without a doubt, the most amusing girl I’ve ever met, Raven . . . uh . . .” I’m not going through this again. “What’s your last name?”
Her expression falls and her face goes pale. What did I say? She rolls her bottom lip into her mouth, raking it across her teeth. My laughter dies and instinctively I pull her into my arms.
“Baby? You okay?”
She exhales and wraps her hands around my waist. “I’m fine. You just caught me off guard.” Her arms grow tight as she hugs me to her. “I guess you’ll find out sooner or later.”
What the hell? What could possibly be so bad about her last name? I guess it could be Manson or Bundy.
“Morretti. My full name is Raven Morretti.” Her words are dull and lifeless.
Morretti? I look past her, squinting into the darkness. Why does that name—Holy shit!
Dominick Morretti. Las Vegas’s most infamous pimp. And her mom’s a prostitute. It all makes sense.
Not only have I seen his mug all over the news but I’ve actually met the scumbag. I’ve seen him at all our fights, working his girls. He tried to get us to throw down some cash for a night with a Morretti girl.
Raven looks nothing like him with her dark hair and olive skin, but those eyes. It’s amazing I didn’t make the connection before. The color is so unique, but, where hers are cool pools of Caribbean water, his are death by drowning. My mom always said, “The eyes are the windows to your soul,” and looking into Dominick Morretti’s eyes, it’s pretty clear he ain’t got one.
“Jonah?” Her arms grow impossibly tighter around my waist.
She’s got to know I know who her father is. Everyone in town knows who her father is. He not only runs the biggest prostitution ring in the state, allegedly, but he also owns half the real estate in town. And she lives in a studio above a garage?
“Yeah, baby. Let’s get you inside.”