“Why don’t you have more stuff?” he asked, looking around.
Vi shrugged. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t stay in one place for long.”
His gaze narrowed on her face, as though he were trying to decide if she was being truthful or not. After a moment, he shrugged, and she felt some of the tension in her chest ease.
Only to ratchet right back up when Callum stepped closer to her. One step, then two, then… he was right in her face, only inches away. She stepped away from him instinctively, only to feel her back hit the wall.
Damn her tiny apartment. She was trapped by him, this hulking gangster who very well might decide that she was too much trouble. Callum could do anything to her right now, wipe down the room for his prints, and vanish forever.
His bright green gaze seared her, pinned her in place as he spoke, low and harsh.
“The other guys in my crew, Cor and Dec and whoever you meet in the next few days,” he said, his gaze dropping to her lips. “You can’t fuck any of them.”
Vi’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Callum seemed unperturbed by her shock.
“And you can’t tell any of them that we fucked, either.”
“Why would I tell anyone?” Vi asked, growing angry. “And you can’t tell me who I can or can’t sleep with, thank you very much.”
Callum glared at her. “Consider it a condition of me saving your ass. Or would you rather I leave you here, let the Valetti family hunt you down in the street like a dog?”
Valetti. Vi’s heart dropped to her feet.
“That’s who… the guy I shot, he was a Valetti soldier?” she asked.
“Underboss. And what the fuck do you know about mafia soldiers?” Callum demanded to know.
The Valettis were a prominent New York crime family, one of the infamous five mafia families. She did not want to be caught by the Valettis.
Vi sucked in a breath, summoning the lie she desperately needed.
“Nothing. Just… The Sopranos, you know?”
He stared her down for a few hard seconds. She just stood there, feeling trapped.
Callum seemed to lose interest after that. He dragged the suitcase off the bed, rolling it toward the door. “Come on.”
“Where?”
He stopped, turning to give her a frustrated look. “You can’t stay here. And unless you’re going to blow town today and never come back, you’ll need somewhere to stay. Somewhere with no paper trail.”
“I… I don’t want to go,” she blurted out. The name Valetti was still ringing in her ears. She wanted nothing more than to pack her car and drive off into the sunset.
San Diego was supposed to be nice this time of year…
“Do you want to die?” Callum asked.
“N-no…” she stuttered. “But I can leave on my own. I can be out of town by nightfall.”
“You stay here, you’ll be dead by nightfall,” he said, his matter-of-fact tone giving her chills. He had that quality that all made men had, that level of comfort with brutality and death.
It was completely unnerving.
“Besides,” Callum continued. “If they find you, they’ll make you talk. Ask you about me. I can’t have that.”
“So, what? I just slum in some roadside motel until you eventually settle your beef with the Valettis?” she growled.
The rise of his brows told her that she’d said too much. A layperson wouldn’t know how witnesses were usually hidden. She needed to play it cool, pretend she was totally unwitting.
And somehow not get killed in the process…
“Not a motel. You’re coming to my place to lie low. I don’t know what the fuck else to do with you.”
She snorted. “Nice. Great way to talk to the person who saved your life.”
He scowled. “No more resisting. Get a move on.”
“Wait. I can’t go anywhere with you unless I know your last name.”
He raised an eyebrow, probably because they’d already had sex and she hadn’t known his last name. Hell, she’d shot someone without it.
“Connor. Callum Seamus Connor.”
She stuck out her hand. “Viola Rose Walker.”
He gave her an odd look but shook it, then motioned that they should continue.
They made it to the darkened downstairs bar, where Callum parked her suitcase by the door. He unbolted it with a grunt, making her wonder just how bad the pain in his shoulder was.
Any normal person would be bedbound for a few days at least, right?
He twisted the keys in the lock and opened the door a few inches, light pouring in across his face. He squinted outside.
“Is that your Audi outside?” he asked, going a little tense.
“Yeah,” she said, twisting her fingers together.