Hart of Darkness Page 13

  As soon as I was outside in the open air, I clutched my stomach, willing the pain to go away, or maybe it was hunger pangs. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  My phone chimed. Dillon’s name blared on the screen. “Hey,” I answered.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Was Ted angry that you helped Nadine?”

  I guessed I sounded as if the world was ending.

  “Ted was pissed, but it’s nothing.” More than nothing. I’d gotten my ass chewed out by Ted over Nadine, then he’d launched a surprise attack I wasn’t prepared for. “Ted told me the Crow is closed for renovations.”

  “I know. I had a bit of time after I took care of my family business. They open next week.”

  That news sucked the big one. I was about to spill everything Ted had told me about Miguel and the Black Knights then remembered it wasn’t for the public, not even Dillon. I had to respect Ted’s wishes. After all, he trusted me. “I have work to do anyway.”

  “I sense something other than Nadine is bothering you. You know you can talk to me,” he said sweetly.

  The problem was I wouldn’t want to talk. At the moment, I wanted to screw someone’s brains out. I wanted to feel something other than hatred, despair, and frustration. I wanted to feel as though my life had a purpose other than revenge.

  “It’s family business. Talk soon?”

  “You know where to find me.”

  As soon as we hung up, I wanted to bawl my eyes out. The toughness I wore as a shield and a badge of honor cracked. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure who I was.

  If you know your past, then you can conquer your future. Those were my words and mine alone. As much as that statement made sense to me, I didn’t think I could meet my mother, let alone forgive her.

  17

  Dillon

  It had been two long days since I’d talked to Maggie, seen my father in the hospital, and learned that Grace could be alive. After I’d left my old man, I’d driven by the Crow. I’d even knocked on the club’s door since the lights had been on, but no one answered.

  The sign had read Closed for renovations. Updates are posted on our website. The grand reopening date, according to their sign, was next week. I was itching to talk with the owner or anyone in the club to see if they would recognize Grace. Now that my old man had given me a new description of my sister, I had a little bit more to go on, although I didn’t need to know that her hair was short. The hummingbird tattoo on her neck was a clear identifier and hard to miss, as were the tats on her arms.

  I lounged on the couch in my game room, with my laptop on my legs and my phone on the cushion next to me. The stereo was on low as I checked the Crow’s website for any updates on whether they would open a little earlier than expected. I’d even called the number listed on the site, but the phone rang endlessly.

  My next move was to see if Duke had seen Grace. I also wanted to ask him if he had any knowledge of the Black Knights. But my brother was out of town on business. I’d stopped by his penthouse and learned from the bellman that Duke wasn’t due back in town until late the following week.

  It seemed as if the stars weren’t aligned for me to find out anything else on Grace, which was par for the course since I’d started searching for her. I would get a tiny ray of hope, only to find that the lead didn’t go anywhere.

  I was tempted to call Duke. After all, I didn’t need to see him in person to ask questions. But I wanted to see his body language when I told him that our old man had seen Grace a few months ago. I wanted to read him when I asked if he’d seen her too. It was hard to think that Grace wanted nothing to do with me.

  My phone rang, making me flinch a little.

  “Dillon, it’s Manny. I’m returning your call. Sorry, I’ve been busier than ever.” I heard papers shuffling in the background. “Norton is still here. He’s struggling through, but he seems to be a fighter.”

  “That’s great. Any sign from my old man?”

  “Sorry, I’ve been looking out for him, but no.”

  I wasn’t surprised. I’d called Manny the day before to check on Norton and give him a heads-up that maybe, just maybe, Jerome Hart might walk his drunken ass into Manny’s shelter.

  “Thanks for the call. If Norton disappears or my old man shows up, can you give me a shout?”

  “Sure thing. Got to run.”

  At least Norton had listened to me. I hoped that my father would take my advice since he’d gotten alcohol poisoning. I wished I cared as little about Grace as I did about my father. The notion that she could be alive was eating a hole in my stomach. One minute, I was smiling that she hadn’t ended up like all those dead girls I’d seen in the morgue over the years, or like Nadine. Then the next, I was fuming.

  I snagged the remote control for the stereo and turned up the song “Lullaby” by Nickelback instead of thinking about Grace. If I wasn’t thinking about my sister, then Maggie occupied my thoughts constantly.

  At the thought of her name, I shoved my fingers through my hair. I’d been dying to call her, but after our encounter in my kitchen on Tuesday, I’d wanted to give her some space. Something other than Ted was bothering her, and I didn’t know if it was me or not. I’d been kind of cold to her during our discussion about a platonic relationship. I was also worried that she could be in danger. However, she’d mentioned that she had work to do, and I knew she had a deadline to get a story written for the Sunday paper.

  The war going on in my head ended when a text from her lit up my screen.

  Hey. Are you around?

  I grinned and sighed heavily. What’s up?

  Are you free? Can I stop by?

  I wasn’t planning on heading over to the shelter. I’d spent the last two days in my office, doing paperwork, researching the Crow, trying to get a hold of Duke, and cleaning up the yard at the shelter. Angel and Debbie were doing well, and Rafe and Hunt had the security under control.

  I’m at my house. Come on over.

  The doorbell rang.

  I arched an eyebrow as I ran upstairs.

  The bell went off again. Surely, Maggie hadn’t sped over here.

  When I opened the door, my jaw dropped, not so much because she’d texted me while standing on my porch, but because the sadness in her eyes gutted me. I almost reached out to hug her, but we were doing the friend thing.

  Friends hugged each other, but not me. One hug, and I would want to keep going. Hell, I had wanted to strip her bare when I was consoling her as she’d cried over Nadine. I wanted to throw her up against a tree at Paul Revere Park and kiss her lights out. But kissing equaled feelings that were too intimate for me. Plunging headfirst into a steady relationship wasn’t what I was expecting, but I was on the verge of wanting that with and only with Maggie.

  The woman was driving me insane. Platonic could go suck the big one. I could kick myself for suggesting we keep sex off the table.

  She waved a hand in front of me as she glided in. “Hey. Now you’re letting out the cool air.”

  My internal struggle waned for the moment as I closed the door. However, the need to pull her to me, taste her, and nibble on her was strong. So was the idea that I had a king-size bed upstairs that we could make use of.

  I skirted around her before I gave in, whisked her off her feet, and took her to my room. “We can talk down in the game room.” If she wanted more than friendship, then I had to let her make the first move.

  Once she walked into the game room, she lingered near the entertainment center lining the wall adjacent to the door. She scanned the area, which was made up of a chaise lounge, a big-screen TV, a couch, a pinball machine, and a couple of other gaming tables. “I was wondering if we could talk.” She lowered her gaze, seemingly embarrassed about something.

  Shyness on her was a first, and I realized the look was sexier than her I’m woman, hear me roar exterior.

  I eased down onto the couch that was facing the entertainment center, hoping she would come join me so I could make her feel comfortable.<
br />
  “I don’t have any girlfriends.” Her eyes were darting everywhere but at me. “I work with women, but I don’t tell them my secrets or hang out with them after work. I’ve always been a loner. If I did hang with anyone, it’s been with guys. Since we’re doing the friend thing, I need some advice.”

  We finally locked eyes, and I saw that pain etched her pretty face. Man, she was beautiful. Her lashes were long and soft, and the light color of brown brought out her shamrock-green eyes, sucking me in.

  She slipped her hand into the front pocket of her messenger back and produced an envelope. “I spent my entire childhood in foster care. My parents left me at a firehouse when I was a newborn.”

  I couldn’t help but open my mouth. What the hell? I thought I had a miserable childhood. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but if she was like me, and I was beginning to realize she was, she didn’t want pity.

  “I’m not enamored with the idea of meeting my parents. But Ted went against my wishes and found my mom.” She stared at the envelope as if she were trying to light it on fire. “Her address is in this.” She held up the envelope. “What would you do?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know how much you know about me except my brothers and me were in a gang and Grace disappeared, but I’m not the best person to ask.” I scratched my head. “My mother took off when I was a kid. But she left because my old man is a drunk and a bastard. It might be good for you to settle your curiosity about why she did what she did.” As much as I was angry with my mom, I wouldn’t mind seeing her and hearing her side of the story. Granted, I was ninety-nine percent sure she had left because of my father, but I’d never actually heard her say that. I would also like to understand how a mom could leave her children with a man who was abusive. That was the huge question on my mind.

  Maggie sat down beside me. Then she covered her face with her hands.

  My fingers were primed and ready to dance down her back and rub her troubles away. But I was afraid she would get the wrong idea and tense up, and that would pain me.

  “Is your mom the reason you sounded upset on the phone after you left Ted’s precinct?” I asked.

  She shuddered as she nodded.

  “If it helps, I had to leave you the other night because my father was in the hospital for alcohol poisoning. I didn’t want to go, but given the news from Syd about Grace, she might have gone home to find me or one of my brothers. It turns out my dad saw Grace about four months ago in her room, packing some clothes. Or at least he thinks it was four months. Since he’s constantly drunk, who knows?”

  She whipped around. “For real?”

  “Crazy, right? Look, Maggie, you don’t need to make a decision on whether to see your mother or not at this moment. My advice? Take some more time. I can see you’re not ready.”

  She gave me a warm smile as the tension left her.

  As for me, I was ready to release some tension too, but not the emotional kind.

  18

  Maggie

  I sat crossed-legged next to Dillon, wanting nothing more than to curl up in his lap. The game room, as he called it, was cozy, and with him in it, it was even more relaxing. I’d debated whether to come over or not. After the exchange we’d had in his kitchen, I didn’t know if our friendship would go anywhere because maybe he’d been cold or hurt. I couldn’t tell. I was finding that Dillon didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, although when he’d brought up Kelton, I knew he was jealous.

  Despite Dillon’s feelings, his place was a one-hundred-eighty-degree difference from my apartment. The couch my butt was planted on was covered in a suede fabric, and the springs weren’t poking my bum like the one I owned. Not only that, the large-screen TV gave me the sense I was living like a queen. Foster homes barely had a TV the size of a small cardboard box, and I didn’t own a television.

  Dillon tucked one leg underneath him, while the other dangled over the edge of the cushion. I was learning that Dillon liked to be barefoot, or so it seemed.

  I relaxed back, cocked my elbow against the couch, and rested my head in my hands. “I wanted to ask you something else.”

  He flicked hair from his forehead. His hair was always so disheveled, and that made him more appealing to me.

  I gripped my braid with my free hand, mainly to prevent me from touching him. “I’m working on a story about Nadine. Her funeral is tomorrow up in Charlestown at eight a.m. Do you want to go with me?”

  He scratched his beard. “I’m supposed to see Denim. If I can get on the road no later than eleven, then sure. Want to tag along?”

  Denim was doing some investigative work for me, and Ted hadn’t given me anything to print, even though I knew who the leader of the Black Knights was now. What I didn’t know was if Cory was part of that gang. Regardless, Denim might have found out something interesting, and even if he hadn’t, I would get to hang out with Dillon, and that excited me.

  I nodded.

  He reached out and tugged on the end of my braid. “Do you always wear your hair in a braid?” His hand lingered close to my breast.

  When I glanced down, he removed his hand quickly, as though he’d done something wrong.

  I wouldn’t say it was wrong. It wasn’t a chaste gesture, but at that moment, friendly signs or motions went out the window, especially when the tip of his tongue touched his lip ring. I wanted his tongue to touch places that were hidden and private and throbbing with need.

  I leaned in to touch his hair, only to pull back. We’d agreed to keep things nonsexual. Stupid me. We should’ve agreed to be friends with benefits.

  A predatory grin lit up his face as his eyes became hooded, dark, and sultry.

  My pulse quickened. I reached out again, and this time I laced my fingers through his unkempt hair. It was silky, thick, and shiny. He closed his eyes and let me play. I scooted the tiny distance closer to him, my knee grazing his denim-clad thigh.

  “Aren’t we doing the friend thing?” he asked on a sigh.

  “I want to play.” Boy, did I ever. I knew he would ruin me for any other guy from there on out. I knew he would break the lock on my heart.

  I also knew I had to release the pressure that was mounting between my legs. I’d used my vibrator the night before, thinking of Dillon as I played with myself. My climax had been great, but the real living being, who was allowing me to play much like he had when he’d had me pinned against his kitchen counter, was icing on the cake. I wanted to scream his name while I was going over that edge to the best orgasm in the world, and I was so darn sure he could give me one to remember.

  He didn’t move as my fingers danced along his scalp. I was breathing heavy, but he was calm, reserved, and studying me intently. The gold flecks in his brown eyes looked like fire spitting out of a pit. He reminded me of a lion stalking its prey, wild, noiseless, and deadly, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

  I abandoned his hair, working my way south, stopping to feel every hill and valley of his chest.

  Desire swirled in my belly, a cyclone of heat, warming every nerve ending. As I played, I sank my teeth into my lower lip, my pulse soaring like an eagle over the treetops.

  I dared not lower my gaze to his crotch. I was afraid that if he had an erection like the one I’d felt the other day, then I would have my clothes off in a second. That wouldn’t be a bad thing, but he wasn’t giving me any indication he would reciprocate, and I wanted to savor the anticipation of what I prayed would happen next.

  Nevertheless, successful people in the world never reached their goals without taking risks. So I rubbed my way down his abdomen then back up then down a little farther than before. I brought up the image of him shirtless, remembering how that happy trail of his disappeared below his waistline.

  I locked eyes with him when my fingers rested on his belt. His eyelids were hooded, almost sleepy with lust. But something else resided in the depths between the brown and gold specks of his irises that I couldn’t pinpoint until my fingers slip
ped in the waistband of his jeans. Then a dragon emerged, breathing fire out of his eyes, and he flipped me onto my back before I could protest.

  I squealed and huffed at the same time.

  He straddled me, his knees on either side of me, but didn’t put his weight on me. “Once we go down this road, Maggie, there’s no going back.”

  “I know.” He’d been on my mind when I woke up yesterday and today, during a down moment at work, and while playing with myself.

  His hair fell forward, curtaining our faces. “Then we need to get something straight.” His tone was raspy and somewhat pained. “We leave our feelings at the door. Like you, I don’t want anything serious. My life is too fucked up for a long-term relationship. Deal?”

  “No feelings.” I was hornier than a dog in heat, so I would have said about anything at that moment. But I also knew he would change me in ways I’d never felt or experienced before. “Oh, and Dillon? Since we’re being open about things, I like my men raw and rough. So don’t be gentle.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle at how his face lit up as if it were Christmas morning and the biggest box under the tree had his name on it.

  In one fluid movement, he hauled me to my feet and over to the pinball machine that I’d barely noticed when I came in. He twirled me around then anchored himself against the monstrous toy. “Strip for me.”

  My belly did a loopty-loop at his command and another one when I eyed the massive bulge in his jeans.

  Stepping away from him, I watched him watch me. His expression was blank, but I knew something primal lived beneath his surface. His biceps flexed as he shoved his hands in his pockets as though he was going to play with himself.

  I was soaked to my core and getting wetter if that were possible as I took off my scarf. I’d never stripped for any man, but with Dillon, my inhibitions were gone, left at the door.

  I grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted the fabric slowly, my eyes glued to Dillon as his tongue toyed with his lip ring. I lifted my shirt over my head, lingering for one second and pushing out my breasts before I discarded the fabric.