Hart of Darkness Page 8

  The silence between us grew as I fiddled with my scarf. I wanted to speak, to say anything to break the tension, but I had no words. Not to mention, Dillon was shirtless. Tattoos not only decorated both arms, but his chest had the Latin phrase alis grave nil inscribed across a red bird wing. Latin had kicked my butt in college. I’d only taken the course because I thought it would be cool to learn a language from ancient times. The only word that had made sense to me was grave, which meant serious in both Latin and English.

  Dillon dragged his gaze from my head down to my toes, which curled when he settled his eyes on my face. His hooded golden-brown eyes made me hold my breath as though we were standing toe to toe and his lips were a hair from mine.

  I got the feeling he wanted to throw me on the mat and devour me. Yet my intuition was telling me he was trying to understand my relationship with Kelton.

  “Kelton and I danced and drank, nothing more,” I said, feeling compelled to give an explanation. I didn’t have any lingering attraction to the Maxwell either. Sure, he was handsome, but not like the man in front of me.

  Dillon gave me a cheeky grin. “I heard your voice message.”

  The topic of Kelton became a faded memory as my cheeks turned tomato red upon realizing Dillon had heard my admission about his sexy voice.

  “Th-that.” My knees finally unlocked at the mere thought that I’d just stuttered. I never stuttered. I dropped down on the bottom step. “Busted.”

  He finally chuckled and stood up. His jeans rode low, showing that thin line of hair, or what I liked to call the happy trail. “Nadine is gone.”

  And just like that, any tension, sexual or otherwise, was history. “Wait. So the cops didn’t find her here?”

  He tilted his head, and his hair flopped to one side. “Why would they find her here? Did you say something to your cop friend?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I promised her I wouldn’t, and I didn’t. Anyway, I was talking to Ted when he got the call that they’d found the redhead. Honestly, I thought you might have called them or that someone in the shelter did.” I might as well lay my cards on the table too. After all, we both assumed the other had blabbed on Nadine.

  He puffed out his cheeks. “No one here alerted the police. She took off early this morning. Nadine told one of my guests that she wasn’t safe here and that she didn’t want to put anyone in danger.”

  I gulped down a ball of fear as I clutched my stomach.

  A muscle ticked in Dillon’s jaw. “Is she alive?”

  I squeezed my eyes closed for a second. God, I prayed she was. “When Ted got the call, he took off so fast, I didn’t get a chance to ask him anything.” It hadn’t helped that my tongue wouldn’t work.

  Dillon brought his rough hands up to his mouth in prayer formation then began wearing a hole in the cement floor in a narrow spot off the matted area near me. “I shouldn’t have left the shelter early this morning.”

  I pushed to my feet and grabbed his arm. “Stop. You’re making me dizzy, and you can’t blame yourself.” I should’ve stayed at the shelter last night and kept Nadine company. She’d been alone and scared.

  He looked at my hand then met my eyes. All thoughts of Nadine were slowly dissipating as my heart fluttered. Then Dillon’s large palm was on my face.

  Pitter-patter, pitter-patter went my heart.

  I swore if his hungry gaze weren’t preoccupied with my lips, he probably would have seen my heart pumping out of my chest.

  I dragged a hand up the arm that had Grace inked on it.

  He didn’t flinch. Instead, he traced my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. I’d never had anyone treat me so tenderly, as if I were a rare gem. The heat in the room rose and continued to rise the more his whiskey gaze roamed over my face, wild and free.

  Oh, what I wouldn’t give to run through fields of daisies with Dillon chasing me. Not to have a care in the world. Not to have revenge simmering in my blood. And not to have any memories of my childhood. I could stop my crusade to put Cory away. I could lose my memories by thinking of the future. But I had one problem.

  I slid my hand under my scarf and fingered my scar. I would always have the memory of what Cory had done to me.

  I choked back tears, when I wanted nothing more at that moment than for Dillon to kiss me and take away the memory of what I’d been through.

  Touch me. Tempt me. Kiss me. Feel me. Those statements played like soft lyrics in my head.

  Dillon lowered his hand until he was untying my scarf. “Maggie.” My name on his lips was like discovering chocolate for the first time—sweet and addicting. He had rendered me powerless to do anything but bat my eyelashes.

  His pinky finger danced over the sliver of scar that was poking out from the collar of the dirty shirt I’d pulled out of the laundry that day. Luckily, the shirt had only been worn once.

  While he continued to feel along the scar, causing goose bumps to erupt along my arms, I mentally took pictures of his body. I wanted to remember every rugged edge. The man was an art specimen, with the Chinese symbol below Grace’s name, the red wing on his chest, and a host of other symbols and Latin sayings. I swore he should be on display in some art studio where guests could admire him.

  I scrubbed a hand over his pecs. “I think I might have a lead on Grace.”

  He jumped back as if I’d set him on fire. Turmoil, shock, and excitement washed over him. He found the cabinet that Kelton had been leaning against and used it to support himself as he shoved a hand through his tousled hair.

  Stupid me had to go and talk.

  He gave me flutters, sweaty palms, and tingles, weird feelings I’d never experienced with another man before. I wanted more of those wistful, steal-the-moment feelings that caused heat to blanket my body and made me feel as if I were the only woman in his world.

  Sadly, I wasn’t. His sister took that spot, and rightfully so, which was why my mouth was slightly ajar at how he wasn’t probing me more for information on the bomb I’d dropped at his nice, bare feet. They were big, but clean and manicured.

  I clapped my hands. “Dillon? Did you hear what I said?”

  He flinched. “Loud and clear.”

  I ambled closer to him until I could reach out and touch him, but I didn’t dare. We had business to take care of, and if I did touch him again, I wouldn’t stop until we were tangled together.

  I held on to the strap of my messenger bag. “Talk to me.”

  He stretched out one muscled arm and hooked a finger around the belt loop of my cotton slacks. “Why are you making me crazy?”

  I giggled. I would like to have known that answer too. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since we’d reconnected after all these years, yet it felt like yesterday that we’d faced off in a fight that had ended in bloodshed. Not my bloodshed, but that of the boy who had dared to touch his sister.

  I wanted to stay rooted to Dillon, but my musical ringtone, indicating that Bruce was calling, made me step back and dig into my bag. Dillon pushed off the wall and grabbed his shirt.

  “What’s up, boss?” I asked.

  “Are you still down at the precinct?” Bruce sounded as if the story of the century was about to break.

  “No. I’m following another lead.” One that has nothing to do with the Black Knights. Or maybe it did. A girl could hope.

  “The news is reporting that the cops found the body of a girl who they suspected was part of the standoff last night.”

  “Who? What does she look like? Do they have a name?” My entire being knew it was Nadine. Ted had even asked his caller if it was the redhead. Granted, I hadn’t heard if it was or not.

  When Dillon finished putting on his shirt, he angled his head at me.

  “Sorry,” Bruce said. “Don’t know more than that. See what you can find out. This could be the opening you need for a story, maybe one on the Black Knights.” Then he hung up.

  I could rush down to the scene, wherever that was, or contact Ted. But since the news was just bre
aking, the information and evidence wouldn’t be available yet. Tears burned my eyes as I tapped on my phone and searched the Internet for the news that Bruce had mentioned.

  Dillon closed the distance between us then tipped up my chin with the touch of his finger. “It’s Nadine. She’s dead. Isn’t she?”

  I couldn’t help but bawl my eyes out. “I think so. I should’ve stayed with her last night.”

  Dillon wrapped me into his hard, warm body, rubbing my back. “It’s not your fault. She was under my protection. I should’ve done everything I could to prevent her from leaving the shelter.”

  We stood in each other’s arms. The only sound was me sniffling into his T-shirt. I wanted to stay glued to him, but he eased away then kissed me on the forehead. “Let’s find out for sure if the body they found is in fact Nadine’s.”

  I wiped tears away as I resumed searching the Internet. The headline came up, so I read it out loud in between sniffles. “Police found the dead body of a young girl they suspect to be part of a standoff last night.” Deidre was the author on the story. She had to have someone in the police department feeding her information. That alone made me want to scream. “Sounds like Nadine. She was the only girl that I knew was there, although Ted’s team was itching to show him something inside the house. Nadine didn’t mention any other girls.” Of course, I hadn’t asked. I’d been so determined to find out if her captors were part of the Black Knights.

  Revenge will blind you. Ted’s words blared in my head.

  I fired off a text to Ted, asking him about the headline and what the girl looked like. When I finished, I focused on Dillon. His eyes were somewhat glossy. He seemed to be somewhere far away.

  It was my turn to wrap my arms around him. He didn’t stiffen, nor did he back away. He let me hold him, and whether it was because of Nadine, Grace, or our past, the man was stealing my damn heart.

  At that moment, I grew a little closer to Dillon.

  He cleared his throat. “So, you said you had a lead on Grace?”

  We untangled from each other.

  “When I showed Ted Grace’s picture, he was reminded of a girl he’d seen in a tattoo shop last year. We should check it out.” I was there more about Nadine, and I did have a story to write, although Grace could be a story too.

  “Don’t you have work to do?” Dillon asked.

  “I am working. I’m following a lead.”

  “Then I’ll drive,” Dillon said with renewed excitement.

  I couldn’t help but feed off him.

  11

  Dillon

  The woman sitting next to me in the passenger’s seat was driving me batshit crazy, both emotionally and physically. Sure, my sister was front and center, and my heart broke for Nadine. But Maggie seemed to be overpowering what was most important to me—Grace. When Maggie had unloaded that she had a lead on Grace, my knees had locked as if she’d put a spell on me.

  I’d never been so drawn to a woman before in my life. Her light, soapy scent fogged my brain, even more so when she’d been in my arms. Man, the way her cotton slacks hugged her curves sent waves of heat straight to my groin. And her hair—her hair was braided, the tail falling down to the middle of her back, and all I wanted to do was wrap my hand around it while I did things to her I never thought I would do to any woman. Maggie gave me the vibe that she liked her men raw and rough, and that made my dick hard.

  When I’d run my finger over her bottom lip, I’d stopped the shudder that was primed to rack my body. More than that, I’d been close to throwing her to the mat in the weight room. I would’ve done it if she hadn’t broken down in tears.

  Flicking the blinker, I made a right onto Harrison Avenue. When I did, my blood gelled.

  My foot hovered over the brake, tapping it now and again to slow the car. Familiar storefronts with apartments above them, graffitied walls, and run-down buildings decorated the street. My head swiveled sluggishly before the boarded-up apartment building on the corner sent me back to the past.

  A horn blared behind me.

  Maggie slapped my arm. “Snap to.”

  The only thing I was about to snap was my steering wheel. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that Detective Hughes had seen a female who resembled Grace in a tattoo shop on Harrison Avenue. I didn’t believe in coincidences.

  My heart beat like the little drummer boy.

  If the girl Ted had seen was Grace, that meant Grace was alive a year ago.

  My heart was ramming against my ribs. But why hadn’t she contacted my brothers or me? You left her. Maybe she doesn’t want to see you. I refused to believe that my own sister would disown me as though I were someone she hated. Maybe she thought I was still at sea with the merchant marines. It had been hard to communicate with anyone back home when I was on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

  My gut twisted.

  My head hurt.

  My heart was on a collision course with a sharp object. At least I felt as though the dull pain in my heart was intensifying, particularly if Grace didn’t want anything to do with me.

  “Did you hear what I said? Skins and Needles is one block up, on the right.” Maggie pointed out the windshield.

  I grunted for no other reason than not to scream at the top of my lungs. Confusion, anger, and excitement had a way of tangling together to the point that I was almost seeing stars.

  I pulled into a spot in front of a cigar shop.

  Maggie gripped my arm. “You're pale.”

  I released an audible sigh. “I’ve walked this street up and down for hours, watching that apartment.” I stabbed a finger at a run-down building next to the one that had graffiti painted on the foundation. “When she first left home—ran away, disappeared, who the fuck knows—a friend of hers told me she hung out with a boy who lived there.”

  Maggie’s green eyes glistened as she opened them wide.

  “It was a dead end. The last time the boy saw Grace was a week before I knocked on his door when she first went missing.” It was more than a dead end now that the building was abandoned.

  I climbed out, careful not to swing open my door too wide with the oncoming traffic. The hot August sun was sliding down behind the row of buildings across the street. A handful of pedestrians walked in and out of stores.

  I joined Maggie on the sidewalk outside the cigar shop.

  She hooked her arm in mine. “You’re still pale. I think you need my help.”

  What she deemed help differed from my definition. I might have been in shock at the moment, but I wasn’t immune to her female scents or charms. The woman had some magic juice in her that made me want to fall on my knees and kiss her feet.

  Fuck, man. Get your head out of your ass and stop thinking about your dick.

  I chuckled at myself.

  “Something funny,” she asked as we strolled like two lovers in a park.

  “I’m not eighty.”

  She giggled. “It seems you’ve been off since I showed up at the shelter.”

  Maybe if I wasn’t still processing you and Kelton dancing, which meant groping each other, then I might have a clear head. Or maybe I could think if I didn’t feel responsible for Nadine, or you weren’t driving me mad with the urge to fuck your brains out.

  I gently unhooked her hand from my arm.

  She frowned.

  “Business before pleasure.” I tipped my head at the Skins and Needles sign as I opened the door for her.

  The bell dinged.

  Shrugging, she sashayed in with a smile. “I like working with you.”

  And I want to see you writhing underneath me as we roll around on the matted floor, naked, sweaty, and enjoying the heck out of each other.

  Following her inside to an empty shop, I mentally slapped myself and kept slapping myself as I ogled her ass.

  The light aroma of cigars trickled up my nose, probably from the shop next door. The buzz of the tattoo machine filtered in from behind the curtained-off room directly ahead of us.

&
nbsp; Maggie planted her hands on the glass-enclosed counter that had sketches of colorful artwork displayed inside, much like a jewelry case. She glanced down while I moseyed over to the loveseat near the curtain. Above the loveseat hung the business owner’s license. Syd Wells was the name on the fancy paper.

  “Hello,” I said to no one.

  “They’re probably busy,” Maggie added, checking out sketches as though she were deciding which tattoo she wanted. “I’m sure they heard the bell.”

  “I’ll be right out,” a male voice said.

  I sauntered over to Maggie. “Which one do you want?” I wondered if she was sporting any tats underneath her clothes.

  Her head came up. “Oh, hell no. I hate needles.” She touched her neck.

  I imagined that Cory was the reason she didn’t like sharp objects. I didn’t get a chance to ponder or speculate before a large man with scraggly blond hair emerged.

  He wiped his hands on a towel. “How can I help?”

  “Are you Syd?” I asked.

  His beady hazel eyes shifted back and forth between us. “Who’s asking? Are you two cops?”

  “I get that a lot,” Maggie said. “No.”

  I snatched my wallet and produced Grace’s photo. “I’m looking for my sister, Grace Hart. We have reason to believe someone in this shop did some artwork on her. Have you seen her?”

  Lowering his shoulders, Syd studied the photo while he scrubbed his dirty nails down his jaw. “That mark on her neck.” His head bobbed. “Her name isn't Grace. She goes by Emily.”

  I swore an eighteen-wheeler came out of nowhere and smashed into me. I listed to one side.

  Maggie’s hands were on me. “Easy, big guy.”

  Syd threw his towel on the counter along with Grace’s photo. “Take him to the couch.”

  Maggie guided me to the dilapidated couch, while Syd rummaged around in a cabinet near the curtain.