My phone continued to buzz.
She stuck out her bottom lip. “I want you inside me.”
If I fucked her, I would be late, and I didn’t want to piss off Travers. I needed his help if I wanted to clear my name.
My phone stopped vibrating.
Jade batted her long lashes, her big green orbs eating me up. “See? Now come back to bed.”
My phone pinged with a text.
Travers: You’re late.
I checked the time. I wasn’t late. We were meeting at eleven, and it was only nine thirty.
Me: We agreed eleven.
Travers: I left you a voice mail last night, changing the time.
Me: Sorry. I’m just seeing a voice mail now.
Travers: Can you be here in thirty?
Me: On my way.
Travers had picked a hole-in-the-wall breakfast joint four blocks from Duke’s place, so I had no problem getting there in time.
“I’m meeting Travers,” I said to Jade. “Rain check?”
Her phone rang, and she scrunched her pretty nose. “Sure. I guess someone is trying to tell us something.” She collected her phone from her nightstand.
I kissed her quickly before bolting into the bathroom. Within ten minutes, I was showered and dressed.
I found Jade in the kitchen, making coffee. I wrapped one arm around her from behind, and with the other, I moved her long hair to the side. “I’ll call you later.” I peppered kisses on her neck.
She leaned into me. “No rush. Mallory is on her way. She’s going to work from here and keep me company.”
I didn’t know what time I would be back, but I was glad Mallory would be there with her.
After one long, tongue-twisting kiss, I said, “Don’t go out, please. Until I can get Tito off our backs, I don’t trust him.”
She turned in my arms and tucked my wet hair behind my ear. “Is that why you’re meeting with Agent Travers? Do you guys have a plan?” She sounded relaxed, happy, and content.
I brushed her nose with mine, inhaling her. She was sweet, and she was all mine. “We do.” Or I did. I wasn’t sure yet if Travers would jump on board or not. “I love you.”
She tensed.
I edged back, studying her. That smile she’d had a moment ago was gone, and in its place was pure fear. “What’s wrong?” I’d expected her to shower me with kisses when I told her I loved her, not freak out.
“That tone in your voice.” She shuddered. “That’s the same tone you used when you broke up with me. I love you, but…” She looked away.
With my fingers on her chin, I gently guided her to look at me. “Hey, never again. What you’re hearing in my tone is concern and hope that we can take Tito down once and for all.” I cupped her face with both of my hands.
Her eyes were wide, intense, and insanely green. “I’m serious, Denim Hart. I will hunt you down this time and kill you.” Her tone was rock-hard. “My heart can’t take losing you again.”
I understood her trepidation. I understood we were diving in too fast. But I didn’t want to waste another minute, day, or year without her. I’d been a fuckup at eighteen, and I would like to think that I’d matured and reformed, even though I hadn’t killed anyone. Prison had taught me maturity and had given me ample time to dissect my wants and needs, and I needed Jade like I needed water to survive.
“I understand it will take time for you to trust me again, to trust that I won’t walk away. I know words are just words, but I’ll show you.” I started by pressing a kiss to her jawline, her chin, her nose, her ears, and even that sensitive spot behind her ear. I repeated those steps until she became putty in my arms. Then I nipped at her bottom lip, tugging with my teeth. If we kept going, I would miss my meeting with Travers, but I needed to show her I was serious.
She smiled. “You should go before I strip you naked.”
“Baby doll, I do love you.”
“I know,” she said. “Now go before the FBI shows up here and arrests you.”
After one last quick kiss, I headed out.
Travers was sitting in a booth when I walked into the restaurant fifteen minutes later. As usual, he was dressed in a suit and shiny loafers, with his hair slicked back.
I slid into the seat across from him. “Where’s your partner?” I hadn’t seen Brock since I’d met him in prison.
He deadpanned. “We’re not here to talk like buddies, and I don’t have time. What do you have for me?”
The waitress sashayed up, blowing strands of her brown hair out of her eyes. “What are you having?” She poised a pen over her pad, ready to take my order.
“Coffee. Nothing else,” I said. When she glided to the next table, I regarded Travers. “I’m meeting with Tito Alvarez later. I want you to wire me up.”
He reared back. “You’re mighty zealous.”
“I believe he murdered his own brother, and I’m going to get him to talk.”
Travers held up a hand. “You’re going to get him to talk about a gun shipment, not a murder. Right? I’m FBI. A local murder isn’t my jurisdiction. Talk to the Boston PD.”
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew he couldn’t arrest Tito for a local murder. “I’ll get you a time and place of a gun shipment. But I need to have his confession of the murder on tape legally. And do you really want the local cops in on this?”
I could seek out the cop who’d arrested me. Dillon knew Officer Ted Hughes well. Apparently, Ted was like a father to Maggie. I tucked that tidbit in my back pocket and made a mental note to text Dillon. I had to cover all my bases in the event the Feds wouldn’t play.
My goal was to clear my name, and with my newfound information that Tito could’ve murdered his brother, I didn’t need the neighbor as a witness.
If Tito doesn’t talk, you might. I would cross that bridge when I got to it.
Killing two birds with one FBI agent would be cleaner and easier than bringing in more cops. We could satisfy Travers, and I could finally see the real murderer go to prison.
“Let’s not forget you’re acting as my parole officer,” I continued. “Aren’t you supposed to help me?” The main role of a parole officer was to help ex-cons with things like finding a job and a place to live. They were even supposed to help the person deal with old problems, and Tito was an old problem.
His expression was far from pleased. “Who will be at this meeting?”
I knew he was salivating to hear Duke’s name. “Myself, Duke, Tito Alvarez, and one of his guys.” When I’d called Tito the day before, we had agreed to keep the meeting small.
Travers perked up. “Duke, huh? I’m surprised, Hart. You mean I might get Duke after all?”
I shrugged. It was possible. But our meeting was to discuss guns, and that alone wouldn’t put Tito or Duke behind bars. However, I wasn’t about to piss off Travers by goading him. He would learn soon enough that Duke wouldn’t be present when the guns came in.
“I just want to be clear about something,” I said. “The written agreement you’d sent to my lawyer stated that I needed to give you a time and place of a gun shipment. If I do, my record will be cleared. Is that accurate?” When I’d stopped by Kelton’s office the previous day, I’d read the formal agreement a few times to make sure I understood what was expected of me. Then Kelton had explained that as long as Tito delivered the time and place, then I was in the clear. The letter didn’t call out any names in particular either.
Travers sat back. “That’s correct. Are you confident Tito will give you that info?”
Not at all. “Honestly, I’m not sure.” If I could at least get Tito to confess to the murder, then I wouldn’t need the Feds holding their terms over my head. “Are you in to wire me up or not?”
“This is your one shot,” he said. “But you better get me that info.”
I shook my head. He was a Class A dick, still making idle threats. “I’m trying here, Travers.” The fucker had to see that. “I want you off my back. I want to go home and make love
to my girl. I want to find a job. And above all else, I want my friends and family to know I didn’t kill anyone.” The people in my life already knew that, but still, having a clean record was more important to me than guns and drugs.
28
Jade
After Denim left, I made myself busy in the kitchen, trying to keep my mind off our conversation. I knew he loved me, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t walk away again. Doubt was my worst enemy, and I knew his actions would speak louder than his words. His actions the last couple of days had been nothing short of a boy who was in love with a girl.
I shrugged off the niggle of doubt, and as I prepared a mug of coffee, I replayed the night before over and over and over in my head. His lips had been sinfully inciting, his tongue masterfully pleasing, and his dick huge and gratifying. I’d wanted to go for round two, but he’d declined. I had almost pouted, but I understood he’d wanted to let me rest. I had a feeling he was hurting from all his cuts and bruises too.
In addition to the great sex, if anything could erase my uncertainty, it was how Denim and I connected. It was as though we’d never broken up. We had talked about high school, when we’d first met, and the good times we’d had. He’d asked me about my life, and I’d asked him about prison. He’d held me the entire night, and I doubted he’d gotten any sleep because every time I’d moved or turned over, he was caressing my arms or kissing my head.
Sighing, I brought the mug up to my mouth, and another shiver racked my body as my stomach growled. I realized I hadn’t eaten much in days.
I set my coffee down on the counter and rummaged through the cabinets. Then I remembered that Duke had no food in the house. I was in the mood for a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and even pancakes. I’d barely touched any of the hospital food they’d given me.
I could dash out and pick up some groceries. But on second thought, Mallory was due there in an hour. She could stop by the coffee shop near our office. I would settle for an egg-and-bacon sandwich or even one of their fresh bagels.
I collected my phone from the counter and sent her a text to ask if she would bring food.
Mallory: For sure.
Then with the coffee mug in my hand, I set out to explore more of Duke’s abode. My bare feet slapped on the hardwood as I traveled down the wide hall to the other five rooms aside from the one I was staying in.
But as I tried to open each door, I found the first two locked. The third door was a guest bathroom. The fourth door was also locked. I was about to give up and return to the kitchen when I noticed the last door at the end of the hall was ajar, something I hadn’t noticed when I’d arrived the night before. However, as tired as I’d been, I hadn’t noticed much.
With my curiosity piqued, I pushed in the door, slowly and tentatively. I didn’t think Duke was home. Denim had told me Duke would be staying at his club, The Monarch.
I poked in my head. “Hello,” I called out.
No one answered.
I trudged into the black-and-red room, complete with a king-size bed, large-screen TV hanging on one wall, a dresser, a couch, and a doorway to an en suite bathroom.
“Duke,” I said again as I wound my way into the bathroom.
He wasn’t there. I even stuck my head into his walk-in closet and was met with a room bigger than the one I was sleeping in.
Suits galore hung on one side. Shoe racks adorned one wall. Drawers and two dressers took up another wall. I seriously could live in this closet. He even had a comfy chair nestled into the corner.
I walked around, inspecting his suits as I traveled through the large closet. I stopped at one dresser, set my coffee down, and peeked in the top drawer. A gun and two clips sat next to a handful of watches. I closed the drawer and moved on. I had no need for a gun and wasn’t surprised Duke had one either. I glanced around, and when my gaze landed on the other dresser, I sucked in a sharp breath.
I hurried over and picked up the picture.
Savannah and Duke were sitting by a pool with the ocean in the background, and both were smiling. They looked happy and in love. It was odd to see his straight white teeth or a happy glint in his light-brown eyes. He looked relaxed and warm, nothing like the coldhearted man I knew. What had my eyebrows flying up was the way he was holding Savannah like she was his everything.
I stared at my beautiful sister. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, her skin was sun-kissed, and she was wearing her quirky smile.
I fumbled to figure out what had gone wrong between Savannah and Duke. My sister wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but Duke’s outer exterior said he wasn’t either. Maybe they’d been made for each other.
I briefly closed my eyes, staving off the need to cry. My sister would never get the chance to fall in love again.
I didn’t hear Mallory until her voice made me jump.
“Snooping isn’t your scene,” she said somewhere behind me. Then she whistled. “What a freaking closet.”
I placed the picture back in its spot, dashed away a lone tear that had escaped, and turned around. “I think I had Duke all wrong.” I uttered those words more to myself than Mallory as I collected my coffee cup.
But true to Mallory’s form, and her opinion of Duke, she said, “Nonsense. You’re sounding like Cara now.”
I pressed my stomach against the edge of the center island that traveled down the length of the closet to where Mallory was fingering Duke’s suits. “How is she?”
She set big blue eyes on me. “How are you?”
“Don’t deflect, and I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Her gaze drifted past me. “Is that Duke and Savannah?” Her long legs ate up the space between us. Then she studied the picture, whistling again. “One picture doesn’t tell the truth.”
As much as I despised Duke, I had to believe he had some emotional structure beneath his critical coldness. After all, he was a Hart, and Dillon and Denim were nothing like their older brother.
“Maybe not,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.” With my luck, Duke would walk in, and he didn’t need to know we’d been snooping.
Mallory and I padded down the hall to the kitchen and settled at the island. I dove into the egg sandwich she’d brought me.
She made herself at home and got coffee. Then she produced two laptops from her bag. “Here. I know you’re on leave, but in case you get bored, you can check emails at least.”
It wouldn’t hurt to do some work. That way, I could keep my mind off Denim, Savannah, and getting shot.
In between bites, I asked, “Are you going to answer my question about Cara?”
She opened her laptop then twisted her auburn hair up on the top of her head before securing it with a clip. “Cara is in London with my folks. She’s still upset, but maybe she’ll meet someone better while in London.”
Mallory’s dad traveled the world as a sales manager for a company that rented generators used to power the Super Bowl and other sporting events like the PGA. Her mom often accompanied him on his business travels.
“So how is Denim? And where is he? I was sure you two would be between the sheets.” She waggled her pretty eyebrows.
I blushed. “I wanted him to stay in bed with me, but he had a meeting with the FBI.”
“Mm. You sure he isn’t meeting with Tito Alvarez?”
I cocked my head, chewing the delicious egg-and-bacon sandwich. “He didn’t mention it. Should I be worried?”
She lifted her dainty shoulders as her fingers flew over the keys. “Not sure. But I did overhear him talking to Kelton yesterday about some meeting with Tito today.”
“Today?” I asked through a mouthful of food, tensing.
“Kelton advised Denim of the legal way he could take down Tito. I wouldn’t worry.”
That was easier said than done. The last thing I wanted was to lose Denim when I’d just gotten him back. But Denim was working with the FBI. Surely they would keep him safe. Unless Denim lied and was meet
ing with Tito rather than Agent Travers.
Don’t get upset. He’s trying to protect you.
Mallory pulled out an envelope. “Oh, this was delivered to the office via courier this morning.”
I examined the envelope that had my name and office address on it. I wasn’t sure who would know where I worked other than my immediate friends. Or maybe the contents had something to do with one of Kelton’s cases until I saw personal and confidential printed on the envelope.
“Well,” Mallory said. “Open it.”
So I did. Inside was a sheet of paper with words typed on it and another envelope addressed to me from Savannah. My brain froze as a chill tiptoed up my spine.
“What is it?” Mallory asked.
I gulped down a mouthful of air. “It’s from Savannah.”
Mallory’s eyes bugged out. “For real?”
I held my breath. Savannah had never written me a letter from prison. Savannah had never written, period. I’d been the one to keep a diary as a teenager.
She’d teased me about it many times. “Why would you spill your guts on paper? What if someone found it who you didn’t want reading it?”
“No one ever will,” I’d replied. I’d kept my diary in a shoebox hidden in my bedroom. My parents had never been the type to snoop, and neither had Savannah.
I read the letter that accompanied Savannah’s first.
Dear Ms. Kelly, my name is Ellie Rogers, and I was a friend of Savannah’s. She wanted me to give you this envelope if anything ever happened to her. I stopped by the address she’d given me a couple of times, but you weren’t home. Your kind neighbor, who I begged by the way, mentioned you worked for Davenport Law Firm. Anyway, I’m so sorry for your loss. I adored Savannah. If you get a chance, please let me know if you are having a funeral service for her. I would love to be there. Kind regards, Ellie.
She went on to leave her address and phone number at the bottom.
I looked at Savannah’s envelope then at Mallory. “I’m not sure I can open it.”
“You got this, girl. I’m right here too. Can I see that one while you read Savannah’s?”
Hart of Vengeance: The Hart Series Page 21