Page 67 of Hart of Darkness
22
Dillon
My hand went around Dom’s thick neck, while his compadres pulled guns on me. I’d left mine in my desk once again. I didn’t need to kill anyone. What I needed was to squeeze Dom for information because the fucker was lying. Body language was a beautiful giveaway, and rarely could one hide the truth from me unless I was naive, and I was far from being blinded. Gang life had taught me several things. One, always know my surroundings. I’d counted two exits and roughly fifty bikers of all shapes and sizes, not including the two waitresses and two bartenders. And I was one hundred percent certain that all the bikers had some type of weapon on them.
The girl who had piercings up and down her ears, and long-ass legs that disappeared underneath her frayed shorts flew off the stool and started to head toward the bar.
“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere,” Maggie growled behind me.
“Your girl is badass, man,” Dom squeaked out as his face reddened.
Another thing I’d learned in a gang was to trust that my brethren had my back. I trusted that Maggie could take care of herself like she’d been boasting about, and I had complete confidence in her that she did have my back.
“Craig, Bert,” Dom choked out. “Put your guns down.”
The short guy and the big guy had death glares on their scraggly faces, not acquiescing.
So I dug my fingers into Dom’s neck harder. “Guns don’t scare me. I don’t give a fuck if the entire bar has guns trained on me. I came here to find my sister, and I’m not leaving until I get answers.”
He knitted his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say so?” he barely got out.
Craig and Bert lowered their guns.
The women let out a collective sigh.
I slowly released him.
Dom rubbed his neck as he coughed. “Man, you got one hell of a grip.”
I stole a look over my shoulder at Maggie, who was lowering the knife in her hand. When she met my gaze, she gave me one of her ball-busting smiles. I breathed a little easier, knowing she could fend off attackers, although I should have known that anyway since she’d been in a gang, one that had a staunch and deadly leader who had taught her and his underlings how to fight and protect themselves. I was sure Ted had as well.
“So, Emily is your sister,” Dom said as more of a confirmation than a question.
My attention swiveled back to him. The girl who reminded me of Lizzie, with her black hair and gray eyes, threw her arms around Dom.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he cooed as he kissed her forehead. Then he tipped his head at the archway. “Everyone out.” His statement was directed at everyone but Maggie and me.
I found a stool and patted the one next to me as I eyed Maggie. She tucked her knife into her messenger bag as she sat next to me.
When his friends were gone, Dom pressed the palms of his hands against the edge of the pool table.
“Where is she?” I asked
“You do look like Emily,” Dom said. “It’s the eyes.”
“Spare me the small talk. And my sister’s name is Grace.” My voice was gruff, and my tone was rude. The shock that had ripped through my body when Syd told me about Grace, and then again when my old man said he’d seen her, was gone. In its place was pure rage that ate at the lining of my stomach like a parasite that was hungry and multiplying by the second. It was directed more at Grace than anyone.
Dom crossed his dirty denim-clad legs at the ankles. “I haven’t heard from Emily in two weeks.”
I vaulted off the stool. “Say that again.”
Dom hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I meant Grace.”
I pinned him with what I knew was a scowl that would win a spot in theGuinness Book of World Records.“No, asshole, you said two weeks. You saw my sister two weeks ago?” I’d heard him clearly. I just had to torture myself again and again until those parasites chomped on every organ in me.
“Dillon.” Maggie said my name as though she were my mother, scolding me for being rude, much like my mom had done when I’d smarted off to my old man.
“So you’re the one she looked up to, the one she trusted.” Dom delivered the words in an even tone.
