Page 70 of Hart of Darkness
23
Maggie
Igaped at the ceiling fan in a guest bedroom at Dillon’s house, watching it spin around and around and around. It felt as if my brain were on that fan as it too spun around and around and around. When Dom had said Cory’s name, I’d literally almost peed in my thong. Misty had mentioned Cory’s name, but she hadn’t been one hundred percent sure of his involvement with the gang. Dom seemed sure.
I wondered if Ted knew the name Dallas. I would bet that was the reason Ted couldn’t connect Cory to anything.
I’d tried to force Dom to give me more information on Fi’s friend so I could question her. He wouldn’t budge, though. His sister, Fi, wouldn’t either. I respected them for maintaining the woman’s privacy. Yet I wanted to blast the hell out of the Black Knights. The more I uncovered about the gang, the more my revenge wasn’t only about Cory anymore. I wanted all men like Cory to pay for what they’d done to women.
From the bar to Dillon’s house, I’d been a zombie. Even when we walked in, I’d had no words. We were both dumbfounded for different reasons.
I climbed out of bed. I’d asked him if I could stay in his guest room. He hadn’t tried to coax me into his bed, and he hadn’t come onto me. Instead, he’d been a gentleman. After showing me where the bathroom and towels were located, he’d walked me to my room. A part of me had wanted him to ask me to stay with him.
But the main reason I’d wanted to stay at his house was the quiet. I wanted to think without the distraction of the engines, horns, and voices that filled the city streets outside my apartment window. I was failing in that department. I couldn’t quiet my mind.
I tiptoed out of my room, trying not to wake Dillon, who was sleeping one door down from the bathroom. Once inside, I splashed water on my face. The nightlight provided ample light for me to see that I was beginning to develop bags under my eyes. I really needed to stop working eighteen-hour days.
I patted my face with a towel, combed my fingers through my long blond hair, and rifled through how to prove Cory Calderon was the scum I knew he was.
I stared at myself in the mirror. “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, how do I get hardcore facts on Cory once and for all?” I whispered.
The first idea that came to mind was to share the news with Ted. He might’ve heard of the name Dallas and had evidence on Cory’s alias. I could also get Dom on record to confirm that Cory was involved with the Black Knights. But Dom wasn’t the actual witness. He only knew the name, and it wasn’t a strong enough fact that would stick, especially since Cory’s father had money to sue the paper if I didn’t have concrete facts like a description of Cory.
The other option swimming around in my head was to put myself out there as a prostitute. That would get me concrete evidence. Otherwise, I would be searching for years, and I didn’t want to wait forever. The problem I had, though, was that girls no longer walked a city corner, waiting for a john. The pimps now did all the bidding for the girls. They chose the customer. They chose the hotel. All a girl had to do was dress up pretty and wait in some sleazy hotel room or…
The proverbial light bulb came on. Nadine had been at a house, not a hotel room. I should start there. Maybe the gang was stupid enough to return to the house on Bleven and Third. Maybe I could find some clue as to where Miguel lived. Or maybe I could find out who owned the house and follow the money trail. I mentally slapped myself for not thinking about this long before now.
I ironed a hand down my wrinkled shirt. I hadn’t even undressed when I flopped on the bed an hour ago. Dillon and I had gotten back to his house around two a.m. No sooner had he shown me to my room than he disappeared in his.
I imagined he had his own war to fight after discovering that Grace was alive two weeks ago, according to Dom. I was beginning to believe that she didn’t want her family to know she was alive, which irked me if that were true. She had a brother who loved her, a family. Granted, the Hart clan was a dysfunctional bunch, but nonetheless, she had a family. The contents of the envelope Ted had given me with my mom’s address inside were beginning to weigh heavily on me. Everywhere I went seemed to remind me of family.
I quietly went back to the guest room and snatched my messenger bag. Then I pulled out a pen and paper and scribbled down a note for Dillon.
I’m sorry, but I have to find facts. I’ll call you later. XO, Maggie.
I folded the note as I slinked down the hallway then slipped it underneath his door. I was tempted to peek inside, but I didn’t trust myself not to crawl into bed with him.
My first stop was the house on Bleven and Third. At three in the morning, no one would see me.
I prowled down the stairs like a cat burglar, stopping on each one, praying it didn’t creak. When I reached the front door, I let out a soft sigh.
As soon as I pulled open the door, a screeching siren blared.
Wincing, I shouted all kinds of expletives in my head.
Damn alarm.
Dillon flew down the stairs in nothing but his underwear, with a gun drawn on me.
Out of habit, I lifted my hands, an act I’d been used to when the cops would break up a gang fight and bring me down to the police station.
“What the fuck, Maggie?” He lowered his gun, slammed the door, and ran down the hall to punch in the alarm code.
At that moment, I realized I hadn’t thought my plan through because my car was at the shelter and not at Dillon’s house.
Stupid me.
I dropped my bag on the floor and ambled into the kitchen, holding my ears.
