Page 61 of Hart of Darkness
20
Dillon
Isat in my office, taking care of a few administrative items. Since Nadine’s funeral, frustration had ridden me hard for so many reasons. No matter how much I lifted weights or exercised to the point of exhaustion, I couldn’t relax or sleep.
Waiting for anything had never been my strong suit. I was waiting for Denim to call me. When Maggie and I had gotten to the prison last Friday, we’d learned that Denim was in solitary. He’d gotten into a brutal fight with an inmate, and they had both needed stitches. The guard hadn’t told us much more than that. I could only assume Denim had asked the wrong questions, which had rattled the cage of a Black Knight member. I was relieved that Denim hadn’t gotten himself killed.
The progress on finding Grace had come to a standstill. Maggie and I were on a friendship ride. My brother Duke was due back in town sometime today, and I couldn’t get Maggie out of my head.
I hadn’t seen her since we returned from the prison five days ago. She’d been busy at work, and I’d picked up some shifts at the shelter to give Rafe and Hunt a break. Sure, I could’ve asked her to meet me at my house after work, but I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off her.
The door to my office flew open. Norma panted, seemingly excited.
My heart did a little dance. “What’s wrong?”
“Angel is on the porch, talking to Norton.” She caught her breath. “You’re not going to believe it, but… he’s…”
I went to grab my gun in the top drawer as she held up her hand.
“No need to shoot anyone today.” She emphasized the last word as though I would need to use my gun at some point in the shelter’s existence.
I stormed out before she could say another word. Even if the man appeared calm and sweet, alcoholics didn’t change overnight.
The sun was high in the sky, and the air was still, as though Mother Nature had shut off the air vents. Angel sat in the swinging loveseat that Rafe had installed only days ago, while Norton rested against the porch rail, looking at his wife.
I wanted to scream at her since I’d warned her to be careful.
Her blue eyes shimmered. “It’s okay, Dillon. Norton isn’t drunk.”
From where I stood, which was as close as I’d been to him the night he’d stumbled toward me with a gun in his hand, I could see she was right. I’d checked with Manny every few days, not necessarily to see how Norton was doing, but more to find out if my old man had shown up or even called Manny. To my chagrin, that was a negative. A son could hope, though.
Norton held out his steady hand. “Dillon, I can’t thank you enough.”
I helped women in need, but never a man. The feeling, though, was the same—warmth, elation, and a sense of relief, knowing that I could affect someone’s life in a positive way.
I sized him up and down, mainly in awe of how he didn’t stink of booze. His hair wasn’t oily, his face was shaven, and he wore pressed clothes that appeared brand-new. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. Alcoholics had a steep hill to climb. But he had to start somewhere.
His handshake was firm, which was another good sign.
Angel sidled up to him. “I’m not going anywhere, Dillon.”
She must’ve been reading my mind. My nerves quieted, knowing she wasn’t jumping back into the fire.
“I’m staying at Manny’s for another two months,” Norton added. “I have a ways to go before I can say with certainty that I won’t touch alcohol again.”
I didn’t want to burst his bubble that being a recovering alcoholic was a lifetime commitment and that it would take more than two months.
“As long as you stick to the program, man,” I said. “You’re well on your way. But please do me a favor. Before you show up, call first. We have an eight hundred number. I can’t have you scaring my other guests. Angel, I’m not going to put demands on you, but if Norton shows up unannounced, I need you to get me or one of the staff members.” Norton could relapse and bring a gun with him next time like he had before. I couldn’t risk that, not only for Angel’s sake, but for anyone here or in the neighborhood.
“Agreed,” they both said.
They resumed their conversation while I went back inside. As soon as I crossed the threshold between the entryway and the common room, Maggie’s voice floated toward me.
My stomach got this weird feeling that I couldn’t describe, remembering our wild night of sex when we’d made all kinds of music together.
A hand grasped my arm. “Dillon,” Norma said. “Does your tummy feel like it’s spinning and flipping?” She tapped on my hand, which was resting on my abs.
I jolted out of my stupor. “No. Why would you ask me that?”
