Page 65 of Hart of Darkness
21
Maggie
Darkness crawled through the parking lot as Dillon and I wheeled in slowly behind the bikers rumbling in on their Harleys. One by one, each of the bikers parked in front of the stone facade that displayed a grand reopening sign above the entrance.
The ride over had mostly been in silence. We didn’t talk about the flirtatious moment in Dillon’s office or our steamy night of sex, or what Denim had shared with us. I didn’t know anyone named Dallas. Honestly, I’d been silently swearing like a sailor that Denim hadn’t dropped Cory’s name.
Dillon found a spot along a fence that backed up to a cluster of industrial buildings and cut the engine, keeping his attention straight ahead.
With the dashboard lights on, I could see his hardened jaw and pinched features. Whatever was on his mind couldn’t have been good.
He’d come close to a nervous breakdown at Skins and Needles the other day when he’d found out Grace had been alive six months ago. Even his father had seen Grace recently. Part of me believed that Grace might be into drugs and didn’t want her family to know she was an addict. Another part of me thought that she might be selling her body like Nadine had. Or she could have been afraid to contact Dillon for some reason, much like Nadine hadn’t wanted to go to the cops. Or worse, Grace could have been sold through sex trafficking.
I reached over the console and grasped his hand. “I got your back.”
He jerked his head at me and gave me a panty-dropping grin. “Good to know.” The diamond-studded nose ring sparkled when he twitched. “I’ve been thinking about what Denim said, and you need to watch your back. He’s right. If you go snooping around the Black Knights, you’re going to end up like Nadine. I know you can take care of yourself, but look what happened to Denim. That has to say something.”
Letting go of his hand, I lifted a shoulder. In my experience, all gangs were scary, some more than others. I didn’t want to follow in Nadine’s footsteps. But I also had a job to do. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll be careful.”
He drilled his eyes into me. “You’re already in harm’s way, baby. Remember where they found Nadine’s body.”
My tummy did a flip over how he called me baby, while acid settled in my throat. “She might’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time.” The shelter wasn’t exactly in an upscale neighborhood.
“Please don’t get cocky or let your guard down,” he said.
I gave him a two-finger salute. “Yes, sir.”
He cringed as he climbed out, mumbling the word stubborn.
I wouldn’t disagree. I grew up on my own. None of my foster parents had ever cared if I came home or not. So someone worrying about me was nice, but foreign. I still hadn’t gotten used to how Ted worried over me. Not only that, I didn’t listen to Ted most of the time. While I would do anything for Dillon in the bedroom, I wasn’t going to change who I was as a reporter.
With my messenger bag strapped to my body, I hurried out into the sticky night air. I couldn’t wait for the cool fall weather to arrive.
When I ponied up to Dillon, he immediately took hold of my hand. “Stay close.”
I scanned the area, wondering what he saw that gave him a reason to warn me or feel protective. Then again, a crowd full of rowdy bikers might be a problem waiting to happen.
Music pumped out as Dillon and I waltzed into a packed house. Men wearing short-sleeve T-shirts and leather vests chatted at tables and booths scattered about. Some sat at the bar, watching a baseball game on the large-screen TV, while others hung out around the pool table, which was located in the large alcove on the other side of the bar. Everyone was so absorbed in what they were doing that they didn’t give us a passing glance.
I didn’t know if it was the music that was loud or the voices that were trying to talk above the music. It didn’t help that the ceilings were high with fans hanging down from the beams every few feet or so.
I detected the light scent of fresh paint as we settled not far from the bar. If a fire had shut the bar down, I didn’t see any evidence of it.
I scrutinized the women, in particular their necks, to see if any of them had a hummingbird tattoo.
About six women lounged next to their men in the bar area. None of them were Grace unless she’d bleached her hair blond, and I would have guessed the age of these women to be about twenty-five, not twenty. Two other women sat on high stools in the poolroom, and like the women in the bar area, they didn’t appear younger than twenty.
Dillon’s hand stiffened in mine. I followed his line of sight to an average-sized girl with short brown hair. She had her back to us as she perused songs on the jukebox. Dillon darted toward the girl, when a biker with a huge gut stalked toward me, sizing me up as if I were his next meal.
Ew!
I suddenly realized my attire was completely out of place in a sea of black vests, chains, piercings, and longhaired men. The women weren’t any different in the wardrobe department. Even Dillon fit right in, sans the vest. Me, not so much. I stuck out like a red herring, but I didn’t really care. I liked my denim capris, Chucks, and my signature cotton T-shirt with a scarf. I thought for a minute about removing the scarf and showing off my scar, because in this club, I was right at home.
The biker, who had a scar on the side of his face, grinned, showing off his gold tooth. “Hey, darlin’, what brings you here?”
I giggled. “Is that your pick-up line?”
He puckered his lips then moved them back and forth as though he were sucking on a lemon. “You sure are a pretty one.” He reached for my scarf, but I swatted his hand away.
