Page 101 of Hart of Vengeance
My nostrils flared as Mallory rushed to my side. “Come on. You don’t need to go to jail for that asshole.”
Duke was behind me. “Mallory’s right.” His voice was tender, causing me to falter.
“I’m staying right by Denim’s side.” I narrowed my eyes at the man I was helplessly in love with. “I’m not a weakling. Tito is going to confess, or I’m going to beat him senseless.”
Tito laughed like a madman.
The creepy guy said, “Boss, let’s get out of here.”
Denim trained the gun on Tito then Lou. “Neither of you are going anywhere until we finish our business. Now, Lou, I suggest you sit your ass back down.”
Lou obeyed like a good little soldier.
Denim swung his arm and aimed the gun at Tito. “Talk, or I will shoot, and you know I won’t miss.”
“Hart.” Tito’s bravado was gone, and in its place was the fear I’d seen on him earlier. “You’re not a killer.”
“But you are.” Denim had both arms outstretched, holding the gun like a trained cop. “Talk, motherfucker.”
“You’re not going to shoot me,” Tito retorted.
Before I took a breath, another loud boom rebounded around the club.
I flinched, my heart in overdrive.
Mallory let out a squeal, and Duke ushered her to the bar.
Tito shrieked as he stammered, clutching his knee. “Fucking bastard. I’m going to end you once and for all.”
Denim cocked his head, pointing the gun at Tito. “Not the words I want to hear. One more chance, or I will put a bullet in your skull.”
Oh my God!
Instantly, the cloud of rage in my head vanished. Maybe it was the blood soaking Tito’s jeans or the notion that Denim could go back to prison for good. Whatever was making me see clearly, I couldn’t let him go back to prison if he killed Tito.
I lightly placed my hand on Denim’s back. “Denim, we’re both not thinking straight.”
Denim inched closer to Tito. “Last chance.”
Tito raised his hands, wincing, sweat glistening on his face. “Okay. Put the gun down. I didn’t mean to kill Hector.” Defeat threaded through Tito’s words. “It was an accident. We got into an argument over a supplier, and he wouldn’t listen to me. The next thing I knew, I had his gun in my hands, and he was dead.”
Denim took another step closer to Tito. “Then what? You dumped the gun in my backpack?”
Tito nodded, pain etched on his ugly face.
“Say it,” Denim said through gritted teeth.
“I did,” Tito whispered. “I knew that was your backpack. I couldn’t let my family find out what I’d done. Hector was the prodigal son.”
Every ounce of air in my lungs escaped in a loud rushing sound, and I faltered. That cloud of rage was back, and before I could stop myself, I lunged at Tito, tackling him to the floor.
His back hit the ground with a thud as his hands went around my neck. “Savannah deserved to die,” Tito snarled.
I sank my teeth into his hand.
He cried out. “Bitch.”
Strong hands gripped my arms. “Angel,” Denim said.
