Page 43 of Hart of Vengeance
My record could be cleared if I found out who murdered Hector. “I want that in writing, and send it over to my lawyer, Kelton Maxwell.” I wasn’t doing anything until I knew for certain the FBI wasn’t jerking my chain. Even then I wasn’t sure I would give them anything on my brother.
The van came to a stop.
Travers laughed. “Smart man.” Then he cemented his jaw. “I’ll get you our offer on paper, but Hart, if you fuck with me, your ass will be back in prison so fucking fast, you won’t know what year it is. Are we clear?”
I would rather kill myself than spend more time with true murderers. But I wouldn’t let him see me sweat over that. Besides, I wasn’t doing a damn thing for him until he came through.
“Crystal,” I said.
“Good.” Travers sat back. “Maybe after all this is done, you can marry that girl you were drooling over in the hospital.”
My eyebrows flew to my hairline. “You had a man watching me inside. He wouldn’t happen to be wearing a red ball cap?”
Travers deadpanned. “A woman.” He flashed the light in my eyes. “You look disappointed.”
Confused was more like it, and suddenly I felt the need to get back to the hospital to make sure Jade was okay. “I need to check on my girl.”
“She’s fine,” Travers said. “Our agent is watching.”
I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with the Feds keeping an eye on Jade. But maybe the dude in the red ball cap spotted the female agent, and that was the reason he’d bolted.
“Can I go then?” My nausea was still front and center.
He nodded. “Remember, Hart. You’re mine, and I can make you wish you were back inside rather than being a free man.” The seriousness in his tone kick-started the nausea that had waned.
Suddenly, I was wishing I was back in my bunk because I had a feeling that what lay ahead was not going to be sunshine and roses.
14
Jade
Ichewed on not one nail, but all of them on my left hand, as I stared at Savannah through blurry, tear-filled eyes. She was in ICU, fighting for her life. I hadn’t talked to the doctor yet, but I didn’t need to.
Her face was bloodied, bruised, and swollen. Her head was wrapped in a bandage, and another bandage was wound around her neck. Her hands had cuts on them. She wasn’t moving, and if it weren’t for the breathing machine, she wouldn’t be alive.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to get my heart to slow its pace. “God, if you’re listening, please hear me. Please watch over Savannah. I know she has a lot of sins to repent, but she didn’t deserve to be beaten to a pulp.”
I blew out a breath, rubbing the back of my neck as I began pacing behind the curtained room.One step up, one step back. Repeat.
Despite our differences, Savannah couldn’t die. She was my baby sister. As much as I wanted to shake some sense into her, I couldn’t bear to see her like this.
The swooshing sound of the breathing machine hurt my ears and stabbed my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut, and tears spilled out as my body began to shake.
Thank God my parents weren’t there to see Savannah. Mom would collapse if she saw her baby girl in such a state. Dad would too, but he wouldn’t show his emotions. He had always been the strong one in the family.
I half-smiled, hoping that Savannah took after him now and that she would have the spunk and fight to survive.
It was a good thing the roles weren’t reversed. I was so much like my mother, wearing my emotions on my sleeve just like she had. If I’d walked in Savannah’s shoes, I would’ve been dead a long time ago.
I paced three steps instead of one, and then four in the other direction, counting to myself while clenching my fists, biting my nails, crying, and feeling so fucking helpless.How could something like this happen?I wasn’t naive enough to believe that prisons were the best place to live.But for Pete’s sake, where were the guards, the warden, or anyone when this happened?
The first chance I had, I would pay the warden a visit. That much was certain. I wanted answers. I wanted justice. And I wanted vengeance. I wanted to strangle the woman who had done this to Savannah.
Who am I kidding?I wasn’t a fighter. I couldn’t throw a punch and never had. Yet as I continued to pace and freak out, guilt sat heavy in my stomach, burning like the inferno I’d witnessed that fateful night. Acid shot to my throat, and I swallowed down that latte I’d had earlier.
I should’ve gone to Duke. If I had, Savannah wouldn’t be hanging on by a thread. If I’d borrowed money from Mallory, Savannah wouldn’t be there.
Stop torturing yourself.
