Page 48 of Hart of Vengeance
His eyebrows pinched, a deep crease forming. “Jade? You’re seeing her again?”
I wasn’t there to discuss my nonexistent love life, even though the mention of Jade seemed to perk him up. “She tells me Savannah wanted her to beg you for money for protection inside.”
“What hospital is she in?” he asked in a tone that permitted no argument.
“Why do you care? Didn’t you and Savannah break up?” Or maybe he was referring to Jade. Surely they weren’t an item. Jade hated Duke. Then again, maybe Jade knew how to lie better than she used to. Maybe she was secretly dating Duke, and the only reason she was working for Kelton was to get information on me. Maybe Jade had told Duke about the Feds.
He snagged his phone off the coffee table. “Tell me now.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.
He cared. The coldhearted Hart brother cared. Whether it was for Savannah or Jade, I’d gotten a reaction from him.
“Not until you give me answers,” I said.
He let out a dark laugh. “Are you serious?”
He could probably find out what hospital Savannah was in, but I had the urge to fuck with him. “Is your hard-on for Jade?” I was being a class A dick. Again, I couldn’t give two fucks.
He belted out a laugh. “Jealousy never looked good on you, brother.”
Are we brothers?It felt as though we were enemies.
“I know you had it bad for Jade. You probably still do.” I’d seen how he’d looked at her when she and I had dated. He didn’t have to tell me he wanted to fuck her. “So let’s not talk about jealousy.”
“Why do you even give a fuck? You left her ass behind in high school.”
I clenched my teeth. “Are you saying you slept with her?” Maybe he dumped Jade too, and that was the reason she disliked my brother. I gripped the glass, a second away from crushing it or leaping over the coffee table and ramming my fists into his face.
He sneered. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
I itched to wipe the smirk off his face. It was best that I switched gears, though. I didn’t need to end up in the hospital like I had when we were teenagers, although I was broader in the chest than Duke. Still, he could probably deck me in two seconds flat.
“Why do you insist on fucking with my head?” I asked.
“Are you sure I’m screwing with your head or your girl?”
I growled. “Why didn’t you fight for me during my trial? Find me a good lawyer. You had the money.” I waved my hand around the room. “Still do.” The penthouse had to cost about a million, if not more.
He pushed to his feet, that smirk still in place, and moseyed over to the bar. In that moment, he reminded me so much of our old man, and not in the physical features. I resembled my old man in that department, but Duke had his mannerisms—the way he puffed out his chest, the way his expression dripped with resentment and self-satisfaction.
“You made your bed, Denim. It wasn’t up to me to fix your shit. How many times did I tell you not to get involved with Alvarez? How many times did I tell you he would bring you down?”
“Then you should’ve brought me into your money-laundering empire.”
He returned with a full glass of bourbon. “Should I check you for a wire?”
I chuckled. “Go ahead. Knock yourself out.”
Travers wasn’t going to be happy Duke was onto the Feds’ plan. I wasn’t sure how that new wrinkle would play out for me. With my luck, Travers would think I told Duke then ship my ass back to prison.
His nostrils flared. “What’s next for you? Narc on your brother? Work for Tito Alvarez?”
“Why? Do you care?”
Duke kept his feelings close to his vest unless someone royally pissed him off. Then watch out. He could be meaner than our drunk old man.
“Not at all.” His tone didn’t have one ounce of empathy or sympathy.
I shook my head. “You’re a piece of work. What happened to you?”
