Page 61 of Hart of Vengeance
“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anything to do with me.” I was getting the feeling that no one did other than Dillon and Grace. But I wasn’t about to feel sorry for myself. I would show her I still loved her, although a persistent voice in my head said I should walk away from Jade until the danger surrounding me was gone.
I wasn’t sure it would ever go away, though. I was related to one of the top criminals in the city if the Feds were right, and that had to bring danger. If Duke’s enemies wanted to infiltrate his organization or hurt him where it counted, then his family members could suffer.
Dillon swatted me on my arm. “Did you hear me?”
I threaded my hands through my hair. “No.”
“I just got a text from Rafe.”
Thoughts of Jade vanished as my ears perked up. I’d been asking Dillon nonstop if he’d heard from his man about Tito’s whereabouts.
Dillon brushed a hand over his unshaven jaw, a move he made when he was unsure of something. “Rumor is Tito will be here tonight.”
My eyebrows had to be in my hairline. “For real? At Duke’s new club?”
I watched as Dillon texted Rafe:Are you sure?
Rafe:My contact is always spot-on.
I hopped out of line. The night just got more interesting, and I wasn’t waiting any longer to get into the club.Screw Duke.Tito was my target now.
Dillon caught my arm, hardening his jaw. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going in whether the bouncer lets me in or not. Tito could be in there.”
Dillon scanned the area with mechanical precision.
I did the same but only because the Feds came to mind. I was sure Travers or his men were skulking nearby, watching Duke, following me, or maybe scoping out Tito.
“You know, bro. You should get out of here,” I said. “Things could get ugly.”
“Fuck you,” Dillon barked. “I told you—I’ve got your back. I’m not going anywhere.”
I got in his face. “Think about your upcoming marriage, your girl, your shelter, your fucking future. You don’t need the hassle.”You don’t need to die because of me.
“Still not leaving.” Dillon started toward the bouncer, who reminded me of Stew. He had the physique of a wrestler; large, bulky biceps; a broad chest; and a small head.
Dillon ponied up to the rope with his ID, ready to shove it in the beefy man’s face.
The bouncer narrowed his dark, beady eyes at Dillon. “Get in line.”
I pulled out my ID too. Maybe if the man saw the Hart name, he wouldn’t give us any flack.
He held up his hand to three women, gesturing to them to wait. My guess was they were sixteen or younger, brandishing fake IDs.
Note to self: Stay away from any ladies inside.The last thing I needed was to spark up a conversation with an underage girl. With my luck, my ass would be carted off to prison once again.
The bouncer pointed his penlight at Dillon’s ID then mine, studying them as though he were confused.
“Let us in,” I said.
“Sorry, dude. I have orders not to let you in tonight.”
Dillon and I exchanged a surprised look. My brother’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets.
The women whined, and one of them cried, “Come on. We’re wasting precious time.”
Dillon tried to climb over the rope. “Fuck this. I’m going in.”
