Page 62 of Hart of Vengeance
The bouncer blocked Dillon. “I don’t think so.”
Dillon shrugged at me. “I guess if we’re going to get kicked out, we might as well go out in Hart-style fashion.” That meant throwing punches and causing a commotion.
As big as the dude was, he couldn’t take both of us at the same time.
The people in line aimed their phones in our direction.
Dillon’s face lit up. “I’m ready to bash some heads in. It’s been a while.”
I couldn’t blame him. I was tired of getting the word “no” thrown in my face. I was equally exasperated with Duke and his stone-cold, high-and-mighty “I’m in charge and still your older brother” attitude. Regardless, I didn’t need a commotion. Tito might run, and Duke could call the cops on us.
I latched on to Dillon’s arm. “Wait, bro. I have an idea.”
Dillon did a double take, practically frowning. “This better be good, man.”
The bouncer even lifted his dark eyebrows.
“Do you want me to call the cops to let them know you’re letting in underage women?” I flicked my head to the three teenyboppers who had on two-inch-thick makeup to make them look older. “I’m sure the Feds who are watching us right now would storm the club.” Travers would probably jump at the chance to take Duke downtown for questioning and the chance to scare him into talking.
The bouncer scanned the lot.
Smart man.
“Good one, bro,” Dillon said with a scowl.
The three women started to protest.
“Sorry, ladies,” the bouncer said before he turned back to Dillon and me. “If I lose my job, I’m hunting you guys down.” He unlatched the rope and allowed us to walk through.
I ignored his threat, as did Dillon. He didn’t scare me. Besides, I had bigger threats to worry about.
After Dillon and I each paid the thirty-dollar entrance fee, we entered into another dimension. Men with G-strings danced in cages hanging from the high vaulted ceiling. Others carried trays of drinks to partygoers, and some of them knocked back Jell-O shots with their customers, who were mostly women. I imagined some of the men swinging their hips on the packed dance floor batted for the other team. Some of my brethren in prison would get off on this club for sure.
“See?” Dillon shouted over the punk-rock music. “Not your typical club.”
I was about to tell him that it wasn’t as elaborate as I’d imagined, but I tossed out that comment when I saw Jade at the bar. Or maybe my eyes were deceiving me. Maybe the woman with black hair spilling down over her low-cut blouse was Jade’s doppelgänger.
I slapped Dillon’s shoulder. “Bar. Jade is here.”
He whipped his head at the L-shaped bar that lined two sides of the club.
I pushed through the throng of stoners, drunks, and sweaty bodies.
One waiter stopped to let a young blonde stroke his hard-on.
What the fuck is Jade doing here?
Dillon gripped my shoulder. “Right behind you.”
“Look for Tito,” I tossed out. “He might be up on those couches on the second floor or at the bar up there.”
As large as the space was on the first floor, the second floor was equally as big. The only difference was that I noticed more men above with women walking around either topless or in bikinis.
“Look up at the glass room,” Dillon said in my ear.
I stopped near a high bar table along the wall and craned my neck up.
Duke stood behind the glass, dressed in a tailored suit, looking like he was the head of a mafia organization. Suddenly, I was back in prison. The guards there had the same stance as they observed the cellblock.
