Page 77 of Hart of Vengeance
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you,” Kelton said. “I ran into him when I was visiting Jade earlier at the hospital. He was there asking her questions. Anyway, I made it clear that he needs to stop making idle threats. Your parole is well aboveboard, and the only way you can go back to jail is to violate your parole in some fashion. You are not obligated to help him take down Duke. However, if you want to clear your record, you might want to consider working with the Feds. The offer he gave me is good. There’s no hidden agenda or threats whatsoever.”
“It’s up to me, then?” I asked for no other reason than to roll that idea around in my head. “I guess my question is, what specifically does Travers want me to get from Duke?”
Kelton wiped his mouth with a napkin. “According to the letter, the Feds want a time and place of the next gun shipment coming in. Get that info, and they’ll seal the deal with you.”
I let out a crazed laugh. “Duke isn’t going to give that to me.”
“That’s a fact,” Dillon said in between bites. “Duke knows the Feds are watching anyway. It’s impossible for Denim to come through.”
Exactly.The only way my name was getting cleared was to find out who killed Hector, which was an impossible feat in my mind if I couldn’t find the neighbor. But my conundrum at the moment was that I had Tito breathing down my neck. I was in a catch-22. And I cared more about keeping Jade alive than clearing my name.
24
Jade
Six days had passed since I’d gotten shot. Seven since Savannah died. I was ready to get out of my hospital bed and breathe in some fresh air or do something. Sitting idle was driving me nuts. I had to do something to keep my mind busy and not think about whether Denim was dead or alive.
Tears pooled in my eyes as I stared at the bathroom door in my private room, which Dillon had insisted on. He’d even had one of his security guards who worked at the shelter guard my door. I felt like I was back in Savannah’s room in the ICU.
Regardless, I appreciated his concern. “We need to be careful. I can’t let anything happen to you. Denim would never forgive me.”
“Do we know if he’s alive?” I’d asked several times. Actually, every time Dillon, Rafe, or Mallory came in, that was my first question. I’d even asked Kelton when he’d come to visit, knowing full well he didn’t have any answers.
I’d also bombarded Agent Travers when he’d peppered me with questions. His response had been, “We have our men out looking for him.” Then he’d said, “I hope he didn’t violate his parole.”
I’d almost punched him for his last sentence. The jerk was worried about him violating parole. He’d given me the impression that he was hoping Denim actuallyhadso the FBI could send him back to prison.
Regardless, the more time that ticked away, the less of a chance there was that we would find Denim alive, at least that was the usual police rule with missing persons.
Thankfully, the pain meds kept me groggy and sleeping most of the time. When I’d been awake, Mallory and I had talked about a burial service for Savannah. I’d tried to call my aunt, but I’d gotten her voice mail, and I hadn’t wanted to leave bad news on a recording.
I flicked on the TV. The room was too quiet. Mallory was working, Dillon had an errand to run, and Rafe was standing outside my door. He didn’t come in much. Every now and then, he would poke his head in, and I would laugh. It wasn’t like I was about to disappear. Sure, I could jump out of the window, but I was five stories up, and I wasn’t a daredevil. Nor did I have anything to run from, at least not yet.
When Rafe wasn’t on duty and Mallory wasn’t talking my ear off about work, Dillon sat with me and sometimes stayed the night. I enjoyed reconnecting with Dillon. He’d filled me in on his life. I was horrified to hear about his sister ending up in a sex-trafficking ring. He’d explained the harrowing experience of searching every part of the city for Grace for four years. I couldn’t imagine how hard that must’ve been, always wondering if he would find her dead or alive. I’d cried when he’d gotten to the end of the story where he’d found her.
I couldn’t help but think how Savannah could’ve easily been snatched by some creepy dude and put up for sale, although prison was hell too, just a different kind of hell.
Regardless, I knew that by telling me about Grace, Dillon was trying to put me at ease. “My brother doesn’t die easily,” Dillon had said without a hint of doubt in his voice.
When someone wanted a person dead, they would go to great lengths to make it happen. Tito had tried twice within days, and if my belief that things happened in threes were true, then Denim might be a goner.
I focused on the TV rather than Denim. The ribbon at the bottom of the screen caught my attention. “Update on the recent shooting at The Monarch.”
I turned up the volume.
A pretty blonde from the local news channel waved to the club behind her. “We’re standing outside The Monarch, a brand-new club that opened last week, where the recent shooting took place. We’ve tried to contact the owner, but a representative for the club declined to take our call. Police still haven’t found the shooter, but witnesses have described a man in his late twenties with dark hair. We also learned earlier that the woman who was shot will make a full recovery. We’ll have more updates on the news at eleven. Coming to you from downtown Boston, I’m Maggie Marx, KBCA News.”
So that was Maggie. In our long talks, Dillon had gushed about his bride-to-be and how she worked for a local news channel.
“She’s gorgeous,” I said to myself.
“So are you,” a husky voice said.
My heart stopped at the sound of Denim’s voice. I darted my gaze to the doorway. When I did, my mouth came apart. Tears catapulted out so fast, I couldn’t stop them.
His beautiful blue orbs popped amid the blackness ringing his eyes. His cheeks were swollen, and several cuts were scattered around his face.
“You’re alive.” My voice cracked.
