Page 29 of Hart of Redemption
“Duke,” a female voice called from his bedroom. “Are you in here?”
My stomach dropped. The last thing I wanted to do was to have a woman he might be dating get the wrong idea about us.
Duke eased away. “Grace?”
His sister breezed in, assessing the situation as her gaze bounced from Duke to me. “Oh. Vince said you were helping the bartender. I thought he meant?—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Duke said. “What are you doing here this late?”
Grace Hart was stunning, with long, wavy locks that tumbled to the middle of her back. Her makeup brought out the sparkle in her copper eyes, and she was dressed in a shimmery low-cut top over black leggings, with ankle-high boots to complete her outfit.
Ignoring her brother, she turned to me. “I’m Grace, Duke’s sister. Bartender? Are you sure you’re not a model?”
I was flattered. “Bartender.”
A tall blond man waltzed in and sidled up to Grace.
Duke stiffened. “Denim? What’s going on? Everything okay? Dillon with you?”
Denim Hart, tall, blond, blue-eyed, and the youngest Hart brother, had spent time in the slammer for a murder he hadn’t committed. He’d also been instrumental in putting away Tito Alvarez for the exact murder Denim had been accused of.
Denim glued his attention to me. “Are we interrupting?” He was smiling as if he was proud of his brother. “Who’s the pretty lady?”
“Bartender,” Grace answered for me.
“No shit,” Denim said.
I slid off the sink, smoothing my hands down my denim-clad legs. “I’m Joy. Duke was playing nurse.” I pointed at my temple. “Rowdy customer.”
“Really? My brother hasn’t done that since we were kids.” Shock wove through Denim’s words.
Grace sashayed over to Duke then felt his forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
Duke rolled down his shirtsleeves as if he didn’t have a care in the world, or maybe he was avoiding his inquisitive siblings. “Grace, please don’t read anything into this. You know I take care of my employees.”
Denim guffawed. “Not personally, you don’t. You have men to do your dirty work, including bandaging.”
If looks could kill, Denim would be dead. “Denim,” Duke warned.
As if Grace were the peacekeeper, she said, “Denim needs to chat with you, and I tagged along. I wanted to see Matt.”
Duke raised his eyebrow.
She huffed. “I’m not dating him or anything. He wants to help me with my college application to Boston University. Of course, not at this time of night, but I need to ask him a few things. He’s hard to track down during the day. Plus, I got your message about giving Brian my phone number. I’ll let him know I can take Fran dress shopping when she’s home for Thanksgiving. I need a dress for the gala anyway.”
“Our sister is going to be a college girl,” Denim said. “Can you believe that?”
The smile on Duke’s face was blinding. “I’m proud of you. Also, thank you for helping Fran. Brian will be happy.” He kissed her on the head. “Do you need my credit card to buy your dress?”
She batted her pretty eyes at Duke. “That would be nice.”
The man melted on the spot again. “Of course. I want you to be the most beautiful woman in the room.”
As I watched the bonds among the Hart siblings, I was crying inside. Jason and I had shared that kind of love, but I would never again have that sibling connection—the laughter, the holidays, the big brother watching over me like Jason had done when we were growing up.
On the flip side, anger rifled through me, my muscles tightening. Duke, Brian, and criminals like them were happy and building family ties. Yet they were simultaneously profiting from violence and fueling other thugs with weapons and illegal drugs, resulting in bloodshed, death, and destruction.
“Joy, did you hear me?” Grace asked, yanking me out of my thoughts.
