Hart of Darkness

by S. B. Alexander

  I stalked down the hall as though I were getting into a boxing ring. But when I reached the common room, Duke wasn’t around. The room was empty and so was the kitchen.

  “Where is he?” I asked Hunt.

  Norma stayed at my side as if she were my bodyguard. Hunt hurried to the computer on Norma’s desk and brought up the security cameras.

  “Why don’t you check on the women?” I said to Norma more than asked. We had a total of seven women residing in the shelter, and I couldn’t be happier about that. What I wasn’t happy about was Duke showing up there. If things got out of control between us, I wanted to make sure our guests didn’t witness the argument.

  Norma took off upstairs. Angel, Debbie, and the other ladies had been in the kitchen earlier. Most of them liked to relax in their rooms, and a couple of them had bonded as friends.

  Hunt tapped on a key. “He’s on the porch. I’ll be right here in case you need me.”

  I found Duke leaning against the support beam on the top step with his back to me. “You shouldn’t have shown up here. This is my place of business.”

  Dusk was setting in. The days were growing shorter as we approached fall. I was ready for cold weather. I loved the cold, the snow, and at times the rain. I could do without the heat and humidity.

  “The neighborhood sucks,” Duke said, not bothering to turn around.

  I could also do without his insults and his pissy attitude. “Where’s Grace?” I leaned against the opposite column of the porch.

  His expensive blue Navigator with dark-tinted windows didn’t fit against the backdrop of low-income homes.

  He swiveled his head toward me. “You shouldn’t care so fucking much.”

  My eyebrows cinched. “Who gave you the black eye?” I’d punched him but not in the nose or the eyes.

  “None of your business.” He was talking to me as if I were one of his thugs.

  “Why don’t you care, Duke?” I regulated my breathing to keep my anger under wraps.

  He set his jaw. “The minute I care for anyone or anything is the minute they’ll find a way to screw me from here to hell.”

  I didn’t know who they were, and honestly, I didn’t want to know unless he meant Grace. The less I knew about Duke’s personal or professional life, the better it was for him more than me. With all his illegal shit, I didn’t want to be the one to throw him in jail. My ultimatum had only been a scare tactic.

  He walked down the steps and kept going until he got to his car.

  Steam came out of my nose.

  I was beginning to see my old man in Duke—the drinking and the rudeness.

  Duke opened the back door of his Navigator, his attention far away, as though he were a robot doing what he’d been told.

  I saw army boots first then skinny-jean-covered legs. When the girl was upright and in full view, I gripped the railing to prevent me from collapsing.

  My pulse shot out of my body and straight to the moon like a rocket taking off at Cape Canaveral. I swore my heart would burst mid-flight and drizzle down into tiny pieces over the earth.

  The girl tossed her bangs out of her eyes with a quick jerk of her head, reminding me of a celebrity walking the red carpet.

  Duke said something to her that I couldn’t make out. Then again, the only thing I could hear was a pounding sound, as if someone were banging a hammer on a nail that wouldn’t cooperate.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Breathe, man.

  Smiling at Duke, she angled her head slightly, and I spied her hummingbird tattoo. It wasn’t hard to see with her short hair.

  Grace Hart, sister to Denim, Duke, and Dillon Hart, born to Jerome and Emily Hart, found after four years.

  I always thought I would run to her if I ever saw her again, or that I would break down and cry like a baby who was hungry and needed his diaper changed. All the anger I’d built up over knowing she didn’t want me to know she was alive wasn’t even there. I was numb from head to toe. I pinched myself for good measure.

  She glided toward me, almost as if she were skating on ice, something she’d loved to do as a kid. Her legs were long, her brown eyes wide and slightly slanted, her curves defined, and her black T-shirt stretched across her breasts. My baby sister was a woman. Gone was the innocence I remembered. Gone were the chubby cheeks and baby fat.

  I was looking at a woman who had been through some kind of hell—hell worse than my father could dish out. I only knew that because that bright spark she’d always had had been snuffed out.

  I open and closed my fists, not at Grace but at whoever had had the fucking nerve to touch her and change her. The anger I’d held toward Grace was now directed at someone else, stronger, meaner, and fiercer, jolting my adrenaline.

  I descended the steps and met her halfway.

  We sized each other up, not saying a word. Up close, she was out-of-this-world beautiful. Her eyelashes were long and her heart-shaped lips were still pink like they had been when she was a little girl. Even though I remembered her with long hair, the Halle Berry hairstyle suited her even better and brought out her round face.

  A tear escaped down her cheek.

  I wasn’t a crier. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shed any tears. But there I was ready to wail.

  I wanted to touch her, throw my arms around her, hold her tight, and not let go, but I wasn’t sure if I should. We were blood yet strangers to one another. I reached out with my hand, and as if that were all she needed, she flew into my arms.

  My hands went around her tiny waist, and suddenly I was at peace. Every sleepless night, every minute of scouring the streets of Boston, every fucking day since she’d left, and every emotion I’d endured all vanished.

  “I’m so sorry, Grace. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I’m sorry that I didn’t come home sooner.”

  She bawled in my arms. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  I had so many questions, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

  Duke’s deep and rude voice severed my bliss. “We’re both here now, Grace. So you need to tell us where you’ve been for four years.”

  She tensed in my arms before she broke away from me, wiping her eyes. Fear gripped her through the sadness.

  All I could think about at the moment was my old man slapping her around because she’d had that same look on her face before he unleashed his wrath on her.

  Duke shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. My brother was dressed as though he were going out on a date.

  Shit! Maggie! I had a small window of time.

  Red splotches dotted Grace’s snow-white skin. “You know, don’t you?”

  I did a double take as I glanced at my brother then back at Grace. “What are you talking about?”

  Duke pushed out his shoulders. “I’m clueless.”

  I recalled Duke saying he didn’t know where Grace had run off to.

  “Look, I need to make a phone call.” I had to tell Maggie I might be late. “Then I need answers, Grace.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Duke added.

  Wow! My brother and I agreed on something.

  Grace hung her head. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  Damn straight she would.

  I strode in the direction of the porch, tapping on Maggie’s name in the favorites on my phone. The line rang until her voice mail picked up. “Maggie, call me as soon as you get this.”

  Maybe she was working up until we were supposed to meet. The woman worked nonstop. I knew she was trying to crack the big story. I knew she wanted the dirt on the Black Knights.

  The line to her desk rang five times before a male voice answered.

  “Boston Eagle, Bruce speaking.”

  “Bruce, this is Dillon Hart. We met yesterday. Is Maggie still working? I’ve tried her cell phone, but she’s not answering.”

  “No. She left early to follow up on a quick lead before her date with you, and she forgot her cell phone. It’s sitting in the c
harger on her desk. Is everything okay?”

  “Fine. Thanks, man.” I hung up.

  I could call the restaurant, or I had a better idea because I wasn’t leaving Grace until I got answers, even if Grace had to chaperone my date.

  I returned to my siblings, who were not speaking to one another, which was odd. Grace had run to Duke when she needed money. “I’m supposed to meet my girl for dinner in the city, but I can’t get ahold of her. She forgot her cell at work. So we’re going on a little trip.” I directed the last line at Grace. I wasn’t giving her a chance to skip out.

  From the regret written all over her face, I knew she wouldn’t run.

  “As much as I loathe family shit, I’ll drive,” Duke said. “I want answers too.”

  We probably needed more time than the twenty- to thirty-minute car ride, but at least it was a start.

  27

  Maggie

  I parked in between two cars across the street from the house on Bleven and Third that belonged to Marco Holdings. I’d skipped out of work early so I could check out the house before I had to meet Dillon. My goal was to snoop around the home, but when I arrived, a car sat in the driveway.

  The upscale neighborhood looked different in the light. Pear trees lined the sidewalks. The lawns were pristine green with shrubs pruned to round and oblong shapes. A handful of leaves fluttered to the ground in the light summer breeze.

  The two-story brick home sat up on a slight incline. Its cement steps that led up to the high-columned porch were embedded in the earth, with colorful perennials lining the edges.

  Any evidence of a raid or shootout didn’t exist. The windows were intact. The front door was solid with no signs of anyone having broken it down.

  The souped-up black Jeep in the driveway told me someone was inside. I debated whether to go up and ring the bell. I could always use the excuse that I had the wrong house just to see who would answer the door.

  Marco Holdings was a mystery. The more I peeled the onion, the more I couldn’t find who was behind the company. The only piece of information I had found was an address in Brazil, which was odd for a home. But it wasn’t odd if the Black Knights were the real owners. Another definition for a shell company was a person or entity that wants to hide their business from the law.

  I suspected the gang owned the home. After all, Dan Silva, the guy Ted’s unit had arrested, was a Black Knight.

  I scanned the area once again, not finding any unmarked cars or vans that Ted and his team used, and I didn’t see any police cruisers either.

  The longer I sat there, watching and waiting for someone to walk out that door, the more I prayed Cory Calderon was inside.

  If he is, then what?

  I had no clue. It was idiotic to attempt to poke my nose or poke the bear. Nothing good would come from me investigating the very place Nadine ran from. Yeah, I didn’t want to end up like her. Yet I wanted to put the Black Knights story to bed once and for all.

  I checked the time on my watch. I had thirty minutes before my smoking-hot date. While the restaurant wasn’t far, I should get going.

  So I lowered my gaze and turned the key in the ignition, when someone banged on the passenger’s window. I squealed as I whipped my head around to see a man I didn’t recognize peering inside my car. He had evil beady blue eyes, a hooknose, and a flat chin. His black hair was thick, with long sideburns that melded into the thin beard hugging his jaw.

  My VW Bug was old and didn’t have power windows, so I couldn’t exactly roll down the passenger’s window. I didn’t want to either. For all I knew, the man probably snuck out of the house I was watching. Note to self: Keep your guard up.

  “What do you want?” I asked in a raised voice so he could hear me.

  “Are you a cop?” Hooknose asked. “You seem to be watching that house pretty intently.”

  Gang members had a cocksure attitude dripping off them that said fuck with me, and I’ll kill you. This man had that MO.

  The engine idled, and I sped off, adrenaline pumping through me as if someone had shot me up with a high dose of crack. I glanced in the rearview mirror to find the man with his phone to his ear as he watched me drive away.

  Great job, Mags. Now he’ll call the cops. An alert will go out for my car, and then Ted will be all over my ass.

  Bruce didn’t want me to clue Ted in if I found anything out about the Black Knights. And no law said I had to either. I considered Ted family, but I had a job to do just like he did.

  I blew out a breath as I sailed through the city streets, zipping in and around cars and checking the rearview mirror every second.

  Dillon and I agreed to meet at Tapas, a bar in the city where they served my favorite Spanish cuisine. Lou had cooked the best paella in all of Boston. I missed him. We were never an item, but he’d been a big brother to me. He’d been in his twenties when he found me at age fourteen, beaten and a second away from dying.

  Fifteen minutes or so later, I found a spot on the street outside the restaurant. I was five minutes early. Maybe Dillon was too. As soon as I walked in, the spicy aromas found their way to my nose, making my stomach growl. I hadn’t had a decent meal in quite some time. Subs from Hank’s and Chinese food didn’t count as decent since I practically ate that all the time.

  A line of people waited for the hostess to take down their names. Others sat on benches along both walls near the entrance. Glasses clinked. Voices droned. The double doors straight ahead squeaked as waiters and waitresses shuffled in and out of the kitchen, with trays of food and empty dishes.

  I scanned the bar and the eating area for Dillon but didn’t see him. I even asked the hostess with heavy makeup if Dillon Hart had checked in. Once she gave me the headshake that he hadn’t, I gave her my name then found an empty section of wall in the somewhat large waiting area and leaned against it.

  Out of habit, I dug out my phone from my messenger bag… or tried. I tore the inside of my bag apart but didn’t find my phone. I hurried out to my car only to find it wasn’t there either. In my head, I retraced my steps before I’d left the newspaper. I’d hung up from talking to Ted. He’d called me to ask if I had contacted my mom, which hadn’t surprised me.

  “I will soon,” I had said.

  He seemed happy with my answer. Then I asked him questions about his case on the Black Knights. He was still hush-hush about it.

  I then reread what I’d written over the last week on what I was tentatively calling my memoir. Afterward, I talked to Bruce, who was working late. He asked me how I felt about Dillon.

  “I have some strong feelings for him, but I’m not sure what they mean,” I said.

  “Mmm,” Bruce returned. “You’ll know if you get this tickling feeling in your stomach anytime you see him or hear his voice, or when you’re not with him, you’ll itch like a drug addict needing that fix for him.”

  I laughed at Bruce’s description of how he’d felt when he met his wife.

  I certainly had all those feelings when it came to Dillon. But I wasn’t going down that road yet to love.

  One day at a time. Date first.

  Once I’d finished my conversation with Bruce, I grabbed my bag and left. I had Dillon and Marco Holdings on the brain and had forgotten to snag my phone from the charger.

  Argh!

  I didn’t have time to go back to the news building. It was clear on the other side of the city. So I ambled back toward the entrance, when I spotted a black Jeep that looked exactly like the one I’d seen parked at the house on Bleven and Third. Surely, it couldn’t be the same one. Nevertheless, I stood at a parking meter with horror hurtling through me at the notion that Hooknose had followed me.

  The Jeep stopped at a red light about a quarter of a block from me. The street sign up ahead read No Right Turn On Red. When the light changed to green, the Jeep banked right.

  Curiosity was a bitch. I jogged up to the corner past the restaurant. When I rounded the edge of the building, I bumped into a wall of muscle,
almost knocking the breath out of me.

  I would’ve kneed the man in the groin if it weren’t for him saying my name. “Maggie?”

  I glanced up, losing sight of the Jeep. “Dom?”

  Sirens were going off in my head, blaring, caution, caution, caution, more because of the Jeep than Dom.

  “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost,” Dom said.

  I knew the Jeep was long gone, and my pulse slowed a smidge, but the bad feeling was seeping into my bones.

  “Funny running into you,” I said.

  He swept his gaze over me, his diamond earrings twinkling in the headlights of an oncoming car. “Fi works at Tapas.”

  I hadn’t seen her. Then again, I’d only been in the restaurant for a second before I dashed out. “Oh.”

  He offered me his elbow. “Come on. I can get us a great table.”

  I took his arm as though I were dating him and not Dillon. Dom had an aura about him that pulled me in. He was handsome with a powerful badass quality. I wasn’t afraid of much except dark alleys, and Dom didn’t push any of my fear buttons. But the untrusting side of me was waving a red flag.

  “You’re awful presumptuous.” I scanned the streets up and down, looking as far as I could for the Jeep.

  Dom let out a deep chuckle. “And you’re mighty pretty.”

  A normal girl would get sucked into his biker charm and blush all kinds of reds and pinks. I was Maggie Marx, former gang member, albeit my gang had been a group of kids who’d protected each other and their neighborhoods, not a gang involved in drugs, guns, and possibly sex trafficking. The city had changed drastically over the years. At one time, the mafia had had a hold on the city, and I would guess they still did. But gangs were multiplying. The commonality between gangs and mafia was bad shit. The difference between the organizations was that the mafia had an old-school mentality about family and didn’t prey on women. I only knew that from Ted’s time on the streets. On the other hand, the new era of gangs had a moral code of doing whatever it took to make money.