Hart of Vengeance: The Hart Series

by Alexander, S. B.

  “I’m so sorry. Did you live with a relative growing up?”

  “Our aunt, who’s now on a charity mission in Africa. She wasn’t ready to take on two teenage girls. My mom’s sister was single and still a kid herself. I mainly took care of Savannah, but that was tough. We both changed after our parents died. She rebelled with boys, petty crime, and drugs. I became a hermit, focusing on school.” And Denim.

  “If you would like me to look into your sister’s case, I can.”

  Tears pooled, mainly because I was remembering my parents. “Thank you. But they have her on tape. Plus, she confessed.” I didn’t have to ask her why she’d turned to robbery. Money had been scarce for both of us, more so with her since she was into drugs and could barely hold down a job.

  “I just want you to know that I take care of those who work for me. If there’s anything I can do, don’t be shy in asking for my help,” Kelton said. “You’re family now.”

  More tears threatened to spill. I didn’t know what family was anymore. I’d been on my own since my aunt jetted off to Africa three years ago. My dad had a sister in Washington, but I’d only seen her once at Christmas when I was a little girl.

  Silence ensued again and stayed with us until we reached the outskirts of Boston.

  Kelton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he slowed the car to a complete stop. Blue and red lights flashed up ahead.

  “Kelton, speaking of my sister, would you mind if I take Friday morning off to go see her? I hate to even ask since I just started, but I haven’t heard from her in two weeks. With all the talk about my sister, Duke, and the FBI, I want to check on her.” I had to be honest with him. Granted, I could call the jail, but I would rather see Savannah.

  “Is she okay?”

  I shrugged. “She’s been in a few fights. I just want to make sure the bad feeling I have is nothing serious.” Despite our differences, she was my sister, and I cared about her. Plus, if I were being honest, I was feeling a bit of guilt in the pit of my stomach over how I’d practically ignored her claims about needing money and the severity of the consequences if she didn’t get it.

  “Of course,” he said. “No matter what, family always comes first.”

  I slumped my shoulders. Maybe my future was looking brighter. I had a good job. I could find a decent place to live, pay my bills, put money away, and maybe I could help Savannah when she was released. I didn’t need anything else.

  Liar.

  I wanted a family. But at the moment, I would settle for a good man.

  If Denim gets out, then he’s your man.

  Hell no.

  8

  Jade

  I waited in the large, barren room save for cold metal tables and chairs and cameras jutting out from the corners. A clock on the wall provided the only sound with the tick, tick, tick of the second hand. I bit my nails, waiting for Savannah, watching for the thick steel door to open. Other than me, a young man stared at the scratched tabletop next to me, an older woman occupied a table in the far corner, and a middle-aged prison guard sat at a desk adjacent to the visitors’ entrance.

  I hadn’t heard from Savannah since her phone call the day of my interview, and I was curious if she’d finally talked to Duke.

  The click of the lock made me flinch, and I dropped my fingers to my lap, straightening my spine.

  A blond girl who had to be nineteen or twenty breezed through the door first and beelined it over to the older woman. On her heels, a gal as young as the first bounced in, smiling as her red ponytail swung from side to side. The young man rose, beaming at her with love pouring off him.

  I sighed, hoping one day a man would look at me that way. But love flapped its wings and flew out the high window in the room when my sister stomped in. Her bruised face was pinched, her brown hair was oily, and bandages covered her hands and arms.

  I pressed my lips together, holding back the need to scream and shout despite the fact that my heart was breaking at how her life had turned out.

  She slid into the chair across from me, slumped her shoulders, and stared.

  “What happened to you?” My voice cracked in several places.

  She touched the stitches above her left eyebrow. “This is what happens when you hang up on me.”

  My eyes nearly popped out. “You’re blaming me for your condition?”

  “I asked you for help.”

  I clenched my fists, mostly to get them to stop shaking. I was at a loss for words. But words didn’t work on Savannah. Actions didn’t either. I tried not to give in to her demands, but sometimes it was easier to give her what she wanted and get her off my back. However, I was trying to turn over a new leaf. I was trying to distance myself from her, although I was taking baby steps. It had helped that she was in prison. Otherwise, she would be beating down my door and getting in my face until I broke down and gave her what she wanted, which was, nine times out of ten, money.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you here?”

  “I hadn’t heard from you, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” After seeing Denim’s cuts and bruises, I’d thought of Savannah.

  She twirled a finger around her face. “Well, am I?”

  A violent scream was stuck in my throat. Instead, I clenched my teeth. “Cut the bullshit,” I whisper-yelled. “You’re not pinning your actions on me. I’ve done nothing but try to help you since Mom and Dad died. You chose the path you’re on.” I stabbed a finger at her. “You chose to fall in love with a criminal.”

  She popped forward. “And you think Denim is a saint? Newsflash, sis. He’s as bad as Duke. Oh, wait. He’s in jail for murder. Much worse than Duke.”

  I wasn’t about to waste my time rehashing an argument we’d had many times before. “I’m not here to talk about Denim or me. What did you want from Duke? Have you talked to him?”

  “You’re still in love with Denim. He’ll get out of prison one day. Then what will you do?”

  Run as far away as I can. “Coming here was a mistake. I thought prison would change you. But you’re still a bitch.”

  She sneered as she leaned in. Her green eyes were pinpricks. “You don’t know what it’s like in here. You know something? Leave! Push me away.”

  Don’t engage. Get up and walk out.

  I pressed my hands on top of the table, motioning to stand.

  “Wait,” she said, losing the narcissistic attitude. “Duke isn’t accepting my calls. He owes me money. I need it.”

  “What could you possibly need money for in prison?” If I weren’t mistaken, the state gave each inmate a monthly stipend for toiletries and such. “Drugs?” She’d dabbled in coke. “Gambling?” My sister was good at cards. After Dad had taught her how to play poker, she was hooked. She’d played in high school, taking people’s money left and right.

  She checked on the guard at the door. “I just need it.” Then she sized me up, looking at me as if she were really seeing me for the first time. “Since when do you wear expensive clothes?”

  I glanced down at my pink silk blouse and gray slacks. “I got a job.”

  She perked up. “So you have money now?”

  I shook my head. “I just started. And don’t think for a second I’m loaning you any of my hard-earned cash.” I was all for helping her, but not so she could sniff it or gamble it away.

  “Then don’t bother showing up again.”

  I closed my eyes briefly, pushing down the need to lash out. “Mom and Dad would be so disappointed and heartbroken to see you like this.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Stop throwing Mom and Dad in my face. You’ve done that repeatedly since the fire.”

  “You know next month is the anniversary of their deaths.”

  “Your point is?”

  For a stunned second, I held my breath. “Shape up, Savannah. And let’s be real. I can’t do anything for you while you’re in this place.”

  “You could’ve gone to Duke for me. He would’ve helped me.”


  Don’t scream. Take a breath. She’s your sister. She’s hurting.

  I puffed out air. “Pfft. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, then he’s not about to help you. How much do you need?” I wasn’t loaning her any money, but I was curious.

  Curiosity killed the cat.

  “Two grand.”

  I rubbed my temples as a dull throb started. “Gambling?”

  She visibly swallowed as her skin turned ashen. “Protection.”

  I knew nothing about prison, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around her answer or the questions I had. But I was certain she wouldn’t come clean with me.

  She leaned over the table, and strands of her oily brown hair fell forward. “I’m serious, Jade.” Fear replaced the derision in her tone. “The only way I will make it out of this shithole alive is to pay for protection. You’ve got to ask Duke for money or find some. At this point, I don’t care how.”

  “Does someone want you dead?”

  “I’m in prison. Everyone wants someone dead.”

  I often wondered how our lives would’ve turned out if Mom and Dad were alive. Probably the same way, although the fire had messed up both of us. We’d been lucky that Dad had gotten us out of the house. But then he’d gone back in to save Mom and never made it out.

  “Dad!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as flames engulfed our rundown shack. “Mom!” I ran through the rain and mud, stones poking at my bare feet. But I didn’t get far.

  A fireman lifted me up. “No. No. No. You can’t go in there.”

  Tears poured down my cheeks as the hard rain fell from the sky.

  Savannah tapped on the table. “Jay. Why are you crying?”

  I wiped a tear away and sniffled. “How far does two grand get you?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Four months.” A lone tear cascaded down her cheek. “Will you help me?” Her plea was heartbreaking.

  She’d begged before, and the end result was that she came back for more. You’re in a no-win situation if you give in to her. You’ll throw your hard-earned money at your sister, leaving you with nothing once again.

  I should go to see Duke. I should make her his problem. After all, the day of my interview, Savannah had told me Duke owed her money.

  Despite the cuts on her face, I wasn’t about to fall under her spell quite so easily. Fights happened in prison. Denim was evidence of that. I had to be certain she really needed the money for protection. But I didn’t know how to be sure of that.

  Yet if I didn’t give her money and something happened to her, I would feel like shit. I would blame myself.

  A scream blared in my head.

  She sighed. “Will you help me?”

  “I can give you five hundred dollars when I get paid in two weeks.” I’d already used my first check to pay bills.

  “That’s too long. I need it sooner rather than later.” She blinked, and more tears fell.

  “Savannah, I can’t just jump when you bark. I don’t have a sugar daddy either. Life on the outside isn’t a bed of roses for me.” Not that I wanted to trade places with her. “Don’t you dare fire back with ‘prison is worse.’ I can only imagine. You’re going to have to protect yourself until I can figure something out. After all, you’re a fighter.”

  She laughed maniacally. “I’m a bottom-feeder in this godforsaken hellhole.”

  You should’ve thought about that before you robbed a store. The comment was on the tip of my tongue. But saying that would only get us into a screaming match, and I was tired. I also needed to get my butt to work.

  “I can’t promise you anything, but give me a week. That’s the best I can do.” Maybe I should call Duke once and for all.

  I said my goodbyes to Savannah then hurried out of the prison and into my beat-up car. I’d just popped my head back against the headrest when my phone rang.

  “Are you on your way back?” Mallory asked.

  “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

  “Denim got parole. It’s so unusual for the parole board to make a decision on the day of the hearing. He walked in, sat down, answered some questions, and boom. No deliberation or anything.”

  Shit.

  I’d thought I had months to prepare my psyche and my heart. “Please tell me he’s not sitting in our office.”

  I couldn’t deal with Savannah’s problems and Denim.

  “He’ll be out by early next week.”

  I growled. “I’m screwed.” I had shared with Mallory how I’d felt after seeing Denim—confused, elated, angry, frustrated, horny, and pretty much every emotion possible.

  The only good that could come from Denim inserting himself back into my life was a hot night of sex. But even that would end in heartache. Because I knew one kiss, one ride on the Denim train, and one night of unbridled passion would bring me to my knees and have me begging for more.

  9

  Denim

  I had been singing “Hallelujah” in my head since I heard the parole board grant me freedom.

  Fucking freedom.

  I couldn’t wait to feel the sun on my face for longer than an hour at a time. I couldn’t wait to drink a beer, fuck a good woman—as in Jade—put my feet up, and watch a football game in peace. Above all else, I couldn’t wait to find the person who’d set me up.

  For the last four days, I’d been on a high like no other. I’d never believed the day would come when I would walk out of prison.

  Stew and another guard escorted me out, and the closer I got to the gate, the more my heart rammed against my rib cage.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  It was the best feeling ever, the best sound in my ears ever.

  I kept my head forward, not daring to give the place one last look.

  The sun was high in the sky, colorful leaves rustled along the pavement, and a brisk wind slapped me in the face. Best slap ever.

  I inhaled the fresh-cut grass, probably from the lawn on the other side of the road. I took in another breath, and my legs ate up the distance to freedom.

  The gates opened up as the guards kept pace with me. I laughed. It wasn’t as if I would run back to the rat-infested building or do anything to screw up my parole before I even left the premises.

  Dillon leaned against the passenger door of his shiny, expensive blue car. My brother had done well for himself, the legitimate way no less. I made a mental note to pick his brain. As the owner of a women’s shelter, he knew the ins and outs of running a business.

  He smiled as his brown hair whipped around in the wind. I loved seeing him, but I would rather see Jade’s long inky-black hair blowing in the wind as she waited for me. Now that would blow my mind. Hey, a man can dream.

  Twenty more feet, and I was free from the monotonous routine I’d lived with for six years—free from guards on my ass, dark holes, and violence. And the list went on. Above everything else, I wouldn’t have someone barking orders of when to eat, take a shit, or when to sit. I wouldn’t have Costa breathing down my neck. He was still in solitary.

  Fuck you, Costa.

  My pulse sang a happy tune, and with each step I took, ten pounds of weight dropped off my shoulders.

  Before I crossed through the gate, Stew gripped my shoulder. “I wish you the best, Hart.”

  I pivoted on my heel and shook his hand. “Thanks for having my back in there.”

  “Go,” he said. “Enjoy your first day of freedom.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I respected Stew and appreciated his help, but frankly, I didn’t want to see him again. If I did, that meant I would be back in a four-by-four cell. No, thank you.

  The gates slid closed behind me as I waltzed up to my brother with a smile I doubted I could get rid of anytime soon. “I’m free!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  Dillon laughed. “I bet it feels fucking wonderful.”

  I couldn’t even put into words how I felt. Tears stung my eyes, and as shocking as that was, I didn’t even give two fucks if I bawled like a baby. I thre
w myself at my brother and hugged him hard. “You have no idea.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, but I let the tears flow.

  Once we pulled apart, he slapped me on the shoulder. His eyes were brimming with tears too. “Come on, let’s get a beer.”

  A beer, a good fuck, and a good plate of spaghetti… or rather a burger—a good, juicy burger.

  Adrenaline coursed through me like a live wire. I wanted to do so much. Hell, the way I felt, I could run down the road and back to Boston. I just wanted the wind on my face and to see civilization again. I wanted to see people, women, children, and men who weren’t out to kill me.

  I slid into the passenger seat. The new-car scent wafted over me. God help me. I felt as though I were a newborn. I inhaled deeply, relishing the aroma of leather. It was a stark contrast to the disgusting smells of piss, shit, and bad breath I’d lived with.

  Dillon climbed in. “You okay?”

  “Never fucking better. I like your ride.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d driven a car. I had my license but had never had a need for a car in Boston with the subway.

  Dillon lightly slapped me on the arm. “I’m glad you’re out. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Let’s pay Duke a visit.” As much as I didn’t want to ruin the high I was on, I wanted answers.

  Dillon adjusted the air temp then started the engine. “Kelton warned you not to see our brother.”

  “I know.” But Duke had been on my mind since the Feds had shown up. I figured it was better to rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak.

  “Let’s talk to Kelton first,” Dillon said. “I’m sure he knows it will be impossible to keep you from seeing him.”

  “Can we stop by his office? I want to thank him.”