Page 32 of Secrets Unveiled

“It’s funny. I’ve lived here my whole life and have never seen your studio before, or you for that matter.” Okay, this time my tone is a little more suspicious. It’s true, though. I’ve always been in the art community and have never seen his studio, nor him. Golden Heights is a large town, but I feel as though I would have noticed this man or at the very least seen him around.

“Nothing gets past you. Does it, Sage?” There is a weird shift in his tone when he says my name this time. It’s lower, deeper, and menacing. It gives me a nervous feeling in the pit of my gut.

“I’m just what people would call observant,” I counter. The hard edges of his face and penetrating gaze hold me captive as he tilts his head to the side, inspecting me, or rather, waiting for me to continue. But I don’t. I hold his gaze. I’m hoping to make him feel as uncomfortable as I was fast becoming.

“My studio is rather new, only available to the public upon invitation. Similar to the one I gave you and your plus one. Ophelia, was it? Pretty name.”

Okay, this conversation is going from sincere and innocent to calculating and prying. What is this sudden shift of personality with him? I can’t figure him out, but there is something telling me to press on, to drill him for more. This is my chance to help find my father’s murderer.

“Tell me more about your family. I met your brother and his friend at the club. What kind of person was your father? Luther, was it?” My skin heats in an instant. My father’s name rolls off his tongue like an old friend, or enemy. I can feel my cheeks heat as my blood rushes to my face and chest.

“How do you know his name?” I ask, my tone flat. I don’t recall ever mentioning my father’s name to him.

“You told me when you were explaining your scars.”

“No, I don’t believe I did. So, enlighten me, Dante. How do you know my father’s name?” A long pause passes; a silent battle rages between us to see who will break eye contact first. I’m not letting up. My father is a sacred subject for me and anyone who dares speak his name is a threat to me, to my family, and to the club. An evil smile briefly touches his lips, causing me to inhale a calming breath to help me remain composed.

“Ah, I see. Well, I must have heard it in the paper after the fire. It was reported on, wasn’t it?”

“It was, but his first name was never mentioned. They referred to him as Mr. Wilder. No mention of a first name for him or myself. So, stop making excuses, please, and tell me the truth.” My skin is red-hot. I am surprised I can keep a cool tone at this point. I know without a shadow of a doubt this man has to be connected to my father’s murder in some way, shape, or form.

“Well, I feel the air between us has shifted a bit, and?—”

“Sage, sweetheart. I need you to come home immediately, please. It’s an emergency.” I jerk my head to the side as a pair of hands lift me from my chair and assist in grabbing my bag.

“Frankie, what are you doing here?” I ask in a hushed tone. What the fuck was going on?

“Are the boys okay? What’s going on?” No answer. Frankie isn’t even looking at me. Instead, he pins Dante to his chair with a glare that could make someone internally combust.

“Frankie, long time no see, old friend. How are you?” Dante says, making me stop in my tracks.

“You know my uncle?” I ask, confusion making my head hurt.

“Oh, we go way back. Don’t we, Frankie?” His tone is condescending, and it puts me even more on edge than I was before.

“Officer Macari. Yes, it’s been a long time.”

“Officer Macari? You’re a cop?!” I practically yell, the whole restaurant now starting to shift their attention to our table.

“Sage, let’s go. I’ll explain later,” Frankie whispers to me, but I am tired of being confused and left in the dark, and I’m not going anywhere until I get answers.

“No, I want to know now. Please, Officer Macari, explain to me how you know my uncle?” I wanted to punch the smug little expression off Dante so bad, but assaulting an officer didn’t seem like the right idea in a public place, or in any place, for that matter.

“Ah, what a shame Frankie never mentioned me. We were close for a while, back in the day.” My head snaps to Frankie, who is still looking at Dante as if praying he would disappear. “I was the federal agent assigned to your family’s fire, or should I say, the horrific murder of your father.” My heart races with this new information and answers the question I’ve wanted to know the answer to since that fateful day. The feds never truly believed it was an accident either. Had they been investigating this the whole time without my knowledge? Why?

“So, tell me, why don’t I know you personally then, if you’re the agent assigned to my family? I feel like we should be well acquainted since I, for one, was involved in the fire as well.” Dante’s eyes shift to Frankie, and I follow his line of sight.

“I’ll leave that up to your uncle to explain. It’s been a nice night, Ms. Wilder. I hope we can do it again sometime.” Dante stands from his chair, tosses cash on the table, and leaves me and my uncle standing alone in a restaurant full of people who are still watching us with utter shock. I’m not ending the night like this. Fuck no. I am going to get my answers, and I am going to get them right fucking now.

SAGE

I follow Dante out of the restaurant, my uncle spewing some nonsense behind me as he follows close on my heels. The moment I burst through the restaurant doors, I spot Dante unlocking his all-black BMW in the parking lot.

“Dante!” I yell to him, my voice carrying across the lot. He doesn’t stop. He keeps fidgeting with his keys, but when I yell his name again and push his car door shut, I know I finally have his attention.

“I wasn’t finished. What do you mean you know Frankie? I want to know right now.” Dante licks his bottom lip and annoyance finally rears its ugly face.

“Did you really think the feds believed your case was an accident? Who told you that, by the way?” I look at Frankie and am surprised that Saint is now standing beside him, anger evident by the crease between his eyes. I turn back to Dante.

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