Page 39 of Secrets Unveiled

“You know, I shouldn’t be too surprised,” she finally says, ripping open the Saran Wrap on her sandwich and taking a small bite.

“What do you mean, not surprised?” I ask, doing the same to my sandwich. Chewing her bread, she speaks with her mouth full.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious the way he feels about you. Constantly watching over you, interrupting almost every date you’ve ever been on, and the way he looks at you… I mean, come on, girl. The way he looks at you.” She emphasizes her last statement before taking another bite of her sandwich. I impatiently wait for her to continue. However, she never does.

“How?! How does he look at me?” I finally ask, my sudden outburst making her jump in surprise. She hurriedly starts chewing and swallows her bite.

“You don’t see it? Jesus, Sage. The way he looks at you makes me believe in love at first sight. He makes me want that kind of love. The have you seen the way he looks at you? kind of love. You know what I mean?” I stare at my best friend for a moment, her eyes going off somewhere far away from here, as if she’s trying to manifest this type of love. I watch as her eyes drift further and further away, the pit of my stomach aching for her. I silently pray we both find that kind of love. I know Saint likes me, but does he really love me?

“Anyway.” She shakes herself out of the haze she was in and peers over my shoulder. Her eyes grow two sizes by the time I finally turn around to see what she’s looking at. If Ophelia’s eyes grow two sizes, mine must have quadrupled because it wasn’t a what that she saw, it was a who. Dante.

I told Ophelia everything about Dante, Saint, and my uncle; I couldn’t keep it from her any longer. Her shock at seeing Dante make his way over to us, dressed as if he were coming from another art exhibit, has her fingers fly over her cell phone screen. I know exactly who she’s texting, and I’m thankful for it, Saxon.I don’t know if I can truly trust the man. Then again, he didn’t have to tell me anything involving my father’s case, but he did.

“I just texted Saxon. Should we leave?” she asks, fear laced in every word she whispers. I shake my head. I should leave, but my curiosity and the slightly concerned look on Dante’s face have me staying.

“Ladies, it’s nice to see you again. Sage, may I have a quick word with you?” I look back at O, and she gives me a tentative look—a silent plea to stay put until Saxon gets here. Call me stupid, but my curiosity wins. I excuse myself from my best friend’s presence, and we make our way to a private patch of grass beneath a tree.

“This better be?—”

“Sage, listen to me.” He cuts me off, his demand a whisper of concern that has my stomach churning. “You and Saxon cannot trust your uncle.” I step back from Dante. Suddenly, his body is far too close for my liking.

“What are you talking about? What else has happened that you needed to come here to tell me that? You’ve already told me this.”

“Listen, I know your father was involved with Mayor Harrison’s wife. We know the police department has connections and resources that are being provided to the mayor, and we’ve been trying to weed out those involved with his less-than-legal business ventures.” He lifts his head and peeks around, seeing if anyone’s listening in, but we’re alone.

“Like it or not, your father had a huge target on his back with our agents and once he was murdered, we dove deeper. We found things we weren’t expecting. One being the affair he was having with Gloria and now this shit with the mayor and his ‘resources.’” Dante uses air quotes when saying resources, and it made him look oddly human. No more the cool, stoic, mysterious art connoisseur, but now the real, gritty, intelligent FBI agent.

“How is this all connected, then?” I ask, a migraine starting to prickle behind my eyes at this whole mess.

“What I’ve found out so far is your uncle may have a deeper friendship with Mayor Harrison than he’s letting on. It’s quite possible your uncle is responsible for helping the men who killed your father. We’ve received intel that something big is about to happen, but we are not one hundred percent sure what. At the moment, you and Saxon are not safe. I fear you’re currently being targeted.” The sound of the wind, the rustle of the trees, and the sound of Dante’s voice all start to grow muffled, as if I’d just dunked my head underwater. The air is suddenly too thick to inhale, and my skin is hot, as if I’d just stepped in front of a heater. Dante’s form is suddenly shrinking before my eyes.

It’s quite possible your uncle is responsible for helping the men who killed your father.

No, no, no, no. There’s no way Frankie was involved; no, this can’t be right.

“Sage, look at me. Sage.” Dante is talking. I can hear the faint, muted sounds of his voice while his hands rest on my shoulders, trying to snap me out of my soon-to-be panic attack. Then everything changes.

The squeal of tires and the unmistakable pop of three shots fill the air. Then I’m thrown to the ground. A heavy mass lies on top of me. The sudden darkness swirls around me.

“Stay down, Sage!” Dante yells from on top of me. His body is draped over mine as the unmistakable sound of gunshots pierces through the air. I close my eyes, covering my head with my hands as more shots are fired. Seconds feel like an eternity, but in reality, it was all of sixty seconds until silence falls around us.

“Dante? Dante?” He isn’t answering me. I try to lift him off me, but he’s too big. “Dante!” I scream as crimson liquid starts to pool around me, on top of me, on my hands, in my hair, down my neck. “Dante, wake up!” Scream after scream until footsteps come up beside me.

“Sage, are you okay?!” Ophelia is next to me, her cries frantic as she tries to push Dante off me. After a few tries and working together, we are able to roll Dante off me. A loud thud makes bile rise in my throat as I peer down at the now lifeless body of Dante. Blood is all over him. His eyes are closed without the slightest bit of movement coming from his form.

“Oh God,” Ophelia cries, covering her mouth as she drops to her knees. “He’s dead.” Her cries grow louder and louder. The sound becoming unbearable. I cover my ears and close my eyes as if I could magically teleport somewhere, anywhere but here. I sit there beside Ophelia, hoping and praying this is all a dream, and I am going to wake up any minute.

But I never do.

“Sage! Are you hurt? For fuck’s sake, look at me, Sage!” When I open my eyes, my brother is standing in front of me, his onyx-black eyes staring at me, waiting for a response. He pulls my hands from my ears and examines me for any injuries, but I am fine. Not even a scratch from where Dante threw me to the ground.

“Answer me. Are you hurt?” he asks again. I shake my head rapidly before looking back to the ground where Dante lies. Saint is there, checking his pulse, and I notice the deep black and blue bruises across his jaw and cheek. A deep gash slits across his eyebrow, and he has a puffy lip with dried blood crusting his mouth.

“Saint!” I say, kneeling down and cupping his face. “What happened?” He doesn’t look at me. No, he looks over me—towards Saxon. I follow his gaze and look down to see Saxon’s knuckles look just as bad as Saint’s face.

“Did you two get in a fight?!” I blurt out, looking back at Saint, who’s now released my hands from his face and stood, leaving me kneeling on the ground.

“We’ll talk about this later. We need to go. Now.” Saxon says, his tone a command, not a request. “Ophelia, ride with Saint back to the club. Sage, you’re coming with me. You can shower at the club.”

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