Chapter 9
ETHAN
I t all happens so fast. One second I’m about to get in my car and go home, the next I hear Dante yelling my name, and then he’s pushing me to the ground so hard that my shoulders creak when they hit the concrete.
His hands and arms shield my head and neck, and his broad shoulders and chest protect my body.
I have no idea what’s happening, even as I hear the single loudest noise I’ve ever heard in my entire life.
It takes me a moment or two to realize that something has exploded.
It’s not like in the movies.
The sound is so piercing that after the first couple seconds I can’t hear it as the pressure in my ears builds.
I can feel the heat, though, mostly on the sides of my body, and see the bright light of fire and sparks through my eyelids as I turn my head.
The ground underneath me is vibrating, or maybe that’s just my body shaking.
Dante speaks above me.
I can hardly understand him. He sounds muffled, like everything else.
I feel weirdly calm, even though I’m trembling.
No, not calm…numb.
Finally, I process what Dante has said. He’s asking if I’m okay, but something is wrong. His body has gone limp on top of mine.
I open my eyes and look at him.
He’s unconscious.
Everything suddenly comes into focus. I can hear the fire roaring in my ears and the sound of footsteps running over.
“Dante, fuck, motherfucker!” a voice very similar to Dante’s shouts over the noise.
My fingers curl into Dante’s shirt and jacket, and I try to slowly push him off me. Before I can do that, the yelling man comes into view and grabs him, rolling him onto his back.
I gasp as my burning car comes into view. There are pieces of it scattered everywhere, but mostly the driver’s seat and side door are fucked up. That’s right where I would have been…if it weren’t for Dante.
I don’t understand how this has happened or why, but it doesn’t matter right now. Dante is injured; he must be.
I sit up quickly, feeling no pain at all as numbness settles over my whole body.
“Is he breathing?” I ask, moving to feel his chest and neck.
“God, fuck, why does he have to get into this shit?” the man asks as he leans down as well.
Sirens blare through the sound of the fire.
“He’s breathing,” I say, and feel his pulse. “Pulse is high.”
“No fucking kidding.”
Dante suddenly jolts awake with a gasp.
“Hold on,” I try to say, but he sits up quickly, his eyes wide.
I put a hand on his chest.
“Holy shit,” he says through ragged breaths.
“It’s fine. Ambulances are coming,” I explain.
The man on the other side of Dante laughs. I finally look up at him. His hair is a totally different color than Dante’s, but he has the same eyes and their faces are similar.
“Fuck that.” Dante coughs. “I’m fine. A little banged-up, that’s all.”
“You might have shrapnel inside of you,” I disagree. “You should see a doctor.”
“You should see a doctor,” he hisses at me.
“Come on, get up, both of you,” the other man says.
I grab Dante’s wrist. “He needs a doctor,” I demand. “And who are you?”
“Oh. Hi, I’m Marco Romano, Dante’s brother,” the redheaded man says with an unamused look on his face. “Now can you get up off the fucking ground?”
I blink. His brother.
I slowly push up from the concrete and grab Dante’s wrist. He gets up with a huff and takes a deep breath.
A police car pulls into the lot.
“Damnit,” Dante mumbles. “Marco, can you handle ’em?”
“Yeah, I got it. Looks like Silva’s on shift tonight. I’ll explain everything,” Marco agrees.
I look between them. “We’re not all going to talk to them?”
Dante grabs my hand. “No. We’re getting out of here before someone tries to blow your ass up again.”
Despite not agreeing with leaving before being able to talk to the police and be taken to the hospital, I find myself going with him anyway. My feet seem to have a mind of their own.
“So I was the target?” I ask as Dante opens the passenger door of an unfamiliar car parked in the middle of the lot.
“Duh,” he says, clearly irritated.
“Who targeted me?” I ask, not getting in yet. My eyes shift over to Marco, who’s talking to several police officers and EMTs.
“Get in the fucking car, Ethan,” Dante growls at me.
The sound of his voice sends a shiver down my spine and into my groin. I slide into the passenger seat of the car and put the seatbelt on.
Dante gets into the driver’s side.
“Are you sure you should be driving?” I eye him, seeing blood on his neck and knuckles as he grabs the steering wheel.
“The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m going to blow the heads off some motherfuckers,” Dante says through his teeth as he pulls out of the parking lot so fast it nearly gives me whiplash.
I hold myself more firmly in my seat and take a deep breath.
The numb feeling is starting to go away, little by little.
My pulse starts to race, but I try to ignore it.
“Who?” I ask.
“You don’t wanna know,” he insists.
Now I’m the one huffing in frustration. “I was the one they tried to kill, so I’d like to know who exactly they are.”
Dante speeds down the road, much too fast for my liking, and I hold on to the chest strap of my seatbelt for comfort.
“Doesn’t matter right now. I just need to get you somewhere safe,” he replies.
“Where?”
He doesn’t answer.
I decide not to bother with asking any more questions. I’m still trembling, and suddenly the realization of what happened hits me. My knees bounce, and I go over it again and again in my mind.
My hand on the door handle.
The beeping.
Dante crashing into me.
Being pushed into the ground and covered, guarded, protected .
My eyes burn with tears, and I try to hold them back. All the lights are blurry as we fly past them and my vision grows cloudy.
I’m not sure how long we’re in the car, fifteen minutes at most perhaps, but finally we pull up to a house that seems to be on the edge of town.
It’s a small, unsuspecting building with a one-car garage, two stories, and a wooden front porch with a swing on it.
I’m not sure why, but as I stare out the window at it, that swing is what I decide to focus on.
Dante gets out of the car, and I see him brush his fingers through his hair as he crosses in front and then opens my door.
“Come on,” he says quietly.
I listen, unbuckling my seatbelt and following him inside even though my legs feel like Jell-O. Anxiety is heavy in my chest, and there’s something else there, too…something that makes my throat tight and my body feel heavy.
“You alright?” Dante asks as we get to the stairs.
I put a hand on the railing and nod.
“Let’s get inside.” He puts his arm around my back, and I feel his hand slide to my lower back. It ignites a heat there, one that contradicts everything else I’m feeling in this moment.
Dante leads me up the stairs and unlocks the door before guiding me inside. He flicks on a light at the entrance of the hallway. The perfectly bland, standard suburban house greets me.
“What is this?” I ask him quietly.
Once we’re both inside, I hear him close and lock the door.
“A safe house,” he replies. “You’ll be safe here while we get this shit sorted out.”
“Are you going to explain ‘this shit?’” I turn to look at him.
Dante’s face is scratched, his dark hair a sweaty mess around his face. I suddenly forget about the why and how of it all.
“You’re bleeding,” I whisper, and step closer to him. I lift a hand and brush my fingers along the blood at the side of his neck where he must’ve gotten hit with debris.
“It’s nothing,” he insists.
“Let’s sit down.” I grab his hand and walk farther down the hallway, looking to the left, expecting a living room but finding a kitchen instead.
To the right is the living room—small and quaint, with a deep brown leather couch with several flannel throw blankets as the main star of the room.
Everything else fades from my mind right now.
“Let me see your eyes,” Dante tells me as we sit down. He turns on a small orange-tinted lamp on the side table nearby.
“What?” I ask.
He scoots closer to me and puts one of his hands on the side of my face.
His stormy gaze looks directly into mine, and for the first time since we met, I actually let myself stare back.
I finally notice just how beautiful his eyes are—the depth of the blue color, flecks of gold and silver, a slight hint of green.
My stomach tingles and I tilt my face into his touch.
“How do you feel?” he asks. His voice is quiet, but still a bit harsh. I don’t mind it.
“Fine,” I lie.
My trembling lip betrays me.
Dante scoots in closer. “If you’re hurtin’ you gotta tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t let me.” His voice deepens. “Tell me, Ethan.”
My tears are growing too heavy for my eyes, and they threaten to spill over.
“I’m scared,” I blurt out. “Oh, my God. I could have died.”
Dante’s fingers curl against my face and his expression darkens.
“I won’t let you.”
“Why?” I ask him. “Why did you do this for me? You could have died. Dante, you could have fucking died for me!” I grab his shoulders.
“I don’t know why, but I think I’d do anything for you,” he admits. “Whether or not you ever admit how you feel.”
My heart squeezes. The room feels like it’s spinning.
“I broke up with Lena,” I tell him, the words spilling out of my mouth before I can think about them.
He blinks at me. “What?”
“After I kissed you. I needed some time, but I broke up with her,” I admit. “You were right. I wasn’t being honest with myself. I still…I don’t know what to call it, but…”
I lean closer to him and lean my forehead against his. His is so much hotter than mine, and I feel his breath against my chin and lips.
“I’m the reason you almost died tonight,” Dante tells me. “An enemy of my family planted that bomb in your car because they saw us together. They know I’m interested in you.”
I hold onto him tighter, curling my fingers into the shoulders of his leather jacket.