Chapter 27
SAINT
What in the actual fuck is Saxon thinking? Sending his little sister, my girl, into a situation with someone who could very well be the cause of, or at the very least, involved in, their father’s death? I love my best friend, but he must be losing his damn mind if he thinks sending Sage into this situation is a good idea. I’ve looked into Dante’s background again, trying to scan through everything possible and find anything that could be considered suspicious.
“Fuck!” I scream out in frustration. I’ve been sitting at the island for well over an hour now, but I can’t find anything.
“What’s got your panties in a twist, huh, big guy?” Frankie’s voice filters into the kitchen as he walks in and pulls out a water bottle.
“Nothing, just can’t figure out this background check,” I mumble, brushing my hands through my hair and leaning back in the barstool to ease the tension that’s been building in my back and shoulders. Footsteps come up beside me and bring my attention back.
“Who are you looking into?” I sigh and briefly give Frankie a condensed version of Sage’s upcoming date. I didn’t let slip about the body we discarded in the quarry. As much as I trust Frankie, Saxon and I have been adamant not to tell anyone about our secret plans to find out the real person who started the fire. All I divulge to him is Sage has a date with a man I don’t trust, and I’ve been looking into him. When I look up to meet Frankie’s eyes, he furrows his eyebrows just briefly before fixing his face and turning his back to me. Like I said, I trust Frankie, but what was that?
“Do you know the guy?” I ask, getting straight to the point. With his back still towards me, he responds, “Nah, I don’t think so. Thought I did, but it’s not the same guy.” He pulls his phone out and starts typing away. When he finally finishes, he turns back to me, a smile now spread across his face.
“Maybe you’re just being paranoid. Trust that Sage can handle herself. She’s a big girl.” He looks back down at his phone, sending off another quick text. “Listen, I got to go. Let Sax and Sage know I’ll be home if they need me.” With that, he leaves.
I can’t shake the feeling of unease Frankie gave me with our brief interaction earlier. I put that to the back of my mind the moment I hear Sage make her way down the stairs. Closing my laptop, I stand from my chair and meet her halfway. As I reached the foyer, I can’t help but stare at her as she descends the last few steps. My chest does this weird thing I’ve never felt before: it’s a similar sensation as someone knocking the wind out of me and that inability to catch a proper breath.
“Well, how do I look?” She spins around, her long, sleek black dress not even fanning out with her movement. No, her dress is plastered to her body, hugging every curve. I so desperately want to be the fabric against her skin. Her spaghetti straps sit delicately atop her shoulders, and the dip of her dress allows just enough cleavage to show, but not enough to be distracting. Hell, what am I saying? Her beauty is always distracting. Shit, what is Sage Wilder doing to me? I love it.
I don’t say anything, I just grab her by the waist mid-spin and pull her tight against my chest. Inhaling her sweet strawberry vanilla scent, I bury my face in the crook of her neck.
“There is not a word strong enough for how absolutely divine you look. However, I have to ask, why so dressed up for this punk? He doesn’t deserve to see you like this. Fuck, nobody does.” I can’t let her go; my arms remain around her waist, holding her steady as she stands on her tiptoes to reach my neck with her arms.
“Are you jealous, Saint?” Her tone is playful, but I am anything but playful at this moment. I’m not a jealous man; I’m simply protective, slightly obsessed, and utterly allured by all that is Sage. Okay, that sounds like it could be jealousy, but fuck it, whatever.
“Not jealous, just concerned. We don’t know this guy, and I’m not comfortable sending you in like an undercover agent or some shit.” I pull back to get a good look at her face. My chest does that weird thing again the moment her eyes meet mine, and I am starting to realize the hold this woman has over me. I would do anything, kill anyone, be anything she wants me to be just so she will smile at me the way she is now.
“I need to figure out who he is and what his connection is with the fire. If I can help in any way, I will. Plus, I’ll have you right outside waiting for me. I’m never really alone, am I?” She raises her eyebrow at me as if she’s known all along I’ve been watching her. If only she really knew.
“I’ll be right outside in my Tahoe.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a mic that she will wear during the date. “Here’s your newest accessory.” I lift it up to show her—a tiny circular pin that will fit on the inside of her dress, invisible to the naked eye.
“Gee, thanks. Can’t wait,” she says with every ounce of sarcasm she can muster. I help put the mic on her dress, and I can’t stop my knuckles from grazing over her smooth skin. My dick instantly begins to harden, but I need to remain focused.
“There, now I’ll be able to hear everything going on.” Fitting my earpiece in my ear, worry starts to bubble in my gut for her safety.
“Let’s go, or we’ll be late,” she says, turning around towards the door. Before she can even take a step away from me, I grab her arm and spin her back around. I crash my lips to hers in a searing kiss that instantly sparks heat in my core. She tastes so fucking good; all I want to do is carry her to my room and fuck the thought of any other man right out of her pretty little head.
Our kiss speaks volumes. We are desperate, like we both know this will have to end eventually. Deep and needy, our mouths consume one another, as if kissing isn’t enough. It isn’t. I always need more of her. I’m always wanting to feel the heat of her pussy wrapped around my cock. The sweetest moan slips past her lips, and I begin to crumble. She pulls away, her face flush, and her lip gloss completely absent from her now swollen lips.
“If we don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” She straightens her long hair and fixes her dress as she turns on her heels and heads for the door. I let her this time, grabbing the handle before she can and opening the door for her. She and Dante had decided on meeting at the restaurant instead of him picking her up. It was my idea. No need for this prick to know where she lives. Saxon agreed with me, so I’ll be following behind her Audi in my Tahoe and will be staking out in the parking lot.
We make it to the restaurant, and she gives me a quick mic check as she asks if I can hear her. I give her a thumbs up before she enters the restaurant, alone.
Stay in the Tahoe. You don’t intervene unless she says her keyword, purple, over the mic. Got it?
Saxon’s words fill my head, a reminder that I have to let Sage get as much information as possible, and if she feels threatened or as if she’s in danger, she has to say her keyword. Then I’m allowed to bust into the restaurant and retrieve my girl.
“Wow, you get even more beautiful each time I see you.” Dante’s deep, smooth voice fills my ear piece, and I snarl at the image of him greeting her. Is he hugging her, touching her, kissing her? Fuck, I will kill him. Keep it together, Saint.
“You’re too kind, thank you, and you’re looking handsome as ever.” Her response has my blood boiling.
“Your table for two is ready, Mr. Macari.” I assume the waiter is bringing them to their table; the sound of Sage’s heels is all I can hear. They go through the usual date conversation topics: How are classes? How’s work? I’m sorry for giving you a panic attack at the art exhibit . Your usual shit. But then Sage says something that has me sitting up straighter.
“How was your friend’s service? I’m so sorry to hear of your loss.” There is a brief silence, and a shuffling of glasses against the table.
“It was beautiful. He would have thought it was over the top, but it was a nice memorial for him and his family.” Another long silence. The sounds of plates being set on the table indicates their food has arrived.
“How long were you friends for?” Sage is wasting no time in trying to get information, and I smile to myself for her forwardness.
“We went to Berkeley together; he was my first friend in a new state after moving here from Florida. It was strange, though; he never had any enemies, or so I thought, and the day before he went missing, he was acting very strange. He kept saying he felt like he was being watched. Always on edge. I’m still so confused about the whole thing.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is a mere whisper, as if she truly feels sympathy for the guy. We found out a lot about Damien before we ended his pathetic life. He was the main culprit for locating the Wilder household and relaying that information to the next in line to carry out the plans for the horrific fire. So, Damien located the house, took this information up north to the two lowlifes we interrogated, who then struck the match that ultimately set the house ablaze.
We’ve been successful so far in following the trail and eliminating those along the way. However, we’ve yet to find the main perpetrator and mastermind in the murder of Mr. Wilder and the attempted murder of Sage. We are following the right track but still haven’t reached the finish line.
“Don’t be sorry, beautiful. It is what it is. We’ll find out what happened. It’s only a matter of time.” Dante spoke with such confidence in his statement, it made me feel a little uneasy. Who is this guy? My mind starts to kick into high gear, trying to decipher Dante and how he is connected with all this. As my mind races through all the knowledge I have of this man, his next question has everything coming to a fast halt.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get the scars on your hands?”
I freeze, awaiting Sage’s response and praying to God she doesn’t have another panic attack.