Blind World (The Onyx Fox Saga Book 1)

by H. M. Rutherford

  He squinted his dark eyes a bit, pondering. “No fires for a while,” he explained. “Most of these days have been just exercising and listening for the phone. Had to change a few smoke alarm batteries, pull a cat from a tree.”

  She frowned, knowing how much he liked that accomplished feeling of putting out an inferno of flames. And she half-wished there would be a fire somewhere—but a little one, of course, with no lives at risk. Who wouldn’t want to brag about their boyfriend being a hero? “I’m sorry,” she replied. “What if they have one tonight?”

  “So what if they did?” he asked. “I wouldn’t miss our five-year anniversary for the world! Besides,” he added, “I already told them all I won’t be going in; they have to deal with it tonight.”

  Her eyes fell to the floorboard, feeling a bit silly. What was she thinking, hoping there would be a fire? That would mean no date.

  When the car stopped, they got out and walked into the pizzeria, hand in hand, and stopped by the hostess’s podium. Suzette felt a rush of joy as she entered, memories of their first date rushing back to her. Walking through those doors once a year for the past five years only got better and better.

  A waitress met them and they recognized her instantly from their church. “Hey you guys!” Gabby squealed in delight.

  “Hey!” Suzette chuckled back kindly, strained.

  “How many years is this?” Gabby prodded, her eyes sparkling at Dante. She sounded happy, but her unctuous smile indicated otherwise.

  “Fifth,” Suzette said pointedly, flashing the same insincere smile.

  A fire sparked in Gabby’s eyes and her smile grew tighter. “Great!” she laughed through her plastered-on smirk.

  Dante grinned at her, though it looked more like a wince. “Yep,” he answered shortly.

  “Well, right this way!” She beamed, leading them to a booth.

  As they sat down, Gabby jumped right into taking their order. Suzette swore she prolonged that as much as she could. The whole time Gabby kept trying to add things in, insisting on better deals and so on, using the occasion to flutter her eyelashes, twirl her hair, and giggle insanely. She was only two years older than Suzette, but by her desperate attempt to get anything from Dante, it seemed a far cry from the truth. And how’s that working out for you? Suzette wanted to say.

  Poor Dante just sat there, put in their whole order with not so much as a smile, rejecting anything else.

  Gabby even kept trying when she came back with the drinks, radiating with each of his “thank you’s,” like he had professed undying love for her.

  Wow, way to be desperate, Suzette thought.

  As Suzette watched her handsome boyfriend sit there and reject a pretty—albeit, immature—girl like the waitress, she was once again bewildered at the thought of Dante and her. Dante was such a looker. He was tall with a thin but strong frame, nicely tanned Italian skin, charming features, wispy, black hair, and those eyes—oh, those charcoal eyes that could light a fire in any girl. He was like a statuesque image of a young Greek god. Suzette? More like a spritely little thing—short, pale, freckled, and, well…often overlooked. At least when standing next to Dante of all people. She was not her ideal match for him. But he seemed happy, and so she was…content with that.

  When Gabby left, Dante smiled at Suzette and said, “My mom still keeps trying to get you over and show you how an Italian makes pizza.”

  Suzette overemphasized a sigh, slumping her shoulders. “Aw, but what would you do without Gabby?”

  His eyes bulged a little and he looked sideways, fighting a smile. “Sorry about that, Suz.”

  She shrugged and dramatically rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “You’re just too hot, Dante. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. I can’t take you anywhere.”

  He blushed and looked down, like he usually did when she made such a comment. He never knew what to say to her teasing—never knew how to joke back.

  “And now she’s going to spit in my pizza because you’re just too hot to handle.”

  His head shot up. “All the more reason for us to have my mom make us pizza next time!” He had a hard time speaking through his hushed laughter.

  She laughed back. “But I’ve had your mom’s cooking before.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I keep telling her,” he explained. “But she knows it’s our anniversary and she wants everyone to be a big, happy family or something. I-I don’t know.” He waved his hand in the air and then ran it through his smooth black hair. “Weird Italian mom things, I guess. Don’t ever tell her I said this, but you’d probably make an even better pizza, anyway.”

  Suzette laughed, bringing her elbow up to the table. As she did, she watched from her peripheral vision as her elbow knocked the side of her cup. Gasping, she snatched it up before it could topple over, but it didn’t stop some of the contents from sloshing out.

  Wide-eyed, Dante huffed, “Geez, great reflexes. Where’d you get ‘em?”

  “No idea,” she grumbled, a little embarrassed. “Ex-cop dad, maybe? I guess that’s what I get for trying to be unladylike.” She made a goofy face at him. “I don’t know how you’ve put up with me all this time.”

  He chuckled and leaned back, quiet as usual.

  Suzette twiddled her thumbs under the table, wondering what he was thinking. Like usual, no amount of asking would give an indication; he would answer, “Nothing,” and move back into silence. But it was okay. He was happy.

  —

  “Did you like the movie?” Suzette asked, kicking pebbles up as she walked. She pulled Dante along behind her as they made their way through the park, the moon shining through the trees, the crickets softly chirping.

  He swung their entwined hands. “It was pretty good. What did you think?”

  Suzette thought about the futuristic storyline of the man who had faked his death, became a hero, and saved the world within a matter of a two-hour movie. Not Dorian Gray’s best film. “I don’t know,” she mumbled, flipping it around in her mind. “I think it totally sucked.”

  He chuckled. “What? You picked the movie!”

  They neared the end of the trees and strolled up the large, cobbled bridge. Suzette released his hand and darted toward the stone railing. There, she climbed up and started walking across, holding her hands out on either side for balance.

  “Whoa, hey!” Dante hurried up beside her, keeping a hand extended toward her.

  She stopped in the middle of the gargantuan bridge and stared down into the dark, deep waters of the river below, a low gurgle coming up from the unpredictable tides. “I don’t think I understand why he faked his death.”

  “To keep his family safe,” Dante answered, gently grabbing her leg. “At least, that’s what it seemed like. There were threats against them, remember?”

  “Doesn’t make sense to me. He wasn’t much of a hero anyway.” She didn’t really like Dorian Gray, but she would rather watch an action movie than a romance any day. She shook her head and stared down into Dante’s alluring, black eyes. “But thank you for taking me.”

  He stared up at her fondly. “Of course.”

  She grinned and continued walking along the railing, his hand gently following every movement as it kept a gentle grip on her. Her foot came down on a wobbly stone and her ankle buckled out. She flailed her arms out in circles as she teetered over the rushing water.

  Dante’s arm wrapped around her leg and he gripped her hand with his free one. But she had already steadied herself.

  She looked down at him with wide eyes and gave an airy laugh. “That was close,” she said with a chuckle. “Thanks for saving me, Stud.”

  Dante found nothing comical about it. He groaned and snatched her up off the railing, spinning her so fast that her bright yellow skirt twirled wildly. Then he set her down on her feet, though he kept his hands on her waist, drawing her close as they stood under the lamplight. “Let’s not do that again,” he huffed.

  She knew he’d get over it. “Are you go
ing back to work tomorrow?” she asked instead.

  “After church.” He smiled, but as soon as it was on his face, it was gone. “Though I don’t have to go into the station tomorrow, if you want. They already know what’s going on.”

  She looked down and played with the collar of his shirt, getting a little closer. “No, I should probably call that lab and start asking questions,” she mumbled.

  “Call Frankie, you mean?” he pressed lightly. “He won’t mind meeting with you.”

  She stiffened a little but forced a smile, pushing it aside quickly. “Yeah, of course.” When she looked back up, she made sure it was from under her long eyelashes.

  As expected, she saw that small crooked smile form on his face—the one she loved. His thoughts of the strained relationship between his girlfriend and his brother disappeared. Gently, he began leaning in.

  As she closed her eyes, Suzette could feel his hot breath on her lips. She gripped tightly onto his shirt as she waited for their lips to meet. When they came down, she melted into them, drawing on his warmth, her knees growing wobbly underneath her.

  That’s when her mom’s ringtone went off.

  Suzette’s heart fell at the sound, but Dante kept going, undeterred. As the chime continued, she groaned and started to step back until he finally got the hint. He let her go, chuckling once. Then he reeled away as she reached into her purse and miserably pulled out her cell phone.

  “Yes, mother?” she asked sardonically.

  “Just called to remind you to hurry back,” her mom said in that typical, cheerful way. “We have church tomorrow.”

  Her mother’s peppy mood made her want to throw herself over the bridge, but Suzette whispered respectably, “Yes ma’am. I love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetie!” she cheered. Then she hung up.

  Sighing, Suzette set her phone back in her purse.

  “Time to go?” Dante teased.

  “Yes,” she grumbled, disappointed.

  He laughed and pulled her close again, leaning down. “One more.”

  She giggled and popped up onto her tiptoes. There, she planted as many kisses as it took to satisfy him. Then they took each other’s hands and walked to the car.

  Dante took her home and stopped in the driveway. “Goodbye,” he whispered. “Love you, babe.”

  “Love you too,” she muttered back.

  Leaning over, he gave her a soft kiss and pulled back.

  Blushing happily, she stepped out of the car and up to the door, where her father was waiting, eyeing the area suspiciously as his old cop habits ceased to die away.

  When Dante saw that she was safe next to her father, he pulled out and drove away.

  “Did you have a good time, honey?” asked her dad, closing the door behind them.

  “I did,” she answered with a smile. She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek as she ran straight past him and up the stairs.

  Once she was ready, she slipped into bed and pulled the covers up over her. Lying there, content, staring up at the darkness before her, she couldn’t help but smile and think of Dante, about the first time she had seen him.

  She had been the new girl at the church. It had been hard to fit in with the youth at only thirteen; everyone had already had a best friend to hang on to. Homeschooling had not helped her cause either. It had been her first day and she had felt like she was going to burst from embarrassment.

  But that’s when she had felt that gentle tap on her shoulder.

  Fourteen-year-old Dante Stein had stood there, flashing that heart-throbbing smile. She remembered the way he had looked at her. No boy had ever looked at her like that before. It had been a feeling of which she had never wanted to let go. The most handsome boy in the whole building had singled her out to talk to. She had felt so baffled, so lucky. He was so kind and respectful. So easy to talk to, yet so intimidating a presence.

  That was when she had known she was meant to be with Dante.

  —

  Frank held on to his wife, Liza’s, elbow, and together they stepped up to the Jekyll Manor doors, dressed sharply for the occasion. As the men at the great doors reached for the knobs, Frank began to panic and glanced down at his suit, scrutinizing it for any faults. His superiors were waiting inside; a piece of lint or a crooked bow tie would not do. He felt so unsettled.

  Liza, disinterested in his antics as usual, stepped back and straightened his bow tie. “You always look absolutely fabulous to me, honey.” Her bright green eyes didn’t even bother to scan over the rest of him.

  Frank sighed. His wife’s encouragement was always welcomed and appreciated, but sometimes he wanted an honest, unbiased opinion. Liza was stunning, being tall, thin, and with a strong face and thick blonde hair. He hoped that the men would be so distracted with her that they wouldn’t bother noticing any flaws in him. Though Liza wouldn’t have let him leave the house if it meant making her look like a fool. Part of him felt better knowing he looked decent, but another part still felt worried, though he couldn’t tell why. Nonetheless, he linked elbows with Liza and stared into the wide-open doors where music drifted out on the wind and over the crowd. All the finely dressed men and women were laughing, drinking, and intermingling with each other.

  “Here we go, babe,” Frank muttered through the side of his mouth as he forced a smile on his face. Together, they stepped through the doors and let them close behind them.

  “It’s just Henry,” she reminded him in a hushed manner. “What are you so worried about?”

  Try as he may, Frank didn’t quite know the answer to that question. Instead, he just cleared his throat and continued smiling through tight teeth. All he could do was worry over what Henry might do to embarrass himself in front of everyone—and what Frank would have to do to clean up the mess. What if Henry was walking around in a robe and slippers? Wouldn’t be the first time. Frank sighed.

  “There you are!”

  The couple looked over to the noise.

  Henry stood with a group of high-class men, a drink in one hand, grinning at his dear friend. Frank recognized most of the people around his friend as well-to-do scientists. Henry patted a few of the men on their backs, shook their hands, laughed heartily at what one was saying, then kindly pushed past them and embraced Frank. “Glad you could make it,” he chuckled, pulling away.

  “Of course,” Frank laughed back. He couldn’t help but feel relieved. “I always come.”

  “And it’s always a delight to have you!” Henry went on. Cupping his hand on Frank’s shoulder, he pulled Frank toward the group of men. “Now, come unwind—have a drink!”

  As he spoke, a server came up and offered a tray of champagne.

  Frank smiled a bit and took a swig. Though his heart felt at ease by the sight of his apparently stable friend, something deep continued to stir within him, leaving him not in a drinking mood. Frank held out the champagne to Liza.

  “Go on and have it, Frankie,” she cooed. “You deserve it.”

  “I don’t want it,” he answered, his hand extended in the air. He knew he couldn’t—not with Henry so happy, so prone to the alcohol.

  Her lips pouted a bit but she took the drink. “Alright,” she replied, drinking it for him, no doubt pleased to pass off the designated driver responsibility to her husband.

  Frank smiled again and looked up at the chortling group, interjecting himself into the circle. It was clear that he had missed the punchline, but he laughed with them anyway. As they continued in conversation, each contributing a bit, they laughed harder and harder until he grew uncomfortable. He felt relieved when someone decided to change the subject.

  “So, how did you get this manor?” one of them asked.

  “Oh, well, family inheritance,” Henry answered honestly. “Well, that’s only part of it. The rest comes from my own scientific advances.”

  “So, your parents were loaded?” another repeated.

  Henry smiled and held up his drink. “Of course! Goes to show how many advance
s I’ve made, huh?”

  Laughter burst from the group.

  Frank found no humor in it, knowing how much of an impact the subject had on his friend. He assumed it was only their tipsiness that put them in such high spirits; there was nothing funny about the ‘joke’. Maybe Henry had managed to invite all pompous guests this time and that was why he was playing that angle. Or maybe it was Henry’s amazing ability to be an excellent host when he was medicated that lifted them up. Frank wanted very much so to join in their merriment, to celebrate his friend, but he knew he would have to be the responsible one; Henry would have trouble even standing before the night was out.

  After a few minutes, someone declared the auction to begin. Everyone shuffled to the seats in the next room—all except for Henry, who leaned against the door in the back, happy holding yet another drink. Once the process had begun, no one had a problem offering their paddle to the air. On more than one occasion, Frank even had to keep his own wife from raising their number. They weren’t rich like these people. Her eyes were especially drawn to anything from Lady Augustine, which was more likely jewelry of some sort.

  While he gently tugged the number out of his wife’s reluctant hand and set it on his lap, a strange vibe in his chest made him hesitate. Frank turned and glanced back at his friend.

  Henry was looking at a wrinkled piece of paper, covered in folding creases. He laughed quietly to himself and stared at it, his eyes glimmering with a maniac joy. Quaffing deeply, Henry chuckled a bit and fumbled around until he managed to slip the small rectangle into the front pocket of his suit.

  It’s just a piece of paper. Even in the face of such a harmless fact, Frank could once again sense that something peculiar was in the air. It was in the strange excitement in Henry’s presence. When their eyes met, Henry seemed too intoxicated to focus. Ever hopeful, Frank gave him the look of a silent question and waited to see his answer.