Page 4 of The Saint

Minutes later, the sounds of the woods diminished once more as a motor and voices raced toward us. Zeno Fierro, one of D’Angelo’s lieutenants, hopped off a motorized cart with my other brothers in tow. Aviram, Yosef, Paz, and Eytan rushed forward, grabbing pieces of the tree and cutting and hauling it away, off Rolly and me. Zeno rolled Rolly onto his back on a stretcher, fixing a brace around his neck before checking me over. Once I was cleared, my brothers helped carry Rolly to the cart while I stood stuck by Arik’s side.

“You okay, little sister?” Arik asked, voice quiet as we watched Rolly’s stretcher get loaded on the back of the cart.

I nodded my assurance, but there were no words to accompany them. Nothing I could say to give voice to my lie.

My world was shaken.

I’d kissed my best friend.

And as those blue eyes watched me, disappearing across the wide-open field toward the house, I knew, my life would never be the same.

2

ROLLY

Present

A body slammed into mine as the twang of the basketball rang across the court. Hands reached in, trying to snag the ball from my grip. I held fast. Raised it above my head, faked a shot, spun, then tossed it up. Whoops and hollers called out, hands slapping against hands as the ball fell through the hoop. But there wasn’t time to celebrate.

Jorges grabbed the ball and raced to the top of the court. Reggie checked it, then Jorges tossed it to Tyrone. The man was a beast, driving toward the basket without concern for those around him. A bull ready to run straight though anyone stupid enough to stand in his way.

Like me.

It was fucking stupid of me to not move. His prospects were so high, we’d seen NBA scouts chomping at the bit to have a chance to shake his hand alongside our little court.

And then there was me.

Four months removed from a bullet to the chest that almost ended my life.

It felt like I was impaled as Tyrone rammed his shoulder into mine. As he jumped toward the basket, I fell down.

I hit the cement so hard, it felt like I’d fallen from the top of the old oak tree in my parents’ backyard. The pain from the collision with Tyrone had nothing on my landing on the court.

Breath knocked from my lungs.

Vision sparking red as my ears rang like the highest choir bell’s chime.

The heavy thud of the music pumping out of the speaker at the edge of the court was suddenly quieter than the pulsing beat of my heart.

Over the ringing in my ears and my thumping pulse, I could just make out Reggie’s voice, muffled as if I was listening underwater. “Ah, man, we ain’t never gonna win against Tyrone.”

“You sure you ain’t on his team?” Dion asked. “Sure looked like it, the way you just rolled over and let him make that last basket?”

Pushing my hand into the ground beside my head, I rolled onto my back. Air returned to my lungs in fragments, the pain in my shoulder trickling away like ice melting on skin. The summer sun gloated from the sky, the heat licking at the sweat upon my brow.

I squeezed my eyes shut and a murmur of voices permeated my brain, along with the sounds of the city beyond our little court.

“What’s wrong with this pussy?” one of the guys asked, nudging me with the tip of a shoe.

The sun’s harsh light was blotted out, heat of a different kind pressed against my side.

“You all right?”

I nodded, still gripping my chest. I cracked an eyelid, peeking out.

Tyrone.

Knowing eyes caught mine, a grim set to his face. Of everyone here at the court, he was the only one that knew.