“Neither do I,” I told him, the memory of him calling me by my full name for the first time clear in the front of my mind.
“Are you in on this?” he asked again.
“You should eat,” I said.
“Don’t have much of an appetite.”
“I brought you into my home. I saved your life. Iwashedyou.” I swallowed thickly, narrowing my eyes. “The least you can do is eat…and talk.”
“How do you know my name?” he asked, hooking a finger through the handle of the mug in front of him and pulling it closer. He stared down into it with a small frown, but then raised it to his mouth and took a small drink to test the temperature.
“How do you knowmyname?” I turned his question back to him. “How did you know where I live?”
“Would you believe I followed you home?” Sage arched a brow at me.
“No.”
“Found your wallet?” he tried.
I shook my head.
“I ran your name,” he finally said.
“Through what?” I asked.
“A system.”
The corner of my eye twitched and I hoped he didn’t notice it. There was only one system that would have the name Foster Thomas Golden, and I had no idea how Sandro Rosetti had gotten his hands on it.
“One you’re not supposed to have access to,” I said.
“Probably not.” He smirked and shrugged, setting down his mug and plucking a potato chip off the plate. “What time is it, Golden? What day is it?”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“What day?”
“Monday now,” I said.
Sage closed his eyes. “I lost a day.”
“You lost a lot more than a day.” My stare moved toward the kitchen floor where I’d spent hours on my hands and knees early Saturday morning, scrubbing his blood from the grout.
Sage crunched on a chip and swallowed.
“So you ran my name through a system and got my address. Now tell me how you knew my name in the first place.” I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest.
“I heard it mentioned,” he answered.
“You playing hard to get with me now?”
Sage tilted his head to the side, clearly unappreciative of my tone. “Don’t think that just because you took my gun off me when I fell through your front door I can’t fucking kill you.”
I flicked the safety off and raised my gun, leveling it and pointing it right at his face. “Someone almost took you out with a fucking blade, Sandy. From where I’m sitting, I’m not worried about what this gun can do to you.”
“My name isn’t Sandy.”
I racked the slide and rested my finger on the trigger. “I’ll call you what I want.”
