“I’m the only one who has them,” he said. “For now.”
“Sharp.”
“Call him.” Sharp stood up and I jumped, sucking in a rough breath and shaking my head.
“Sorry.”
“Call him,” he said again. “I’m going to help myself to a drink in your kitchen.”
“Not that Rosetti Red bottle,” I warned, swiping my phone screen awake. “I keep meaning to dump it.”
Sharp laughed. “You don’t like your little boyfriend’s wine?”
“The Chianti is shit,” I said, stabbing my finger at Ronan’s name on the recent contact list.
Ronan didn’t answer, so I called him again, and again, and again, until his sleep-addled voice filled my ear.
“What?” he grumbled.
“Thank God.” A palpable relief washed over me and I sagged forward, folding my arms together and resting my head on them. I rolled my face to the side and spoke at my phone. “You’re home?”
“Sleeping,” he answered, sounding extremely annoyed.
“There’s a problem, Ronan.”
“Are you hurt?” He suddenly sounded awake and alert, the doctor and dom parts of him kicking on simultaneously. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine, but everything isn’t okay.”
“Don’t have him come here,” Sharp interrupted my thoughts from the kitchen, a glass of water hanging between his fingers.
“You and Kevin need to get out of town,” I said.
“I work in two days.”
“Then just for two days,” I pleaded. “There’s something happening. I just found out and I need to know that you’re not in L.A. until I can get it sorted out.”
“Foster,” he sighed. “Is this a work thing?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a sardonic laugh. “A work thing.”
“Where do you suggest we go?” Ronan asked me, still sounding tired. “Do you have a cabin we can borrow?”
A pained laugh tore out of my throat. “No,” I said. “I don’t.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m so sorry, Ronan,” I apologized. “Don’t use your phone or internet at home to find a place. Just… go.”
“Foster.”
“Wait until you hear from me to come back,” I begged.
“Foster,” Ronan said again.
“What?”
“If anything happens to Kevin…”
