“Hit me again,” I hissed, pushing him harder against the wall with the gun, my arm, my body. “Hit me or my mother again and see what happens.”
One more shove and I stepped back, keeping the gun in my hand and my stare on my target…on my father.
“I told you it wasn’t me,” he said, tugging at his clothes and straightening himself back into order. “If my word isn’t enough for you, get out of this house.”
I flexed my fingers around the gun, trigger finger tapping against the side of the barrel while I decided if his word was enough or not. A soft knock against the door had my father looking over my shoulder, but I didn’t dare let my focus wander.
“What?” he hollered.
“Dinner,” my mother said gently.
My father’s stare drifted from the door to my face. He licked his lips, eyes narrowed and filled with judgement.
“Your mother doesn’t like guns,” he said.
“I know.”
“Put it in the car before dinner.”
I swallowed thickly. “I’m not putting it in the car.”
“Put it away, Sandro,” he said.
I tucked it back into the holster, fixing the hem of my pants around the bulge, then I stood, gesturing for his approval.
“We’ll talk after dinner.” He brushed past me and out of the office without another word.
I assumed that was an invitation, so after gathering my wits and steadying my shaking hands, I followed him into the dining room for dinner.
Chapter Seventeen
Foster
“Ihave to go to work.” Ronan leveled a sharp look at me, not betraying the tiredness in his eyes.
“I haven’t had a chance to figure this out yet.” I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots and leaving them tangled and scattered on top of my head.
“Figure it out while I’m at work,” he said.
“Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” I snapped, spinning away from him and gesturing to Kevin. “Can’t you talk some sense into him?”
“You know he’s his own man.” Kevin sighed and leaned against the corner of the couch.
They’d grabbed a vacation rental in my name for the weekend in Big Bear after not being able to convince Rich and Sam to tag along. Having my two best friends spread apart with hours between them had not done anything to calm my nerves.
Sharp had handled the attempted murder at my house like he’d said—telling the cops I was out of town with friends and he was house-sitting, which all checked out since Ronan’s rental was in my name. He’d handled the contractors for me to get the door repaired and the window was boarded up while I waited for the glass to ship. There was a blood stain in my entryway which would be gone by Wednesday, he assured me.
I’d spent my time trying to research as much as I could into why Sage’s dad would not only take out a hit on his only son, but why he would pull it back and shift his attention to me and my friends. I might have harbored some kind of affection for Sage, and maybe they were returned in some capacity, but not enough to warrant putting my name at the top of a hit list.
With access to all the databases and search engines Sharp used to pull the data he needed on our jobs, I’d traced Sage’s dad’s relationship with Anthony Molinaro Jr., which dropped me down a curious rabbit hole, leaving me with more questions than answers. I knew the kid was tangled up in it somehow, but they were good at covering their tracks and I hadn’t been able to make sense of it yet.
Sharp had been called onto another job, but he promised he would look into it once he wrapped up his loose ends. In the meantime, I was in a holding pattern. Unable to keep Ronan safe, unable to be honest with him about how dire the situation really was, unable to reach out to Sage.
I didn’t even know why I wanted to reach out to Sage.
Liar.
“The hospital has security,” Ronan bartered, his voice dragging me back into the present. “I’m safer there than at home.”
