“What’s that face?” Sharp asked, leaning back in his chair and settling his hands on the arms of his chair.
“What face?” I squared off the stack of pictures and tossed them back onto his desk.
“There was something you expected to see in that stack that you didn’t,” he said.
I scrubbed a hand down my face and frowned.
“What’s missing?” Sharp asked.
“Me,” I whispered.
“Why?”
“To throw me off,” I answered.
“Why?” he asked again.
“Because the hit hasn’t ever been on him.” I turned my back on Sharp and stared out the window. The sky was blue, the sun bright. The water of the pool sat still and crystalline…idyllic and untouched.
“You sure?”
“What the fuck, Sharp?” I threw my hands in the air and swiveled to face him, finding a gun pointed right at my chest.
“Foster,” he said, making a soft tsking noise and shaking his head.
“No.”
“Who is the hit on?” he asked.
“Me.”
“Who took it out?” Sharp pulled back the hammer and curled his finger around the trigger.
“Not you,” I whispered.
He answered with a rough nod. “Get down, Foster.”
And then he pulled the trigger.
Chapter Eighteen
Sage
This had gone on long enough.
I’d been out of hiding for days and I hadn’t figured shit out. No one had come after me. Considering someone had tried to drug me and stab me to death in the alley of a bar miles out of my normal zone, I knew there was a time I was being watched. So why wasn’t I being watched now? My father knew I was alive. The Molinaro twat knew I was still alive…so why was Istillalive?
I started to get antsy, so I drove toward the city. I couldn’t think straight, and I was tired of being away from Golden.
“Cards on the table,” I rehearsed as I navigated my way through the streets toward his house. “I don’t want to do this without you. Here’s what I know. Here’s who I am. No, that sounds dumb.”
I cursed under my breath and turned onto Golden’s street.
He knew who I was; I didn’t need to tell him. Just like I knew who he was, and even though it appeared we would spend more time on the opposite side of the line, I would rather be on the wrong side with him than not know him. I also knew that made me weak. I knew it made me a target, madehima target. But I couldn’t find it in me to care. I thought about the cabin, I thought about his laundry room, his back deck, his bed. Golden consumed my thoughts, and I needed a break.
If I could get my hands on him…my mouth…
I could clear my head and then do some murder.
