“I thought you should know,” Sharp said.
Golden’s spine straightened, but he exhibited no other physical indicator of his discomfort.
“Thank you,” he said.
Sharp answered him with a curt nod. “Don’t get killed. You’re too valuable to me.”
“He’s not shit to you.” My rage boiled over and I jumped up from the couch, advancing on Sharp as he walked to the door like he didn’t think I would put a bullet in his chest. “The fuck are you thinking? Coming in here, saying my dad tried to kill him? Get the fuck out.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Foster.”
“Get out,” I hissed, taking a step toward Sharp. The man slow blinked at me, no doubt trying to intimidate me, but he couldn’t.
“Don’t get him killed.”
I pointed at the door. Sharp shook his head, hand on the knob.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he said.
“Is that a threat?” I snapped.
Behind me, Golden made a disagreeable grunt.
“There’s people out there who want you both dead, even though it appears at least one of them can’t make a decision and stick to it.” Sharp rolled his eyes. “Comfort is complacency.”
“Says the man with a shabby chic office,” Golden said from the couch. He dropped his head back so he could see us both. “Please stop posturing. Sharp; we’ll talk later. Sage, settle down.”
Sharp slipped out of the door and as soon as it closed, I flipped the deadbolt and turned to face Golden. He looked so nonplussed, but exasperated and tired all at the same time. He studied me in silence, then rolled his head forward, his neck cracking during the rotation.
“Will you come sit?” he asked, voice soft.
I couldn’t tell him no. “My dad has no reason to want you dead,” I said as soon as my ass landed against the cushion.
“I accepted a contract to kill his son,” Golden reminded me. “He has every reason to want me dead.”
“He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know you.”
Golden chortled. “As far as you know.”
“Let’s go see, then,” I proposed.
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s go round my parents' place. You can ask my dad yourself.”
I didn’twantto go see my dad, but I didn’t believe that he was behind this. There had to be an explanation for the pictures, for why he was where he’d been. Things with my dad weren’t sunshine and roses, but I believed him when we talked last. My dad wasn’t the type. He had a mind for business, for wine, maybe for laundering money, but not for murder.
“It’s Valentine’s Day.” Golden rolled his eyes and I gave him a rough slap against the side of his face.
His nostrils flared, pupils dilating into dark black pools. He gently pressed the tips of his fingers against the place I’d struck him, chest heaving as he breathed.
“I’ll have my mom make you a steak,” I rasped.
“That’s not as romantic as you think it is.” He dropped his hand back into his lap, threading his fingers together in a failed attempt to cover the way his cock had started to thicken. I slapped him again, knocking him back against the arm of the couch.
“Was that romantic?” I asked.
“Please let me come before we go,” Golden panted, splaying open his hands and putting his growing erection on display for me. He still hadn’t changed, the only reason we’d even come to his house, and the thickness of his thighs stretched the material of the sweats he’d borrowed, his hard cock leaving nothing to the imagination between them.
