“Get out of the way,” his father said again.
“No,” Sage said simply.
“That man was hired to kill you.”
An amused laugh pressed against the backs of my teeth, bubbling out of my mouth unbidden. I had promised Sage I would be polite, and I hoped laughing at his dad while being accused of such a thing wouldn’t count as impolite. The accusation was true, but it wasn’t a surprise to anyone in this room beside the only man with the gun.
“I know.”
“Get out of the way.”
“You think you can hit me with that shaky hand?” I asked, looking over Sage’s shoulder and narrowing my eyes at his father. “You’re more likely to take out your son and make me rich after all.”
His father pulled back the hammer and tried to once again resume his quaking and dubious aim.
“I wish you had let me bring my gun,” I stage-whispered in Sage’s ear.
Sage let out an annoyed breath, his shoulders deflating.
“Re-engage that and do it slowly or you’re going to end your fucking bloodline,” I hissed.
“Padre,” Sage echoed my sentiment. “Put it down.”
I wasn’t sure we didn’t spend an hour in the standoff, but finally the gun was on the desk and Sage was across the room, dropping out the magazine and emptying the chamber. He walked back across the room toward me, the empty gun in his hand, outstretched to me. I took it from him, slipping it into my pocket with a frown.
I watched the confidence flitter out of the oldest Rosetti’s eyes, and his stare turned worried and concerned. His attention flicked from Sage to me and when he squared his shoulders, something clicked into place.
“You,” I hissed, raising a finger over Sage’s shoulder and pointing at his father.
“What?”
“You shot at me,” I said.
Sage turned his head to the side to catch my stare. He hadn’t moved away from using his body as a shield, and I reached toward him. I curled my fingers around his waist and pulled him back, toward me and to the side. Even if his dad had another gun stashed in his desk, he wasn’t likely to hit either of us if he fired it. Not with a nervous tremor like that.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You shot at me. In the valley,” I amended. Heat flared up my throat and into my face. This man was lucky I wasn’t armed or he would have been on the floor.
“You tried to murder my son!”
“Did I?” I held my hands out and glanced back at Sage. “Did I try to kill you?”
“No,” he answered
“If I wanted your son dead, he would be,” I growled.
Even when Sharp had given me the file, murdering Sage hadn’t ever been an option. The man infuriated me beyond measure, drove me wild with rage and need, but not once had the thought crossed my mind. In fact, I’d spent more time thinking about killing the man in front of me than I ever had the man behind me.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” I said, putting space between Sage and me and closing the distance toward his dad. “My name is Foster Golden, and if you weren’t sure, let me confirm for you that I do in fact kill people for a living. I’m fucking good at it, so the only reason you and your son are alive is because I want you to be. And to be honest, I don’t even wantyoualive that much. I just don’t want him to be mad at me.”
“I wouldn’t be,” Sage muttered behind me.
I straightened, which was a horrible move because that fucking plug in my ass rubbed against my prostate. I was getting hard, partially from the stimulation of the toy Sage had put inside of me earlier and partially because guns always did that to me. Either way, the arousal was ill-timed, but there wasn’t anything I could do to stop the slow leak of precum that oozed against my briefs.
“If you have any other weapons, I’d suggest you put them on the fucking desk right now,” I said.
“Golden.” Sage stepped close, his chest pressed against my back. I could feel his hardness push against the back of my thigh. He didn’t need to say more.
