“Where do you think?”
“She’s not a slave you can lock in.”
“As long as she behaves, she can come out in the morning.”
Her demand is sharp. “Let her out.”
“Not going to happen.”
She stops short of me. We face each other in silence, her eyes searching mine, questions running through hers. A warning. A threat. That she’ll rip my head off if I lay a finger on Noah or Jasper. I get all that. I know her well enough to know what’s going through her mind.
“You took my purse and phone.” Her tone is thick with accusation. “I checked my bag. Jazz told me you took hers too.”
As that’s a statement and not a question, there’s nothing to say.
Her nostrils flare. “Where’s our stuff? I want everything you took from us, including my gun.”
“Where did you get that gun?”
She scoffs. “Does it matter?”
“I need to know if I have to do damage control. If you bought it off some shady dealer in the street, it may be stolen or connected to a crime.”
“Don’t worry.” Her smile is cold. “It’s clean.”
“How do you know that?”
“My mom gave it to me.” She holds out her hand. “So give it back.”
To be on the safe side, I’ll have that Glock checked out. “You know that’s not going to happen, darling.”
The line of her jaw hardens. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why? Can’t stomach the memories?”
She drops her arm to her side and purses her lips.
I go to the bar and fetch the glasses. She’s right behind me when I turn around. She looks at the liquor I hold out to her and shakes her head. I put the glass in her hand anyway.
She watches me. “How did you find me?”
I take a sip of my drink. “Face recognition software. Your fake ID popped up when you used it at the hospital.”
She flinches. Sarcasm laces her tone. “My bad.” A beat of silence follows that she fills with a chuckle. “I gave a bogus address at the hospital.”
“Clever.” I trace the crystal studs on the bottom of the glass with a thumb. “But the landlord registered the water and electricity bill for the ADU you’re renting in the false name on your ID card.”
“And you have a contact at the municipality with access to the records.”
“Good guess.”
“I should’ve thought about that.” Her laugh is wry. “Stupid mistake.”
“An unavoidable one.” I study her carefully. “The hospital report said you were admitted for low blood pressure.”
“How the hell did you manage to access my private medical information?” Looking at me as if I’m a puppy killer, she holds up a hand. “You know what? I don’t want to know. My medical history is none of your business.”
“What was wrong with you?” I take another sip of my drink. “Your test results came back normal.”
