Page 185 of Split You Open

Wes pushes off the wall and leaves the kitchen to, no doubt, grab all the weapons from the other room that I brought up from the basement.

Anchor ticks off his number and Santi gets to work. As his fingers fly over the keyboard, I stomp across the room to stand in front of my best friend. Anchor looks up and glares at me.

“This is all your fucking fault,” my friend spits out.

Before I can say anything, Rhett laughs coldly.

“You killed a man’s wife and then told him to his face that it ‘wasn’t personal’,” he says, his voice so low and cold, it’s almost inhuman. His dark eyes flash as they pin to Anchor’s face. “You brought this upon yourself, asshole. Ledger fucked up for sure, but he didn’t cause the grudge between you and this Dixie guy. If he kills Blair, her blood is on your hands.”

“And then,” Santi adds just as coldly, his fingers never stopping as he speaks. “Your blood will be on ours because if Blair’s dead—you’re dead. Got it?” He glances up at Anchor, all signs of playful Santiago, gone.

Anchor says nothing but his nostrils flare in indignation. If he was in any condition to fight, he probably would’ve gotten up to attack Santi for the threat.

Wes strolls back into the room, geared up and ready to go. Rhett heads into the family room next to do the same. Pride swells as I watch my friends gear up for war for my goddaughter. No questions, no hesitation—we’re all on the same page here.

Anchor takes note of it too, watching as Rhett comes back with guns strapped to his hip.

“Where’s your fucking rifle?” Anchor asks. “You need one.”

Rhett flashes Anchor his teeth in a deadly grin. “Bend over and I’ll show you.”

Anchor scoffs. “My daughter likes you? A disrespectful asshole? I don’t believe it.”

“Naw, she doesn’t like me,” Rhett shoots him a cocky, cold smile. “She loves me. If I get lucky enough, one of these days, I might be calling you Dad, just like her. We’ll be one big happy family, so you better get used to my face and my disrespect.”

Santi gasps with delight. “Can I be the best man at the wedding?”

“You can be my bride, too,” Rhett corrects him without missing a beat. To Anchor he adds, “You know, Dad doesn’t sound right on the tongue. How about I call you ‘Daddy’ instead? Or, since you have a few grays, you could probably pull off ‘Paw Paw’ if you want. Maybe⁠—”

“Got it!” Santi shouts, leaping to his feet.

Rhett beats everyone to Santi’s side. He peers over his shoulder at the screen and scoffs. “No fucking way.”

“What is it? Where is she?” I snap as I push him out of the way.

Santi laughs and Rhett does too.

“She’s on the property next to where we play our game,” Rhett explains just as Santi zooms out on the satellite map and points to the roof of a familiar little cabin. “There’s no one who knows the layout of the land better than us.”

Santi nods. “This side of the ridge is like a fishbowl, and the house sits directly in the middle of it. You can see down to the house from nearly every angle. We’ll be able to see any men Dixie might have working for him before they see us.”

“This piece of property—are there others nearby? Other than your murder shed?” Wes asks.

Rhett and Santi shake their heads.

“Nope,” Santi confirms. “Not for miles.”

“Great,” Anchor growls. “You’ll point to the best spots for us to get high enough to⁠—”

“Fuck no, Paw Paw,” Rhett cuts off. “The four of us are going to get our girl. You can sit here in a recliner sipping some sweet tea if you want since you’ll just be in the way.”

Anchor opens his mouth to object, but I cut him off.

“You’re in no position to turn down help. You want to save Blair? Fine, but you have to play nice with us,” I warn.

This is Anchor’s worst nightmare come to life.

His daughter’s in trouble and he needs all four of us to help him. I can see the internal struggle warring in his dark eyes as they meet mine.