Page 37 of Split You Open

Before the body even hits the ground, Blair’s dissolved back into the shadows of the woods, silent and deadly.

Now is the worst time to get hard—and yet, my dick doesn’t seem to agree.

Goddamn, she’s a force to be reckoned with.

Swallowing down the desire that rushes through my veins at the sight of my goddaughter murdering the assholes after her, I turn my attention elsewhere. I take down two more men as they scurry through the trees after her.

Before I can swing my gun in a different direction, a barrel of another presses against the back of my head. Rather than freeze, I move. My elbow swings back as I duck. It meets the gut of the person behind me. As they grunt and stumble backward, I twist around to face them. The masked individual recovers quicker than expected and a fist to my face forces my head to snap back.

The pain that explodes from my nose is shoved to the wayside.

My assailant tries to jerk the rifle from my hand, but I manage to hold on to it. Kicking out, my boot slams into their gut. This time when they stumble, I put a bullet into the top of their skull. I turn around, ready to find the next asshole to kill, only to find my path blocked.

My eyes lock onto a pair of familiar dark ones. They burn with rage—something I’ve never been on the receiving end of before.

Is this how his victims feel before he chops them up?

Do they feel like they're staring into the eyes of Satan himself? If so, I’d agree with that assessment.

“Rhett—”

His gun comes up and I find myself staring down the barrel.

My heart freezes for half a second. No, this can’t be fucking happening. He doesn’t understand, neither does Blair. I need Rhett to hear me out.

Before he can pull the trigger or I can plead my case, a bullet sails between us. We break apart, stumbling away from each other before turning to face the new threat.

The danger comes in the form of the driver of the nearest SUV. With all doors still open, he tries to make a U-turn to escape. The gun in one hand fires off round after round. Rhett and I duck as a spray of bullets is aimed in our direction. I hit the ground and roll behind a tree. Bracing my back against the barrier, I take a second, then roll out with my rifle aimed at the driver.

My bullets get the back two tires, causing them to go flat and the SUV gets stuck in the softer mud on the service road.

The driver fires off several rounds in my direction, forcing me to use the tree as cover again as he jumps out of the immobile vehicle. Rhett steps out from his hiding spot and returns fire. The driver is hit three, four—fuck—five times in the chest before he goes down.

But before he’s out, the man fires off one more round.

Rhett snarls in pain as he staggers backward, then goes down on one knee. My next bullet gets the driver right between the eyes.

“Rhett!” I leap to my feet, dropping my gun to go to him. I’m by his side in five long strides. I place my hand on his shoulder. “Where are you⁠—”

The tip of a sharp blade presses against my back, right where my spleen sits. I freeze. Rhett’s head comes up and gives me a dark smirk.

“How kind of you to care about me now, Ledger,” he sneers as he rises to his feet with ease, clearly not injured.

Son of bitch, I was tricked. But why? Why would⁠—

Oh. Shit.

The blood drains from my face as I stare at Rhett.

I’ve been so worried about finding, and saving, these two that I didn’t consider how they would react when I showed up. Rhett would’ve told Blair about my involvement in the hit by now.

Fuck me…

She’s got to be pissed. An angry Blair means I’m dealing with a bloodthirsty version of my godchild. This won’t bode well for me. Anchor taught his daughter some nasty little tricks to torture victims. With Blair upset and with that knowledge at her fingertips…

I hold Rhett’s dark glare but address the woman behind me.

“Blair… We need to talk.”