Page 38 of Split You Open

Blair says nothing but the tip of her knife disappears. I let out a sigh of relief. Good, she’s willing to hear me out.

Just as I start to turn, something cracks against my skull. The pain is agonizing. It shoots down my neck and spine, before I lose feeling in my limbs. My vision grows dark and suddenly I’m falling. My face hits the ground right by Rhett’s feet. He snickers in response.

“Tie him up and drag him down to his truck. I’ll take care of the mess here,” Blair says, her voice coming from what sounds like a great distance.

I blink, the motion slow and uneven.

When I open my eyes, I find a pile of paracord by my face. Gingerly, I attempt to lift my head to look up. I manage to get it a few inches off the ground before the pain in my skull becomes unbearable. My face hits the ground and I let out a grunt.

Rhett grabs my hands, jerks them behind my back and ties my wrists together with the cord. He does the same with my ankles. I try to speak but I can’t seem to figure out how to use my mouth. I’m so fucking dizzy. Rhett must notice because he gags me with a cloth he pulled out from only god knows where. When he’s done he steps into view, pulls out a cigarette, and lights it. The drag he takes is long, the glare he shoots me dark. When he releases a puff of smoke he grunts thoughtfully.

Rather than say a word, he pulls back his foot and slams it into my side, knocking the breath clear out of me. When he lifts his foot again, it’s to stomp on my face. He doesn’t hold back. The pain that comes with such a brutal strike is excruciating.

As the world fades away, I hear Rhett chuckle.

When my eyes open again, I find myself being dragged down the muddy road on my stomach. Small rocks and twigs scratch up my face and chest. The thick mud soaks through my shirt and pants, chilling my skin and bones.

Nausea rolls through me as the pain throbs in my head and side. I briefly lose consciousness again. The next time I wake, it’s to find Rhett pulling me up into the back seat of my own truck.

“For fuck’s sake, you need to lose some goddamn weight, asshole,” Rhett snarls as he manages to lay me across the seat.

I groan. Rhett ignores me to slam the door shut behind him. He climbs into the truck, taking the driver’s seat. He works to get my truck out of the small muddy ditch. When he’s managed the feat, he flips the truck around in the direction that I’d driven up in.

With a great deal of difficulty, I force myself to sit up. The cab of the truck spins. I take several long breaths to push down the wave of nausea rolling through me. The smell of blood, my blood as it drops from my nose, is metallic and overwhelming in the small space.

Rhett adjusts the rearview mirror so that he can see me. His eyes are still dark and full of murderous rage.

“Before she gets back, I need to know something,” he says. “Shake your head yes or no to my question. You conscious enough to understand me?”

I meet his gaze with one good eye as the other is already swollen shut, and nod.

“A few days before Blair arrived, Wes asked me to help watch over her. Not from this shit—” he waves his hand around flippantly, “—but to protect her from you.”

I blink in surprise. I didn’t realize Wes had such little faith in my ability to control myself around my godchild. Irrational anger burns the surprise away. How dare Wes attempt to put up roadblocks between me and my goddaughter?

“How did he describe it?” Rhett muses as he scowls thoughtfully. “Oh, right. Wes said you were ‘peculiar’ around your godchild. That you might suffocate her. He left out the part where you wanted to see her dead. I should’ve taken that ‘suffocate’ part more literally.”

I glare at him. If they would let me explain, they’d understand that I never wanted any of this.

“But beside my own failure to notice your betrayal coming and watching over her, you know what else I failed to clock? Wesley’s involved in this. I’ve been wondering,” Rhett continues, his voice dropping an octave as his glare grows darker. “How would Wes know to warn me about you? Yes or no—did he know that you put the hit on her?”

Immediately, I shake my head.

“So he’s not in on this at all?” Rhett presses.

Again, I shake my head as unease curls in my gut.

I never considered how this could look for anyone other than me. Wes hasn’t been involved in any of this, but I can see how Rhett would draw that conclusion. Especially given Wes’s warning prior to Blair’s arrival.

Rhett hums noncommittally before he pulls out another cigarette and lights it. He takes a few tokes then blows the smoke out the open window. I guess the conversation is officially over for now. I understand why when the passenger door opens abruptly and Blair jumps inside.

“Let’s go, quick. The smoke will draw attention if the gunfire hasn’t already,” she snaps.

“Feels like a crime destroying that van,” Rhett mutters.

“It had to be done. Too many fingerprints and… stuff.”

Rhett chuckles. “And stuff?”