“Alright, see you in a bit.”
With that, Rhett shoves open the door and climbs out of the truck. After slamming the door shut behind him, Rhett slips around to the bed of the truck and pulls out the supplies he’ll need. After a few minutes, he takes off down the road with both hands in his pockets and his cigarette trapped between his lips.
I wait a beat until he’s out of sight before climbing out of the truck with my rifle. With ease, I pull myself up onto the roof of the cab. Just like with all things created from habit, setting up my tripod and gun come naturally. Checking the scope, I adjust the magnification and direction until I’m locked onto where my target will be.
The beast inside me settles as it realizes that I’m working on taking out the threat to our singular obsession.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to alert Blair to our visitor. My stomach clenches at the thought. She’s just now starting to settle in. This will definitely upset her.
Through my scope, I watch as Rhett finally arrives at the motel. I track his progress across the dimly lit parking lot. He’s smart enough to know to stick close to the shadows. There’s only three cars in the lot, and one probably belongs to the receptionist in the lobby, so there’s a slim chance Rhett will be seen. But it pays to be safe rather than sorry.
Rhett’s gait is lazy as he strolls toward the last door on the right. When he gets there, he pauses a second. He tilts his head toward the door, as if to listen for something, then straightensbefore knocking. I suck in a deep breath, then let it out slow and steady. There’s a few seconds of stillness before the door cracks open.
“Fuck,” I mutter beneath my breath.
It’s not open wide enough for me to take a shot. That, and it’s completely dark inside. The fucker must be wary about the unexpected intrusion and is playing it smart.
Rhett shoves his hands into his pockets and says something. I only know he speaks because his shoulders shift, rising and falling in a shrug. Then, in a burst of energy, he kicks the door open the rest of the way then steps to the side.
My finger caresses the trigger of my rifle but I wait. My breathing is easy, slow, and steady. Movement in the dark room is the moment I’ve been waiting for. My finger pulls the trigger. Rhett, the cold bastard, doesn’t even flinch as the bullet sails by him, inches away from his head. I hit my target, though I’m not sure where. All I know is that he staggers back, further into the darkness before everything goes still.
Rhett slips into the room and shuts the door behind him.
I make quick work breaking down my gun and tripod. I’m in the truck heading for the motel in less than four minutes.
I’ve barely parked outside the motel room when the door swings open. Jumping out, I hurry over and together Rhett and I carry the bound man out of the room and shove him into the back of the cab. A plastic tarp is laid out on the seats to keep the blood from leaking over the material.
The drive home is nearly silent. The only sound made is when Rhett pulls out his lighter to light another cigarette.
When we get back to the cabin, Blair and Santi are still not home.
Rhett frowns at the empty space where Santi usually parks beside the house. I see it, but don’t say anything. I’m not onefor emotional conversations. Besides, I’m in no state to give any sound advice to anyone.
“What are we doing with him?” Rhett asks as he reaches for the door handle. “Chipper?”
I shake my head. He’s not turning into wood chips just yet.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it from here,” I tell him as I climb out of the truck.
Rhett doesn’t object but he does watch as I pull the semi-conscious hitman from the back seat to throw him over my shoulder and walk toward the house. He follows.
“I’m sure you got it, but I’m bored tonight,” he says. “So, you’re stuck with me until this is done.”
I trudge through the house, toward the basement door. “It’s your stomach.”
He chuckles darkly. “You know I’m not squeamish.”
I don’t bother objecting. Rhett can be part of this as much or as little as he wants but I’m going to see it all the way through. I need to figure out why there are still people after Blair and how this one in particular knew to settle here.
In the basement, I walk over to the far wall where a thick metal bookshelf sits. There’s survival equipment and boxes of ammunition on it but I don’t grab any of it. Instead, I use one hand to unlatch the hidden lock and shove the entire unit to the left.
Behind me, Rhett lets out a low, impressed whistle. “Secret room in the house? Creepy but also kind of cool I guess.”
I chuckle. “It’s not a secret, Wes knows about it.”
Rhett only hums in response, distracted as he steps in. I turn on the singular light in the room. It’s not a large space. Probably not much bigger than any of the bedrooms on the second floor. But it’s definitely not as cozy as those rooms. Down here, the walls are made from cinder block and the floor is made of cement. There’s a drain but it’s set up closer to the tall, humansize cage rather than in the middle of the room. The singular metal chair in the room sits beneath the hanging industrial light and the stainless steel table—the only other furniture in the room—sits against the far wall.
I carry my hostage to the chair and dump him into it.
