Page 55 of Hide Little Traitor

I roll my eyes. “No, but Ronan would, and Salvatore wants me dead enough already without being responsible for his heir’s death.”

“Just get in the goddamn closet.”

“Give me a gun.”

“So you can shoot me?”

“No, so I can help you, you idiot.”

There’s something so familiar about bickering with him that eases the panic thrumming inside me, but when more gunshots ring through the house, it all comes crashing back.

“Get in the fucking closet, Chloe,” he grinds out, and for once I decide not to fight him.

I may have kept up with my training over the years, but I haven’t faced actual hand-to-hand combat since the drills our fathers used to put us through when we were teenagers.

Reaching the closet door, I find Ronan on his hands and knees at the back of the large space, shoving dresses aside.

Kingston really should have been more specific.

“Do you want me to check the bathroom?” I ask.

He glances over his shoulder, fear and determination battling in the depths of the green, but it’s the indecision that has me making the choice for the both of us.

Ronan has been faced with losing me too many times for him to choose anything that could lead to me being hurt. The problem is, both options are just as dangerous as the other.

I step back from the doorway, but I only make it a few steps before another gunshot fills the house, but this time it’s not downstairs.

It’s right outside the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

RYKER

NOW

It’s been too long since I’ve been in a gunfight, but I’m not getting the kind of thrill I normally would.

Because Chloe is here, which means she’s at risk, and the idea of her being hurt when I should have protected her fucking hurts.

“Will you be okay here if I go to the front?” I ask Kingston, never taking my eyes off the targets that move closer to the house.

“This isn’t my first time, Ryker.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re so fucking old that’s hardly a surprise.”

He turns an unamused glare at me, but I don’t miss the way his lips tip up in amusement.

He’s only a little over a decade older than me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take every opportunity presented to me to comment on his age.

I steer clear of the windows as I make my way into the living room, but I don’t expect to see three guys dressed in all black stepping through the front door.

“Where the fuck is your security team?” I shout into the kitchen, using the doorway to shield me from our visitors.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Glad they held a gun on me when they know I work for you but let these fuckers stroll in like they own the place.”

There’s a good chance they’re dead, but they shouldn’t have let these assholes get the jump on them.