I ran back up the stairs, slamming the door behind me. “She’s not in the house,” I said. Jay nodded, and together we left through the back door. “She might have gone to the woods to release a rabbit. Maybe she’s back in the garden now,” I said even though it was absurd to think of her weeding or pruning through a shootout, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to look.
“Stay close to the house,” Jay instructed.
Nodding, I headed toward the garden where this awful journey had begun. Turning the corner, I ran into a brick wall. I was mid-scream when a hand clamped over my mouth.
“It’s me!”
It took my brain a moment to process that ‘me’ was Rye. And that ‘me’ was really ‘we’. Banks stood next to him and in the next moment, Jay turned the corner as well. Rye’s hand slipped from my mouth. I wanted nothing more than to snuggle into my men… all of them, to close my eyes and have them tell me everything was all right, that this nightmare was over, yet, one question remained.
“Do you know where Kit is? Maybe the woods?” I asked quietly.
“No, I checked the trees. We didn’t find anything but a rabbit trap. We hoped she was with you. She’s not in the house?” Rye asked.
“No, we just came from inside—” Jay began only to be cut off.
“Fuck! The barn!” Banks said.
I grabbed his arm, shaking my head. “No, I opened every stall. Jay got shot—”
Rye turned to Jay. “How bad?” he asked, not having to clarify for Jay to answer.
“I’ll live. More than I can say for the two fuckers I shot. How about you?”
Rye shook his head. “We took out four more, but no sign of Cook.”
“Of course not,” Jay snorted. “The asshole sends his henchmen to do his dirty work for him.”
I was glad to hear that Cook’s men appeared to have all been killed, but this wasn’t yet over. Rye had said he’d found a trap in the woods, but Kit wouldn’t have just left it there. “If she released a rabbit, then where is Kit now?”
I heard an unfamiliar voice say. “She’s right here with me.”
Every Barrett brother’s posture instantly changed. Three pairs of eyes turned darker than I’d ever seen.
“Cook,” I heard Rye say under his breath. We looked to our left where the voice had come from, to see a man holding a gun to Kit’s temple.
“Oh my God!” I said.
I didn’t have to know this man to know he was someone who hated the Barretts. His smirk was evil as he ground the barrel of the gun harder against Kit’s tender skin, causing her to give a cry that had my heart seizing.
“She’s just a kid,” Banks said. “Let her go.”
The man’s chuckle sent icy fingers down my spine. “Not a fucking chance in hell. Drop the guns and put your hands up,” Cook said. “And no heroics. I’ve got a very sensitive trigger finger.”
I couldn’t draw a deep breath, but it wasn’t due to smoke this time. It was pure terror. This couldn’t be happening, and yet I could see Kit’s eyes, as big as saucers, the man’s arm around her throat, his other hand holding the gun that with a single movement could end her life. The brothers didn’t take their eyes off their enemy as they tossed their guns to the ground. I’d wanted someone to take the gun from me, but as I released it, letting it fall to my feet, I felt its loss.
“Put your hands on your heads and get over there,” Cook said, taking the gun from Kit’s temple long enough to gesture to where the wishing well rose out of the ground several feet away. I could sense the brothers wanted to lunge forward, but Cook jabbed the gun back to Kit’s head.
“Go ahead and try it, and I’ll blow your sister’s fucking brains out. Now, get the fuck back!” Cook snarled.
“I’m sor—” Kit began, only to give a strangled whimper as Cook tightened his grip around her throat, her fingers unable to pull his arm free.
“It’s all right,” Jay said. “It’s not your fault.” His voice was soft, yet I could see the rage burning inside him—inside all of them as her brothers linked their fingers, lifted their hands to their heads, and backed away.
“You, too, girly,” Cook instructed. “Get your ass over there.”
“Let the women go. Neither one has anything to do with this,” Rye said.
“They’re here with the rest of the Barrett trash. That’s good enough for me,” Cook said. “Shall I send your piece of ass to hell first?”