Page 42 of His Twisted Game

My phone vibrated again. Two more missed messages from Wilder. Fiona sighed, the redness in her cheeks deepening as she covered her chest with her arms, as if that could shield her from the depravity. I pulled her arms until she was showing her tits to me.

Still on her knees. Messed up hair. Red, tender skin. Puffy lips.

She was a gorgeous sight.

Finally, I opened the secure messaging app.

Call now,Wilder had texted.

The next message:Where are you?

Then:Kyle’s dead.

I stood, quickly dressing, then ran to the door. My scalp prickled, blood throbbing in my forehead. What was I doing with her here in the first place? It was supposed to give me a clear mind to be able to do this to her, to show her how desperate she truly was.

But she was still stubborn as hell. And now, I had missed what was truly important.

“Sawyer?” Fiona asked.

“Work,” I said. I unlocked the door. “My secretary will find a driver to take you back to the library.”

“Wait!” I paused, looking back at her. She crossed her arms again, trying to hide her body from my employees. “Can I come with you?”

I considered teasing her for her request, but I had to get out of there right then. I had to leave her there, for now. Would she snoop through my office? No—she wouldn’t. She was a good girl. And good girls didn’t look where they weren’t supposed to. She was far too trusting.

And perhaps I was too trusting of her.

I shook my head, then raced to the SUV, heading back to the Feldman Farm. In the Dairy Barn, Wilder’s face was red and blotchy, a vein pulsing in his neck. He flexed his shoulders, about to punch me.

“Where were you?” he asked.

“The office,” I said.

“I called you. I texted you three times.”

“Get to the point,” I said. “What happened to Kyle?”

Wilder pointed to the tarp. Wrapped inside of it, Kyle’s head poked out, a bullet in his shoulder, another in his forehead.

The wounds were the indicator, their usual mark. “Hatchcom Focus,” I said.

“They attacked in the middle of a livestock order, right after Kyle had taken down the target,” another rancher explained.

“They’re starting a war,” Wilder said.

“They’re not starting a war,” I argued.

Wilder growled, “That was one of my best men.” Kyle was good, but he wasn’t perfect. He had times where he lost his touch, like when I had to do the final blow for one of his recent Dairy Barn kills. “Like hell they aren’t—”

“They’relosinga war,” I explained. “Where’s Roth?”

Wilder stilled. The anger still hammered through his veins, but my words had appeased him for now. It wasn’t normal for Wilder to be upset like this. But he shouldn’t have been. I wasn’t going to let our family business be destroyed by Hatchcom Focus.

The silence told me what I needed to know. They had searched for Roth, but couldn’t find him.

I stepped off to the side, dialing Roth for the first time since our meeting at the anniversary party.

“Roth,” he answered.