Page 62 of Outlaw Ridge: Griff
But Rhett? That made more sense. The man had already started to unravel. If he’d come here looking to destroy something—evidence, maybe—he could’ve panicked when they arrived.
Another shot rang out.
The bullet punched through the wall above them, sending drywall dust raining down. Lily flinched but didn’t move. Griff dropped even lower, shielding his head, adrenaline burning in his veins.
Whoever was inside wasn’t trying to scare them now.
They were trying to kill them.
Gunfire ripped through the office again, louder this time, closer. Griff shifted, using the corner of the doorway to angle his view through the narrow opening.
Movement—fast, low to the ground.
The shooter was trying to reposition, maybe heading for the window.
Griff caught a glimpse. Male, average build, moving with purpose. Not Everett. Not Rhett. And definitely not local.
His instincts sharpened. Not a desperate man covering his tracks. A professional. Hired. Which meant this didn’t clearanyone.Everett, Rhett, Margo—hell, even someone outside their current suspect pool could’ve brought him in.
Griff leaned closer to the doorframe, just enough to project his voice without offering a clean shot. “Put the weapon down,” he called out. “We’ve got deputies on every side of this building. You’re not getting out.”
Inside the office, something crashed, furniture being shoved, maybe a chair tipped over. A sharp curse followed, low and angry.
Then two more shots.
One slammed into the doorframe again, inches from where Griff had been a moment before. The guy wasn’t giving up. Not yet.
Griff gritted his teeth as another bullet slammed into the wall above them, splinters of wood and drywall peppering theair. The gunman wasn’t spraying wildly. He was controlled, calculated. Which made him even more dangerous.
He silently prayed that Holly was still hunkered down in the bathroom, and that Jesse and Hayes were keeping their heads low outside. The way those rounds were ripping through the building, it wouldn’t take much for someone to catch a stray.
This couldn’t keep going.
Griff leaned toward Lily, his voice a whisper, “I’m going to draw his attention. Be ready.”
She nodded without hesitation, her body already shifting closer, staying low as she maneuvered beside him.
Griff slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out his truck keys. He waited for the rhythm of the shots, the stillness that came between bursts of chaos, and then tossed the keys in a high arc through the doorway.
They clattered loudly onto the floor of the office.
It worked.
The gunman moved. Quick, sharp motions. Griff caught the full view of his face now. Someone he definitely didn’t recognize. The man pivoted, bringing his weapon around toward Griff.
Griff fired first.
Two rounds, center mass.
The man jerked back as both bullets slammed into his chest. His gun slipped from his fingers, his knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor with a dull, final thud.
Silence.
Griff held his breath for a beat, listening, watching.
But the threat was done.
He rose slowly, gun still trained, and stepped into the office, Lily close behind him. The shooter was dead.
