Her stomach clenched, and she dropped into one of the two stools at the island, threading her hand in her hair. The quick movements—and rush of endorphins—made the cut on her leg pulse. What was wrong with her? Men had lusted after her before. That was nothing new. But Rhett was different. No man had ever lit such a fire in her gut. No man had ever looked at her like he wanted to possess her, own her, make her scream. And yet, he made her feel dangerous at the same time.
The glass door slammed shut, and she snapped her head in his direction and curled her hand around her phone. Thank god one good thing had come from the kiss—he hadn’t learned about Max. While Rhett had been outside, she’d deleted her conversation with her colleague in case he wound up getting her phone again.
The bastard.
“Sorry, just work.”
“Mmm. No problem,” she said, her tone terse.
Amusement blazed from his steel-gray eyes, and the precarious nerves in her belly jumped. God, he was good-looking. Tall, strong, built in all the right places—and well endowed, if the thick erection that had pressed against her belly only five minutes prior was any indication.
He folded his arms on top of the counter directly across from her. “That was smooth, by the way.”
She cocked her head. “What?”
“Kissing me like that.”
Heat scorched her ears and tension circled her throat. She tried to clamp her lips shut but failed. “You didn’t complain.” She shouldn’t egg him on. Given the lack of self-control she exhibited around Rhett, she didn’t need to encourage him.
His mouth split into a wide smile. “I never said I was crazy.”
She worked her tongue over the inside of her cheek. As interesting as this exchange was, she needed to lose him and get the flipping envelope into Max’s hands before Moretti got to them both.
“Look,” she began, as she traced her finger along the edge of the counter. “I need to get back to San Diego. I’m sorry there isn’t anything I can help you with—”
“Oh, but there is.” The words came out smooth and challenging, setting off warning bells in her head. “You could answer some questions for me and then I’ll escort you to your hotel and the airport.”
Annoyance danced in her head. Having Rhett as her chaperone would make it near impossible for her to meet Max. “Go ahead,” she said with a nod.
“Where were you headed earlier?”
She scoffed. “When I ran from Beanie? I didn’t really have a destination in mind, more like just trying to stay alive.”
He narrowed his stare. “You said you spotted him on your floor.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’d already left your room. Where were you headed?”
She puckered her lips to stall, but no lie came to mind. Dammit.
“Visiting a friend, maybe?” The cockiness in his voice grated on her nerves.
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’m not a genius or anything—”
“Duly noted,” she said, not hiding her smirk.
“But that tells me you’re still working this job on Moretti.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “I already told you, I’m done. I’m ready to go home.” Almost. If he’d get the hell off her back so she could complete the last, most important piece of the task.
“C’mon, Priss. I can’t help you if you won’t help me. I could let you walk out that door right now,” he said, gesturing at the bright-yellow wood. “But odds are Beanie will find you the minute you hit the streets. Because let’s be honest—Moretti’s resources are almost as good as mine, and I already know you planned to meet Max Burton.”
She fought to keep her face impassive.
Shit.
She couldn’t lie and she couldn’t weasel her way out of the question. Doing so wouldn’t help. Not when he already knew so much. She bounced her shoulders. “Am I supposed to be impressed? I mean, I guess that’s pretty good you figured it out, but you’re right, definitely not genius material.” The jab didn’t wipe away his self-satisfied smirk.
“All I need from you, Priss, is to tell me who hired Max. Someone is pulling his strings—who is it?”
“I don’t know. He never told me that. The fewer details we share about a job, the better. For this reason exactly,” she said, gesturing in the air between them.
He tugged on his earlobe and nodded. “Fine. That’s probably true. But there’s one thing you can’t cover up.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“What were you hired to take?”
She let her shoulders fall an inch. God, this was getting tiring.
“Peyton, I can give you immunity. You just need to trust me.”
She pierced the tip of her tongue with her teeth. “Max would kill me.”
“He won’t know.”
She pushed herself off the stool. “It’s time for me to leave. Thanks for hanging around my hotel when you did, but—”
He caught her arm. “You can’t leave. Moretti’s men are pounding the streets looking for you. What do you think they’ll do when they find you? No job is that important, Peyton.” His brow locked in a formidable scowl and a shadow crossed his face.
She didn’t pull her arm out of his reach, mostly because the contact grounded her. A memory of Beanie’s scummy hands on her body ripped through her mind. She forced it away and focused on her breath to forget the image. But on its heels came the thought of impending solitude. God, she was sick of being alone. Even when she worked with a partner like Max, she was still alone—because they worked independently. Even when she was with Dani, she was still alone—because Dani had found something better.
Summoning all the attitude she could muster so her resolve wouldn’t instantly melt, she jutted out her hip and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What are you suggesting, Rhett? That I stay here so you can babysit me? Leave my friend and associate out to dry while you land your case? I can’t do that. I’m not a backstabber, so if you have a viable solution, let’s hear it.”
The lines of his face didn’t soften. “I know you’re in a tough spot. I get that. You think Milo wasn’t three years ago when I gave him a way out?”
Her chest deflated. “That’s what you’re trying to do? Get me to walk away?”
He rolled his fingers into a fist. “No. But there’s a damn good opportunity sitting in front of you. Help me land Moretti and I’ll get you out.”
Interest defused the irritation sizzling her blood. “How?”
“Anything that’s on your record will be wiped clean and you’ll be granted immunity for anything you’ve been involved in up until the moment we shake on this deal.”
She shook her head, but the muscles around her throat flexed. She could get out. She could be free like Dani. No more would there be a giant wedge between her best friend and her. No more would she feel inferior to everyone else. Hope spun a ball behind her heart. Doubt unwound it. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t be anyone different. She hadn’t held down an honest job in her life. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she kept her hand at her side and her elbow loose in his grip.
His eyes moved over her face. “C’mon, Priss. What have you got to lose? What’s holding you back?”
She laughed, but it came out as a snort. Embarrassed, she ran her palm beneath her eye and pulled away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
She let her gaze wander over the knit blanket on the couch, the hand-painted pictures on the walls, and the knickknacks on the tables. Sadness sank into her bones. She wanted this. Family.
His arms came around her from behind and pulled her back to his chest. She brought her hands to his wrist with the full intention of tearing out of his hold, but instead, she anchored his forearm in place.
“You’re scared. I see that.”
She nodded.
“It’s different, right? Far from what you know.”
Those blasted tears rushed to her eyes again, and she clen
ched the muscles in her face. Thank god he couldn’t see her expression. She nodded again.
“It’s okay to be freaked out. You’re strong, Peyton. Look what you’ve endured the last twenty-four hours alone. You said yourself you want kids one day. How are you going to do that and continue stealing? Are you willing to give up being a mother for this life that will eventually land you in prison?”
The tears finally dislodged themselves and rolled down her cheeks to coat her lips. She sniffed and fought the urge to wipe her eyes on his arm. The heat of his body warmed her back, melting away the stiffness that occupied her bones. His chin moved next to her ear, and the stubble on it tickled her skin. His scent, musk and wood, surrounded her, making her sink deeper into his embrace.
When she didn’t respond he gave her a small shake. “Is that what you want?”
She cleared her throat. “No.” The single word fell from her lips, taking with it a load of weight from her shoulders. The admission should have been harder to cough up. Instead, it was like releasing a lifetime of baggage.
“Then work with me. Please.”
She lifted her hand and mopped the tears away with her fingers. “What about Max? I won’t implicate him.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to keep him clear.”
She whirled around in his arms and planted the tip of her index finger on his chest. The muscle beneath didn’t budge, but he glanced down at her appendage and knit his brows together. “He gets full immunity or I walk out that door right now.” Her voice shook on the words, but she wouldn’t relent. She didn’t care how big of a fish Max was for the FBI, or what he’d done in the past. She wouldn’t betray him.
Rhett held up his hands. “Max isn’t here to strike the same deal, so I can’t promise that. Hell, I haven’t even gotten clearance from my lieutenant to secure our agreement, but I’ll put my badge on the line to make sure you’re clear.”
Some more of the tension left her body, but she didn’t remove her finger. She narrowed her eyes into blazing slits. “I can’t agree until I know Max is immune too.”
Rhett made a sound of impatience. “It’s not that easy.” He dragged his hand through his hair, rumpling the mane. “All right. I can promise that if we can avoid involving him, he’ll be safe. But if it turns out we need him to give up the name of who hired him, he and I will have to come to an agreement. That’s the best I can do.”
She forced down a swallow and pulled away from his chest with one brisk nod. “Fine.”
He lifted his eyebrows in disbelief. “For real?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I wouldn’t lie. Not about that,” she said with a shrug.
His mouth quirked and he held out his hand. “Doesn’t count unless you shake on it.”
She planted her hand in his, and his fingers surrounded hers in a bear hug. “Deal.”
“Deal,” he repeated.
Why did it feel as though she’d just made a deal with the devil?
CHAPTER 13
Rhett refrained from offering Priss a fist bump—he knew his smile said it all. He was thrilled she’d agreed to work with him.
He winked. “You’re happy not to be rid of me yet. Admit it.”
“Ha.” She tossed her head back. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ll still be happy to put distance between us when all this is done.” The words stung, but at least she’d spoken them with a lack of conviction.
He crossed his arms. “Give me some time and you’ll be begging me to stick around.”
She worked her lips into a pucker but didn’t respond.
“Relax,” he said, nodding at the sofa. “I’ll whip up something for us to eat and then we can talk about how to move forward.”
Reluctantly, she made her way to the couch and flopped down on it. He turned to the fridge and pulled out peppers, onion, spinach, cheese, and eggs. In a few minutes, he had omelets dished out.
Peyton moved to the table. “This looks delicious.”
He sat down next to her and passed her a fork. “I know it’s a little late for brunch,” he said, gesturing at the clock—it read 1:10 p.m.
She shrugged. “I’ll eat an omelet any time of the day.” She dug into the egg and he watched as she brought the fork to her lips. Memories of her warm, wet mouth invaded him and he ached to throw the food aside and finish what they’d started.
He brought his mind back to the task. He needed to get more information, the smallest details could crack the mystery of who hired Max. He shoved a bite into his mouth and turned the words over in his head for the dozenth time. How to get her talking without scaring her—and the information she held—off?
“What’s our first step?” Peyton asked, breaking the silence.
Rhett forced down a clump of mozzarella and chased it with water. Peyton was the type to keep the ball in her court. He’d have to be on his toes for the duration of their agreement. “I need to know the parameters of the job they hired you for and any names involved in the task.”
She took another bite, not the least bit ruffled. “There’s Vicky, the stripper. She brought the wetsuit and snorkel gear onto the boat and hid it for me. She’s also the one who got me on board. Security was tight, but she’s a regular for Moretti, so he didn’t flinch when she told them she had a new girl.”
“Who hired Vicky?”
“Max.” She twirled the fork on her plate. “He paid her ten grand for her part, but she wouldn’t do more than get me on the ship.” Peyton suddenly pulled back her shoulders. “Ohmigod. Vicky could be in danger too.”
Shit. “I’ll have Eric and Mandy look into it.” He pulled out his phone and typed a message in their group chat. “She got off the boat, I’m certain of that, because I escorted everyone. Beanie must have been distracted with you at the time.”
Worry carved sharp lines into her forehead. “I hope she’s okay.”
He patted her hand. “I’ll get to the bottom of it. Now what did they ask you to steal?”
Her shoulders drooped, and she took another bite of her omelet. He raised his eyebrows in question as she chewed slowly. Finally, she swallowed her mouthful.
“It was a name and address.”
He lowered his fork. “Whose name?”
Sharp, glittering eyes fixated on his. “Jenny Carter.”
The egg sat heavy in his stomach, and nausea crawled up his esophagus. Whatever motive there was behind stealing the address of the witness whose testimony would put Andre Moretti, Donatello’s nephew, behind bars couldn’t be good. He’d expected Peyton to be after money, data, or something to blackmail Moretti with. He’d been prepared for almost anything. But not this.
* * *
Peyton took the last bite of her omelet, and the gooey cheese melted on her tongue. If he’d meant she’d be begging him to stick around because of his cooking, he just might be right. And if the sex was as good as the food, she’d have a hard time parting with the pesky agent who had very little reluctance when it came to pushing her for information. But she’d made the deal. She couldn’t be mad at him for getting to business.
Curiosity gnawed at her. Hearing Jenny’s name, Rhett had nearly choked. He’d quickly excused himself to make a phone call. She tapped her finger on the table then stood and cleared it.
Moments later, he exited the bedroom. His shoulders filled the kitchen doorway, and his dark hair and stubble accentuated his perfectly straight nose. His chiseled jawline and thick black hair made her wonder about his heritage. Irish, maybe?
“What was that about?”
He stalked into the kitchen. “Nothing. Just needed to talk to Mandy.”
She rested both hands on her hips. “If we’re going to work together, you need to confide in me as much as I do you.”
He gave her a small smile, closed the full dishwasher, and hit the Start button. As the machine revved up, he caught her waist, and his warm hands seared through the material of her dress. Her muscles tightened beneath his hold and her pelvis constric
ted. He moved her closer. Several inches separated their bodies, but electricity arced between them. Her loins throbbed and heated to wet her panties.
As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, he lowered his gaze to her waist then snapped his attention to her face.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice thick. “We need to be honest.”
She nodded, not trusting her tongue to form a coherent word.
“Jenny Carter is the woman who witnessed Andre Moretti kill Raquel Stevens.”
Numbness coasted through her body as his words sank in. She lifted her hand and tangled her fingers in the roots of her hair. The scandal surrounding Andre Moretti had painted headlines for weeks. The young congressman flashed through her mind: light-brown hair and thick features similar to his uncle. Andre’s handsome, put-together appearance led many to believe the murder had been pinned on him.
“She’s in witness protection, Priss.” The statement nearly knocked her over. “Only a handful of people have access to her location.”
“Oh my god.” She sucked in a breath, but the air didn’t reach her lungs.
Rhett’s scorching stare warmed her cheeks. She wavered, but his hand stayed rooted to her hip, preventing her from swaying too far.
“Peyton,” he said, the syllables harsh. “Do you have Jenny Carter’s address?”
She wet her lips.
“If someone’s searching for her while she’s in witness protection, she’s in grave danger.”
Dammit to hell and back. She broke away from his hold and paced the kitchen. “God, I’m so stupid. It never occurred to me to look up who Jenny Carter is.”
Rhett folded his arms across his chest. “Her name was protected. You wouldn’t have read about her in the tabloids.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice teetered on shrill. If she’d made it to Max’s place this morning and passed off the envelope, she would’ve had a hand in murdering an innocent woman. All because she hadn’t asked questions. No, that didn’t matter. Max probably didn’t know who Jenny was either. They were merely pawns in a big game—a game of murder and cover-up.
Straight Shooter Page 11