Pressing her hand to her chest, she closed her eyes. Get a grip. Movement sounded behind her, and relief washed away the nausea. Rhett had that effect on her. She turned around to meet the wall of his chest, which her body so craved.
Instead, an unfamiliar black shirt filled her vision. Fear pressed down on her tongue. She tilted her head back and stared into menacing eyes. The man’s blond hair was gelled away from his pale face, and long whiskers jutted out in patches from his jaw. Warning signals bleeped through her skull. She lunged backward and opened her mouth to scream.
He shot his hand out and caught her windpipe, cutting off her air. Panic rushed through her veins. He raised her onto her tiptoes, and she gulped and sputtered against his leather glove.
No, no, no. She couldn’t die like this. Not by the hands of this monster.
He shoved her back against the railing, and the hard steel carved itself into her back. Pain radiated along her muscles. He stretched her head back over the railing. The sound of traffic and distant voices roared in her ears.
“Tell me Jenny’s address or you’ll end up like Vicky.” Spit flung from his lips and his eyes widened, accentuating the bright whites around his irises. His pupils tightened to the size of pinholes.
Tears gushed out of her eyes. Her neck screamed under the strain. Her face throbbed.
She shook her head and clawed at his wrist. Even if she remembered Jenny’s address, she couldn’t give up an innocent woman to save her own life. Rhett wasn’t far away. Her gaze shifted to the window beside the balcony. If she could just get his attention . . .
With the last of her resources, she forced a scream through her restricted throat. It came out as a weak gurgle.
The man’s laugh shook his body, and his eyes glinted maliciously. “Fine. I hope someone catches you.” He swept his hand underneath her knees. The sky filled her vision.
CHAPTER 15
Rhett leaped through the patio door. A growl ripped from his chest as he grabbed the attacker’s hair and slammed his head into the rail next to Peyton’s waist. The man folded to the ground. Peyton teetered on the railing, her eyes round and her mouth open in a silent scream. He snagged the material of her dress and caught her neck with his other hand, yanking her off the railing and toward his chest. His fingers worked through her hair and his arms wrapped around her fiercely, as if keeping her close could somehow erase what had just happened.
Seconds ago, he’d entered the living room to see the dark-clothed man holding Peyton over the railing. In that moment, he’d felt his chest had been pounded with a fucking sledgehammer. The pain still rippled through his core. Had he arrived one second later she’d be meeting the concrete right now, just like Vicky had. All because of that sick bastard Moretti.
He’d kill him.
Peyton’s scent surrounded him, and he burrowed his face into the smooth skin at her neck. Her wild locks danced over his face, but he welcomed the silky caress. She secured her arms around his neck, and her faint sobs caught his heart. He stumbled away from the railing, keeping her dangling in his embrace.
He needed to check her. To make sure the sonofabitch hadn’t hurt her, but for the life of him he couldn’t stop holding her. Her frantic breaths grazed his earlobe and her tears coated his cheek.
“Honey, are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Speaking took more effort than breathing.
She nodded and then shook her head. “I’m fine. I just—he was going to throw me over the edge.” Her voice caught on a hiccup, and he smoothed his hand down her back.
“I know.” Rhett dropped his gaze to the bastard. Using his foot, he flipped the man from his side to his back. The guy’s mouth hung open slackly. It looked like Sid, one of Moretti’s guards.
“What are we going to do about him?” She planted her cheek on his breastbone but didn’t pull away even an inch.
He tried to get his brain to operate on at least a couple of cylinders, but every idea fell through a hole. Until he had Peyton on solid ground and away from harm, he wouldn’t be able to form a lucid thought. He hefted her up and carried her through the balcony door. Setting her on her feet, he turned her so he could stare at her while keeping an eye on Sid’s body.
He roamed his gaze over her blotchy face. Lack of moisture was making her lips paler than usual, and she wasn’t blinking. He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone to her jaw and then to the deep red stain around the center of her throat. “Are you hurt?”
Her hand fluttered to his and she shook her head. “It hurts here,” she said, brushing the mark. “But I’ll be okay.”
“I’m going to find something to tie him up with. I’m not leaving you alone, so come with me.”
She planted her hand on his chest, hard and firm. “No. We can’t risk him waking and getting a second chance. I’ll find something.”
He didn’t release her when she tried to walk away, but she shook out of his hold. “I’m fine, honest.” The tremble to the statement proved her a liar. She straightened her spine and turned down the hall.
How the hell had Sid gotten in? Rhett swung his stare to the front door, now ajar. He’d locked it, of that he was certain. As he strode toward the entrance, the door was kicked open. Rhett jumped and yanked his gun from his pants. Before he had the weapon stationed in front of him, the tension in his arms relaxed. “Eric, what the hell are you doing here?”
Eric lowered his Glock, and his anxious brown eyes scanned the area beyond Rhett’s shoulder. “I should ask you the same,” he said, jerking his gaze back to Rhett. “I heard what happened and knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that there was a crime scene at Max’s residence, so I came to check things out.” Eric wet his lips and remained at the entrance, his hands still on his gun. A screech of warning blasted in Rhett’s head.
Static fired through the air between them.
Hearing Peyton’s footsteps behind him, Rhett moved his finger to the trigger of his Glock.
“Eric?” Her question matched the one in Rhett’s head. Maybe he was just on edge. Eric’s story checked out—half the city surely knew what had happened by now. Why wouldn’t he check out their person of interest’s apartment?
Peyton’s hand curled around his bicep, and Rhett forced his forearm to relax. He sure as hell didn’t want to spook Eric.
“Are the police coming up?” she asked.
Eric cleared his throat and the friction in the air ebbed away. “Yeah, they’re on their way. You guys better get out of here.”
Rhett nodded toward the living room. “We’ve got a situation on the balcony.” He shifted his attention to Peyton. “Did you—”
“Right here.” A pair of leopard-print handcuffs dangled from her fingers. An uneasy smile danced on her mouth. “I have no idea why Max has these, but they should hold Sid until the cops come.”
Rhett stifled a chuckle. “I’ve got a pretty good idea why he has them.” He tossed them at Eric’s chest. “Don’t get any ideas.”
Eric laughed and clapped Rhett on the back as he crossed the threshold. But a warning vibrated through Rhett’s chest at his teammate’s touch. Cupping his hand around Peyton’s back, he moved her around Eric toward the hallway.
She stopped in her tracks. “Oh! I forgot my purse. Silly me.” She snagged the long strap of the black handbag sitting on the chair at the kitchen island.
Rhett squinted as she returned to his side. He racked his brain, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember seeing her with the purse. The light-brown one she’d been carrying earlier was still back at his house if he wasn’t mistaken.
She shrugged innocently and strode into the hall in front of him. When they reached the elevator, he caught the strap at her shoulder. “I don’t remember this,” he said.
Her golden eyes danced with mischief, and she grinned. “That’s because it’s Vicky’s”
* * *
She was losing her ever-loving mind.
Peyton shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and stepped onto th
e bathmat. After leaving Max’s, she and Rhett had picked up her things from her hotel room and then returned to Rhett’s place, but she couldn’t calm down. She’d done her best to put on a good front, had even tried to lighten the mood with some jokes, but he was too scrutinizing, too in tune with her emotions. It almost felt like an invasion—she couldn’t hide things from him. Plus, the fact that she’d almost been thrown from a balcony wasn’t something she could easily suppress.
She’d faked a hunger spell and made herself eat the pizza they’d ordered until she thought she might puke. While they ate, Rhett called a tech guy from the bureau to find out how to bypass the biometric password on Vicky’s phone. His colleague promised to get back to him in a few hours.
The weightless sensation of falling over the railing continued to assail her. She hadn’t seen Rhett coming, had been helpless to fight back against Sid. Hell, had Sid held her throat a second longer she would’ve passed out anyway. But she hadn’t. Rhett’s angst-filled face had replaced Sid’s sadistic-looking one, and for a flicker of an instant, she’d thought he was too late. Then his hands had latched onto her and crushed her to his chest until the world stopped spinning and the safety of his arms dissolved a fraction of the paralyzing fear in her heart.
But something about being vulnerable with Rhett had sent her into a tailspin. She knotted the towel between her breasts and sat down on the closed toilet seat.
For the first time in her life, she’d been truly terrified of dying. Not that she didn’t value her life. But for some reason, it had never been a real fear for her.
Because no one loves me.
Tears hit her eyelashes and she sucked back a sob. Well, she’d learned tonight that she loved herself a hell of a lot more than she’d ever given herself credit for. And Dani loved her. That counted, right? Her adoptive parents loved her, but the rejection of her biological mother and father was so deeply engrained into her consciousness that nothing could wipe it away. She’d never be enough. After all, if she wasn’t good enough for her own parents, she wasn’t good enough for anyone else—or any other way of life.
That was why she’d never entertained the idea of being something more, of living on the honest path, finding a man to love her, and having what she craved so deeply: a family.
Enough of this crap.
Pity had taken up a huge part of her life. She’d sold herself short and screwed up good relationships with decent guys all because she’d felt she wasn’t worthy. But she was worthy of Rhett. Today had taught her that. He’d held her like he’d never let her go. He’d wiped her tears, and pain had seared his eyes as he touched her injuries. He didn’t love her. But he cared to some degree. And if an FBI agent could find her worthy, then someone else could too.
But she didn’t want someone else. Not right now. She lifted her gaze to the beach-themed wallpaper. The man she burned for sat on the other side of the bathroom wall. And tonight, she was going to get what she wanted.
She stood, and a shiver tickled her nape. Beneath her dewy skin lay a burning desire that needed to be quenched. She shook off the tremble, steeled her nerves, and opened the door. She strode from the bathroom. Rhett, standing at the kitchen counter, looked up from his cell phone. Darkness fell from the windows. The only light came from the lamp in the living room.
Rhett stared, his eyes making their way down her body to her ankles and back up. They stopped to linger on the base of her towel. She shifted her bare knees and his jaw worked.
Peeling the soles of her feet from the tile floor, she closed the gap between them. As she approached, the muscles in his forearm jumped beneath his skin. She stopped inches away. Background music carried from a show blaring on the TV, but the whirring of her heart rivaled the noise. She dragged her bottom lip through her teeth and swept her gaze over his long, brawny arm to the dark shadow that sprouted from the thick column of his neck. She took in his smooth cupid’s bow and the dip in his brow line.
“Priss,” he murmured. The word rang with caution but more with yearning.
She had to do this. She needed to be touched, to be held, to remove all barriers between them—especially his clothes.
She needed him.
Inexperience kept her arms rooted against the front of her towel. Never in her life had she initiated sex with a new guy. But if she wanted him, she’d have to take him. He wouldn’t resist her, but his career would keep him from making the first move.
She broke her hand loose and settled it on his shoulder then coasted her fingers lightly down his arm, to his hand. He slapped his free hand onto hers. “What are you doing?” His gaze ping-ponged from her face to her twitching hand on his skin. Desire stained his cheeks, and his pupils dilated.
Her tongue fumbled around words she couldn’t spit out. She stepped closer and he straightened from the counter, pulling up to his full height. Her nose met his chest square on, and the width of his shoulders called to her body. He held her hand tightly in his and searched her face.
If she didn’t make a move, he’d think she was losing her mind. “I need you, Rhett.” The words came out like a low purr, and she pressed her belly against the bulge in his jeans.
He caught her shoulder, and his fingers toyed at her skin. “You don’t need to thank me for earlier if that’s what this is.”
She pierced him with her stare, and he had the decency to pull his hand away and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Shit. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Had she misread him? No. He wanted her. She was as sure of that as she was of the throbbing lips between her legs. She drew her shoulders back and gripped her hands in his shirt. He dropped his fingers from his face and she glared at him. “Do you want me or not?”
He grinned and pillowed her head in his palms. “Fuck yeah.”
A thrill zapped through her loins, lighting her bloodstream on fire. She caught the back of his neck and dragged his mouth to hers. His lips were soft, warm, and not in the least unsure. His hand roamed her back and inched under the hem of her towel. Her abdomen tightened, and she sunk her tongue into the cavern of his mouth. Spices from the pizza lingered on his tongue and mixed with his intoxicating scent—tangy and masculine with a hint of sweetness.
He groaned and swept his arm under her ass, lifting her against his chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist and brought her hands to his jaw. His whiskers abraded the skin of her palms, but she reveled in how they contrasted with the silkiness of his lips.
He carried her to the hallway and kicked open the bedroom door. The old hollow wood bounced on its hinges. He lowered her butt to the bed and broke away from her. Her hands fell to her knees and her breath stalled in her throat. He backtracked a few inches, and moonlight splayed over his face. He grabbed the material at the back of his neck and drew his shirt over his head then tossed it to the floor. Muscle upon glorious muscle rippled as he lowered his knees on the bed.
She slapped her palm to his chest, stopping him.
He frowned. “You okay?”
She hopped off the bed, and he sat, bunching his hands at his sides as if it pained him not to touch her. As much as she wanted his affection, she needed to do this. She needed to be the one to take what she wanted. She needed to dominate the power pulsating in her chest. “I’m fine.” She brought a hand to the back of his head and kept her other palm against the now-loose towel. Inhaling the aroma of freshly washed sheets and the primitive scent of Rhett’s pheromones, she dropped the towel.
His sharp intake of breath hissed through the room. She moved her hair over her shoulder as his gaze took in every inch of her that the moonlight exposed. He grabbed her hip and dragged her closer. Heat emanated off his skin, branding her body. She curled her arm around his shoulder and brushed the knuckles of her other hand over the scruff she was beginning to love.
“You’re beautiful.” His thick voice rang with the promise of pleasure.
Anticipation clenched the walls of her vagina. With him seated on the bed and her stan
ding, his head met her collarbone. His jaw swept over the top of her breast, leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake. Her nipple coiled into a rock-hard bud, and he caught it between his lips.
She dug her fingers into the back of his neck and welcomed the invasion of his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tight nub, making her toes curl into the hardwood. She gasped and dropped her head back as the hand on her hip kneaded her flesh.
She’d wanted to take the reins in this endeavor, but oh lord, he did it so well. He broke contact with her nipple and rained kisses up her throat. His knee moved between her thighs, sending her arousal to a new level. She caught his face and crushed her mouth on his.
His deep groan vibrated against her chest. She lifted her leg to the mattress and shoved him backward. He gripped her ass in his palm, and she landed on top of him. A giggle burst through her lips, but humor was the furthest thing from her mind.
She worked her mouth over his and petted the thick, unrelenting muscle above his heart. His hands explored her body, turning it to liquid. He moved his fingers to the top of her ass, and they danced their way to the flesh between her legs. Her breath seized and her tongue refused to reciprocate his ministrations as his index finger parted her throbbing lips.
Need flourished in her belly, its force almost too much to handle. She gasped as the tip of his finger brushed over her clit then dipped inside her, spreading her wetness.
A squeak escaped her mouth. “Oh, god.”
Rhett’s smile broke the tangle of their tongues. His free hand roamed up her ribcage and caught the back of her neck, drawing her close. She buried her face beneath his ear, and her body stuck to his. His index finger joined his middle one inside her. Her walls clenched as he slid in and out.
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