Straight Shooter

by Samantha Keith

  The throbbing inside her intensified. She needed him—all of him—now. Breaking away from his delicious work, she sat up and straddled him. Her hair clung to one shoulder, and her cheeks and chest tingled with heat. Her breasts ached from arousal. She needed immediate release.

  She shimmied off him and caught his pants. He lifted his hips and she tugged ruthlessly, exposing the erect tent beneath. He laughed as he shook off his pants and underwear. “Wait a sec,” he said, panting. She watched as he stretched to the nightstand and pulled out a box. She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and pressed her shaking hand to her hair. Good thing he was thinking clearly—she would have jumped his bones without a second thought. He settled on his back, and she waited as he rolled the latex down to the base of his thick, full member. She swallowed over the rising lump in her throat. Goodness, he was huge. He’d stretch her to the max if he fit at all.

  She clamped her hand around his pulsing cock and swung her legs back into position on either side of his waist.

  He circled his hands around her hips and guided her to the head of his dick. He pushed through her entrance, and she sucked in a breath as she lowered herself down. She kept her stare on his face as he filled her. His cheeks hollowed out, and he stared at her through half-closed lids.

  She rested her hands on his chest and rocked her hips.

  “Christ,” he breathed.

  His shaft connected with her apex on each thrust, and pleasure rippled through her. He trailed his hands over her hips to her waist then covered her breasts. His thumbs swept over her nipples, sending shockwaves to the exploding nerve endings between her legs.

  Her breath dragged through her lips as she worked her body up and down. Rhett groaned, circled his arm around the small of her back, and flipped her over. His body nestled between her legs like a long-lost puzzle piece, and he pumped into her.

  Numbness crept over her upper body as all the blood rushed to the glorious, building orgasm at her clitoris. His face nuzzled her throat, and then he lifted his head to suck on her bottom lip. She cried out as he plunged inside her depths, and she matched his thrusts, jerking her hips. Her clitoris tingled and a wave of ecstasy flooded her senses.

  “Harder,” she commanded. He gripped her hips in his free hand, lifting her so he could angle deeper. Another explosion burst through her flesh. Her insides pulsed around his girth as he drew out every last ripple of her orgasm.

  His body spasmed against hers. “Peyton, God,” he mumbled next to her earlobe.

  She locked her arms around his neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and lovemaking. Her racing heart fell into sync with the rhythm of his.

  Suddenly, a stab of sadness washed over her. Their parting ways was inevitable and would hurt like a bitch. She’d have to enjoy every minute—and inch—of him until then.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Got it, thanks.” Rhett exited out of the program the tech guy at the bureau had sent him and unplugged Vicky’s phone from his laptop. Peyton would be ecstatic. He took one last gulp of coffee and glanced at the clock: 8:48 a.m. He’d been awake for two hours already.

  The tension that had been riding in his muscles ever since he’d been assigned to Moretti’s crew had been fucked away, lost in Peyton’s heavenly scent, luscious body, and full mouth. It’d been a long time since he’d been kissed that way—fully. Damn, what did that even mean? The saucy strawberry-blonde stirred his blood like no other woman ever had. Her body made him want to go on a seven-day exploration adventure. Her goldish-brown eyes disintegrated every ounce of resistance in his body, and the sex with her had filled a need he didn’t know existed. He was ruined.

  He moved away from the table and made his way to the bedroom. He paused at the door and then swung it open an inch. Peyton lay curled on her side, her knee drawn up over a pile of blankets. She’d left him with only a corner of the mattress to sleep on. Her ass arched onto his side of the bed. The early morning sun lit the room in a blaze of yellow, but she didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the glare. He always woke before the sun and never understood how people could sleep so peacefully after the day had started. He stepped into the room and moved toward the bed. A patch of pale pink coated the crook of her neck as a result of his scruff. Given the angle of her chin, he couldn’t see the damage Sid had done, but her throat had been an angry purple the previous night.

  The memory of her hanging over the railing, of almost not reaching her in time, yanked a cord deep in his heart.

  He’d protect her from now on.

  And right now, he didn’t want to analyze what the hell that meant. He rested his palm on her bare thigh and rocked her leg. “Priss. Time to wake up.”

  Her face puckered into a cute pout, and she grunted something that sounded like “go away.”

  “C’mon. We’ve got work to do.” He tickled her thigh, and her lips melted into a grin.

  She cracked open an eyelid. “For your information, the reason I’m so tired is because of you.”

  He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Me? How?”

  She tapped her pinky to her lip. “Let’s see . . . it must have been the second, or maybe the third time you woke me up during the night.”

  Images of entering her sexy little body from behind seared his brain and brought his semi-satisfied cock to life. “Ah, well you can’t blame me for that. Besides, I don’t remember any complaints.”

  She chuckled and stopped his hand from weaving under the covers and between her thighs.

  He studied her. “Are you sore? Did I hurt you?”

  She waved the question away. “Of course not. But I am a little sore.”

  Guilt swam inside him. He’d been too intoxicated by her to resist. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her knee. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned onto her back and the blanket fell to her waist, exposing her beautiful, pink-tipped breasts. “Don’t be. I enjoyed every minute.”

  “Mmm.” He pressed kisses down the inside of her leg. A flush tinted her cheeks and her eyes blazed.

  She pressed her palm against his forehead. “Rhett, I need a couple of hours, please.” Her laugh was hoarse.

  He nudged away her hand and moved the blanket. His gaze fell to the freshly bandaged gash on her leg. He removed the gauze carefully and inspected the cut. The outside of the wound had started healing, and the gash no longer looked moist. Thankfully there was no sign of infection. He pressed a kiss next to it.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “Healing nicely.”

  “Good.” He dipped his mouth to the smooth flesh between her legs. Her knees fell open on command and her head tilted back. She ran her fingers through his hair then gripped the strands. The pressure on his scalp urged him on. He licked over her folds and a sharp moan hiccupped from her lips. Positioning his hands around her thighs, he locked his mouth on her sex and sucked lightly.

  “Ohmigod,” she sang.

  He forced down a chuckle and worked his tongue over her sweet, swollen lips. Her back arched and her fingers clamped onto the sheets next to her. He held her steady and flicked his tongue over her clitoris. She cried out as her pussy spasmed. The rush of her orgasm touched his tongue, and he licked and sucked until her cries turned into a laughing plea.

  He pressed one last kiss to her quivering belly then crawled up the length of her. Her eyelashes lay against her cheeks and her lips parted. Then he kissed her mouth because resisting would kill him. She placed her hand on his cheek and opened her eyes.

  “Ah, my god.” Her eyelids fluttered blissfully.

  He laughed. “You can call me that if you want.”

  She swatted his chest. “Don’t get too full of yourself.”

  “Never. But I hope that speeds up the healing time because I won’t be able to hold off much longer.” He nipped her shoulder, caught her hands, and pulled her into a sitting position. “C’mon, sleepy head. Coffee’s on and I’ve got access to Vicky’s phone.”

  She leaped from the bed. “Why didn’t y
ou say that?” She fit her arms through the T-shirt he’d worn the previous night and pulled on her leggings. “Jeffrey got back to you?”

  “Yup. I bypassed Vicky’s security.” He led the way to the kitchen and nodded at the phone on the counter. She sat down on a stool and picked up the device while he poured her coffee. He put out the cream and sugar and she topped her dark brew. She accepted it without tearing her attention from the screen.

  Rounding the island, he huddled next to her shoulder. “See anything?”

  She tapped her finger on the search bar and typed in Jenny’s name. “When did Jenny go into witness protection?”

  He racked his brain. “About four months ago, I think. She wouldn’t have been able to contact anyone once they moved her to safety.”

  “This Jenny must be Jenny Carter then. It’s dated March 27.” She bounced a little in her seat and her shoulder jostled his. “I think they’re talking about the stripper who died.”

  He leaned closer to view the screen.

  Vicky: Are you okay? What happened last night? I heard one of the girls called the cops and Andre was arrested.

  Jenny: I need to talk to you. It’s about that night.

  Vicky: Do you want to meet? I can leave in ten minutes.

  Jenny: No. It’s too dangerous. I was so fucked up that night. Andre kept getting Raquel and me to do blow, so everything’s hazy.

  Vicky: It’s so terrible what happened to Raquel. That bastard deserves to go to jail. You’re doing the right thing, don’t worry.

  Jenny: I’m confused though. There was someone else there that night—his face keeps replacing Andre’s, but I can’t remember who it is.

  Vicky: Let the police do their job. You’ve done yours.

  Rhett grabbed the phone. “Jesus. Someone else was there when Raquel was murdered.” He tunneled his hand through his hair and caught the back of his neck. He paced the short distance from the kitchen to the living room.

  “It could mean Andre didn’t kill her.” Peyton’s words broke through the bubble in his brain, speaking his exact train of thought.

  He rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The envelope burned a hole through his back pocket, scalding his skin. “If Andre didn’t kill her, then there’s someone else after you and the address—someone who has a lot to fucking lose.”

  * * *

  Peyton quickly dressed while Rhett talked to his team. His voice carried from the living room to the bedroom. Waking up to him had been almost as sweet as having the solid length of his body cocooned around hers all night. But it wasn’t something she could get used to. She walked out of the room just as he disconnected.

  “What do Mandy and Eric think?”

  Rhett lifted his shoulder, and a flash of distaste crossed his face. “They’re going over Jenny’s statement again to look for anything that coincides with another man being present.” He exhaled exaggeratedly. “I did some digging this morning while you were sleeping. Turns out Moretti’s wife has been stashing away money in offshore accounts. Either she knows he’s involved in something he shouldn’t be, or she’s preparing a getaway.”

  “Do they have kids?”

  “Nope. Although Andre is like a son to them.”

  “Hmm.” She rolled that information over in her head. “I wonder what’s at stake for Mrs. Moretti if her nephew gets convicted.”

  He shrugged. “Could be anything. Hell, it’s probably worked in Moretti’s favor to have his nephew as a congressman. So who knows what Mrs. Moretti could be involved in. Aside from that, the murder happened at their vacation home, and that carries a lot of scandal. If it had happened at a hotel, there’d be less of a tie to the Morettis.”

  “But Moretti has an alibi, doesn’t he? I remember reading that somewhere.”

  “Yeah, he and his wife were away and Andre had use of their premises.”

  She stomped her foot into the carpet, sending the recliner into a back-and-forth motion that matched that of the battle inside her head. She let out a huff of frustration. “I don’t get it.”

  “What?”

  “Moretti wants Jenny Carter dead to clear Andre’s name—we know that for certain. But who else could be involved? Why’d they hire Max and me to work against Moretti?”

  Rhett waltzed closer, and she took in his full height and the bulging veins under the skin of his arms. “Has to be the guy who was in the room with Andre.”

  “That’s another thing. Raquel and Jenny were hookers. Jenny was confused about someone else being there that night, but shouldn’t she have known beforehand there’d be two guys? Isn’t that something they’d negotiate payment for?”

  Rhett laughed gruffly. “Yeah, you’d think. But Andre’s a catch. He’s affluential, cocky, and a high-profile client. If they were fucked up on cocaine like Jenny said, plans could have changed at the drop of a hat. Hell, maybe the second man joined unannounced.”

  Peyton shook her head. Her hair tickled her shoulders, and the sensation annoyed her almost as much as Rhett’s point. She pulled the tendrils into a ponytail and secured it with the elastic she’d been wearing around her wrist. “Have you looked into other politicians? Who does Andre hang out with?”

  Rhett pulled out his phone and sat down in the recliner. He brought up his email and clicked on one with four attachments. He handed her the device and she opened the first picture—one of Andre dressed in a light-blue suit leaving one of the popular nightclubs in the Keys. In the second, he was at an art event and had his arm around a woman she didn’t recognize. The third picture was of him at a basketball game with a handful of guys, one of whom had a very familiar face.

  “Who’s that?” she asked, showing Rhett the screen.

  “Ah. That’s Renton Stone. He’s a Florida congressman as well, but from a different district. Mandy sent me those images this morning, and she’s found out some interesting facts about Renton.”

  Peyton shuffled closer so her full weight sat on the chair’s arm. “I’m listening.”

  “Renton has two assault charges from college. Both cases against younger female students.”

  She stared at the emerald-green eyes and dark hair. His smile was cool, confident, and charismatic. “How long ago was that?”

  “He’s forty-one now, so about eighteen years ago.”

  She scrunched up the corner of her mouth. “Isn’t that a little too far in the past? You’d think there’d be something recent if he were involved.”

  Rhett’s hand fell to her knee. “Not necessarily. Once a creep, always a creep. After the charges, he probably learned to keep his cool and save his fetishes for paid hookers.”

  She read Mandy’s note at the bottom of the picture and lifted the tip of her pinky to the screen. “It says here he’s congressman of district eight.” She tilted her head. “How far is that from Key West?”

  “Key West is part of district twenty-six, which Andre’s congressman of, and district eight is Palm Bay and the surrounding area.”

  “That’s a few hours away.”

  “Six, to be exact,” Rhett said. He circled his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

  If the conversation weren’t so serious, her mind would be going in an entirely different direction. “Hmm. Seems like a long way to travel just for hookers and blow.”

  “I agree,” he said, massaging her neck. “But look at the next picture.”

  She opened the final attachment—a grainy image of what looked to be a profile shot of Congressman Stone climbing the stairs to the entrance of one of Key West’s finest hotels.

  “Where was this taken?”

  “Street camera on the night of Raquel’s death.”

  She bounced on Rhett’s knee to face him. He winced and steadied her hips to keep them from wiggling any more.

  “That’s huge,” she wheezed.

  “Yeah. Mandy’s doing more digging to see if he has any properties in the area, anything else that can further tie him to Key West, but I think this is our
strongest lead.”

  “Can you arrest him?”

  “Best we can do is bring him in for questioning, but Lieutenant Jackson won’t allow us to do that unless we have all our ducks in a row.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “That’s ridiculous. You have proof Renton Stone and Andre are friends, and that Stone was in the same city as Andre on the night of Raquel’s murder.”

  “But we have nothing to prove he was with Andre at that time.”

  Rhett’s phone chirped in her hand, and she jumped before shoving it at his chest.

  He snickered and read the screen. The smile fell from his lips. “It’s Mandy.” He swiped to answer and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  Peyton itched to rest her head on his shoulder so she could listen to the other half of the conversation, but that’d likely be too obvious. Rhett swirled the ends of her ponytail around his hand as he listened.

  “No shit.” He scoffed. “We need to check it out. Text me the marina’s address and Stone’s slip number.” He disconnected, picked her up by the waist, and stood, dropping her to her feet.

  “What is it?”

  Rhett’s demeanor had shifted. His movements were jerky as he snagged his keys off the kitchen counter. “Stone has a boat docked in long-term parking at a marina. It could be nothing, but I need to check it out. I can drop you off with Mandy while—”

  Irritation sizzled over her tongue. “I’m coming with you.” She stormed past him and shoved her feet into her sandals.

  Rhett pressed his palm into the door above her head, stopping her from opening it. “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know where Stone is right now, and if there’s heat circling about Jenny remembering Raquel’s attacker, he could be trying to hide evidence—or escape.” Anxiety creased the skin at his temples. “Please, stay back. For me. I’ll worry less knowing you’re safe.”

  She positioned her hand on her hip. “I appreciate that and all, but you said you wouldn’t leave me again after what happened at the hotel. I’m safer with you and you know it.”