“Shut up. I don’t want to hear a word from either of you.” Mandy sat on the desk in front of him, still holding the gun loosely in her fingers.
She’d slip up, and as soon as she did, they’d both be in prison—or dead. Preferably the former, but he’d do whatever it took to get Peyton back. If he didn’t hurry and get information out of them, Peyton would be fucked.
His gut twisted, and hopelessness gnawed through the steel nerves holding him upright. He had to pull it together and outsmart Mandy.
“We don’t have much time.” Mandy’s no-nonsense voice dominated the room. Her mouth, which usually had a friendly smile for him, was a terse, spent line. “Rather, Peyton doesn’t, I should say. So cut the bullshit and listen to me.”
* * *
“Move!” Len shoved the center of her back, propelling her forward. Peyton stumbled over the floor and ducked her head to avoid hitting the ceiling. An acidic stench clung to the moist basement, reminding her of rotting oranges. Only no such fruit was in sight. Then the meaty odor of blood assaulted her as she was pushed into a dark room.
Chills overtook her body and her knees knocked together. A small rectangle of yellow light ate up a chunk of the otherwise black room. Bare feet hung limply against the legs of a chair. A scream pushed through the back of her throat, and she pressed her knuckles into her mouth to muffle the sound.
Rivulets of blood rolled down exposed calves.
“Nap time’s over.” Len hit a switch behind her head, and a single bulb dangling from the ceiling burst on.
She blinked until her eyes could make out the figure restrained in the chair. Her pulse sped like a speedboat, and she ran forward. “Max!” Dropping to her knees she searched his face. Purple bruises surrounded his eyes, which were swollen into slits, and black ooze coated his grayish lips. She grabbed his listless hand tied to the arm of the chair. His cold, clammy skin shocked fear into her heart.
“What did you do to him?” Her shriek bounced off the walls. She leaped to her feet and charged Len, but he caught her fist as she threw it at his face and shoved her backward.
“Watch yourself,” he said on a low growl.
Her chest tightened with each breath. The concrete floor’s hard, damp surface froze her bones. She cast another look at Max. His eyes fluttered open and landed on her as if the effort had taken the last of his strength. She swallowed and pleaded with her eyes for him to hang on.
She’d get him out of this. One way or another.
Footsteps pounded on the rickety stairs. Her blood pressure galloped over the rhythm of the stomps, driving out all intelligible thoughts from her head. Beanie. He’d get his revenge now. She stared at the burn marks on Max’s forearms and the unnatural angle of the bones in one of his fingers.
Her fate would be worse.
Beanie stepped into the room, and his laser-focused gaze singed her. Thick, raised skin surrounded the split in his forehead. Crimson coated the front of his T-shirt, and his hand was balled around the material he’d used to staunch the wound. The uneven ridges of his teeth showed through his slightly open mouth. He took a step forward. Her body screamed at her to run, to fight, to do something other than stand there like a whimpering idiot.
The adrenaline bursting from her heart turned to solid matter in her veins. She couldn’t leave Max. Couldn’t attack two armed men with her bare hands. And couldn’t beg for mercy where it wouldn’t be shown.
The cracks in her quickly drying lips craved moisture, but she didn’t dare make even the smallest movement. Fury flared from Beanie’s stare. Then he shifted his gaze to Max’s crumpled form and took a step closer to her friend. He cupped the top of Max’s head, the only part of him not battered, and turned it to get a better look at his face.
“Yikes. We sure did a number on him, didn’t we? Think you want to talk now?”
Alertness flickered in Max’s blue eyes and then waned.
“Huh. That so?” Beanie dropped his head and zeroed in on her. “Max let us down, Peyton. If you hadn’t gotten caught on Moretti’s ship, we wouldn’t be here.”
She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand. Confusion sizzled through her brain. She glanced between Beanie and Max and reality sunk into her core. If Max had let Beanie down, it was because Beanie had hired him . . . and her.
“B-But . . .” She shook her head.
Beanie dropped his head in annoyance. “C’mon, you’re just figuring this shit out? You think I’ve been after you just because Moretti wanted Jenny’s location?”
She unglued her tongue from the roof of her mouth and fit the pieces of the puzzle together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. “If you wanted Jenny’s address, why didn’t you just take it for yourself? Why hire Max and get me to do it?”
He turned to Len and made a gesture of confusion. “Can you believe this shit?” He whipped his hand out and struck Max in the cheekbone. Max howled and jerked up his head. “You said this bitch was smart.”
Guilt overrode self-control. She stomped forward and wedged herself between Max and Beanie. “Leave him alone.” The snarl trembled from her lips, but she’d be damned if she let them hurt Max further. He needed medical attention, and quickly.
Beanie snapped out his hand and caught her neck. A squeak erupted from her lips and her shoulder gave out under the pressure of his grip. He towed her toward him, drawing her body against his front. “You fucked this up. You’re the reason Max is here in the first place. All you had to do was get a piece of paper and get off the ship.”
She jerked away from the heat of his body, but his hold remained. Her knees shook.
“I hired you so I could keep my fucking hands clean. If Moretti had any clue I was the one who killed that slut, he’d have me in jail and Andre acquitted with the snap of his fingers.”
Strength suddenly flooded her weakening muscles. “You killed Raquel?” she whispered.
Beanie’s eyes narrowed into two gleaming lines. “Yeah. Looks like you’ll be next.” He snickered and let go of her neck with a shove. She tumbled backward and landed on her butt at Max’s feet. Beanie slithered his gaze over her bare knees to her cut-off shorts and white tank top, and his eyes blazed with desire. She inched backward and drew her knees to her chest. She had to keep him talking until she could figure a way out.
“But Andre was there when it happened. He must be involved.”
Beanie snorted and threw back his head. “That douchebag was so fucked up. He wasn’t even in the room when it happened. Doesn’t even remember me dropping by for a smoke and banging his hooker. He called me crying after I left saying he killed her.”
Len’s laughter roared through the room. “Andre’s such a pussy.”
“Why’d you kill her?” She pushed the words through her quickly closing throat. Her skin crawled over her bones. If she didn’t get out of this mess, Beanie would be free to hurt more people and Moretti would kill Jenny Carter.
Beanie’s mouth hitched up. “She didn’t realize how rough she liked it. She tried to bite my cock and I choked her out a little too long, but that’s what happens when you’re coming.” He shrugged and turned to Len. “Get her up. We’ve got twenty minutes to get the address from her pretty fucking lips, and I want to enjoy every second.”
CHAPTER 19
Rhett drew one breath in through his nose, then again. He didn’t take his gaze off Mandy. She propped the weapon on her lap, no longer holding him at gunpoint.
“You’ve been shot, and based on what you’ve said I can see why you would suspect there’s someone working from the inside. It’s not us, okay? We’ve been a team for two years. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
He sucked the moisture out of his tongue, wanting to believe her.
“We can’t turn on each other. Let’s put our heads together with the information we have and find Peyton before it’s too late.”
“You held a gun to my head,” he said calmly.
“You still think we’re fucking in
on this?” Eric’s high-pitched whine grated on Rhett’s last nerve.
He swung his attention to the idiot with the rag clutched to his gushing nose and the sliver of doubt that had taken shape ten minutes ago split open wider.
Mandy dropped her head to the side and rolled her eyes damn near to the back of her head. “You were about to put a bullet in Eric’s face. What was I supposed to do?”
He glanced from Mandy to Eric and dropped his elbows on the desk. Sonofabitch, he’d been wrong. By making an impulsive accusation he’d set off his team, and their reactions had only fueled his suspicion. Mandy was armed and if she were working for Moretti she could have shot him and wiped her hands clean of this whole situation—not try to mend the trust he’d thought was broken and continue to crack the case. “Shit,” he breathed.
Mandy patted his hand lightly, bringing him out of his self-loathing. “It’s all right, dude. We all make mistakes. You’re forgiven.”
“Speak for yourself,” Eric moaned.
Rhett didn’t spare him a glance but nodded at Mandy. “Thanks.”
“Now, like I said. Listen to what I have to say.” She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a folder. “Moretti’s due for a Senate meeting in Washington next week. According to the itinerary provided by his secretary, he’s staying in the Keys until then.”
Impatience rattled his bones. He bounced his knee up and down and fought the urge to drag his hands over his face. If he didn’t start moving soon, he’d combust. “Can you cut to the chase, please?”
She compressed her lips. “I did some digging and it turns out Moretti owns two properties in the Keys: the house Raquel was killed at and a small beach house they keep as a vacation-rental property. Eric”—she nodded in his direction—“was able to hack into the site that they book their rentals through to view their calendar. This week is open and the rest of the season is booked solid.”
“That’s where they are.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Has to be.”
He shoved himself to his feet and the chair toppled backward. Mandy followed and Eric moseyed behind them.
At the door, he held out his hand. “I’m going to need my Glock.”
Mandy pursed her lips, reached behind her, and slapped it in his palm. “Behave.”
Rhett turned to Eric and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry about your nose. I was wrong to jump to conclusions.”
Eric pulled the rag away and dabbed at the last drop of fluid lingering at his nostril. He nudged Rhett in the rib. “It’s all right. Women make us crazy, and I saw what pathetic shape she had you in from the moment you boarded the coast guard’s boat. You’ve got my pity.”
Mandy smirked and pulled open the door. Heat crept over Rhett’s cheeks, but he didn’t slow down his determined stride to where the car waited in the parking stall out front of the office. First, he had to get Peyton back. Then he could explore the rush of “pathetic” emotions clogging his vessels.
“You, in the back,” barked Mandy. She got in and gestured for him to sit next to her. The first aid kit she’d taken from the office sat on her lap.
Rhett made a face. “Now’s not the time, Mandy,” he said, as Eric pulled out of the parking spot. “I won’t be able to sit still long enough for you to fix it up, and I don’t want to.”
“That’s the easy part,” she said, opening the box. “You have no choice but to sit still in a moving vehicle. What are you going to do when we apprehend these guys and you pass out from blood loss?”
“I’m not carrying your ass either,” Eric chimed from the front seat.
Mandy chuckled. “He’ll be fine. Now hold still.”
Rhett huffed but let her clean and bandage the bullet wound on his chest. He set his teeth against the pain and his skin went numb when it should have burned. The agony of the bullet’s entry paled in comparison to his pulsating terror. Until he had Peyton back safely, nothing else mattered. Mandy’s voice droned on as she ripped off a strip of medical tape and secured it to his skin. He tuned out the sound and focused on the road through the windshield in front of Eric.
“How much farther?”
Eric lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror and nodded at the GPS on the dash. “Three miles ahead. Hold on, boss. We’ll get her.”
“Probably should’ve called for backup.”
Mandy lifted her shoulder. “Let’s check it out first. We have enough cause to search. You witnessed Moretti’s guard take her, so he’ll have trouble denying his involvement.”
The vehicle slowed, and Rhett shook off Mandy’s fluttering hands. He repositioned his shirt and sat on the edge of the seat. He hated riding in the back—but he hated not driving more. Eric drove at a fucking snail’s pace. The small house with bright-yellow siding finally came into view.
“Not many people in this area,” Rhett mused.
Mandy smacked her lips. “Nope. It’s pretty exclusive in these parts. Must be nice to have his kind of cash.” Her tone rang with jealousy.
Unease thickened in his gut, turning the acid to the consistency of motor oil. A Cadillac Escalade took up most of the driveway, and there wasn’t another car in sight. Apprehension knocked against his eardrums. Peyton had been stuffed into the trunk of a silver sedan.
Something’s not right.
Eric shifted into park and Rhett shot from the car, removing his gun from its position behind his back.
“Wait,” Mandy called, but he didn’t slow.
He pounded on the door. No sound came from inside. He peered into the glass next to the door as Mandy and Eric hustled up behind him. Taking a step back, he lifted his foot, ready to boot the solid wood. The jolt took the wind from his chest and the deep, throbbing pain from the bullet returned. He grunted and swallowed back a curse. He couldn’t get weak now. He had to ride every wave of adrenaline until he found Peyton. He wouldn’t die from an upper pectoral wound. Blood loss might hinder him, but as far as agility went, he wasn’t losing too much stamina—it just hurt like a bitch if he didn’t keep moving.
A lock released, the metal snapping. He dropped his shoe back to the wooden step and pressed his knuckles to the door, opening it. The receiver would have taken another ten fucking seconds accomplishing the same task.
A young guard stood there, and Rhett immediately identified him as Micah. He’d had the decency to offer up a blanket after Rhett had rescued Peyton from being raped on Moretti’s ship, but not enough decency to step in and stop Beanie from violating her.
Rhett flipped open his badge. “FBI. We’re here to speak to Mr. Moretti—pronto.”
Micah’s yellowish-green eyes flared with distaste, undoubtedly because Rhett had been undercover and could expose every fucking guard for something or other that he’d witnessed in the six weeks he’d worked alongside them.
“One minute.”
Moments later, fast-approaching footsteps thundered toward the door. Donatello Moretti took Micah’s place, and his fading hairline lifted in surprise. “Well. To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Callahan? Or should I say Agent Callahan?” He smirked, but tamped anger sizzled behind his emerald-green eyes.
Not that Rhett gave a fuck. He pocketed his badge. “Where is she?”
Moretti’s eyebrows drew together above his nose. “Who?”
Fury fizzled beneath his skin. He slammed his palm against the door, shaking the wood. “Peyton Risk. I witnessed Beanie abduct her over an hour ago.”
Moretti flicked his gaze from Rhett to Mandy and Eric, who stood behind him. Then he stepped back, offering them entrance. “I don’t know anything about this. You’re free to look around. I won’t even ask for a warrant.”
Not missing a beat, Rhett stepped into the house and scanned his gaze over the bleached hardwood floors and pale-blue walls. Seashells and fisherman’s netting decorated the walls. No sign of a struggle. Not even a wrinkle in the crisp white rug at his feet.
“Please round up your guards and anyone in the house so we aren’
t taken by surprise,” Mandy instructed.
Rhett ignored her. Accidentally shooting one of Moretti’s men was the least of his worries. He stormed through the main level of the house, weaving his way through the kitchen to the seating area then back to the living room at the front of the house.
“I’ll look outside,” Eric called, as Rhett took the stairs two at a time to the second level. His insides twisted with every wasted footstep.
She’s not here.
The voice in his head drove his angst to a new level. No, no, no. She had to be here. If they’d made a mistake, if they’d missed a step, Peyton could already be dead. He searched the master bedroom and two secondary rooms—not a fucking thing but a neat and tidy house.
He rounded the staircase and pounded his feet into each step. He locked his tunnel vision on Moretti and closed the distance on his prey. Moretti lifted his hands in surrender, but it was too late. Rhett swept the lapels of his suit jacket into his palms and lifted the slimy bastard off his feet.
“Stop!” said one of the guards. “You can’t do that. He’s a senator.”
“Fuck you,” Rhett spat in his direction. He returned his attention to Moretti despite Mandy’s hold on his bicep. He shook her off as if she were no more than an annoying gnat. “You know where she is. You hired Beanie to do your bidding—or are you forgetting that position was once mine? You ordered me to kill Peyton. You want her dead.”
Moretti’s eyes bulged in his head and his hands shook near his ears. “That was before. Once she escaped with you, I knew she was with the cops. Beanie’s asked for a lot of time off the last few days. If he’s after her, he has his own agenda.”
“Bullshit!” Rhett slammed his fist into the drywall next to Moretti’s head.
Mandy’s hold on his arm turned vicious. He swiveled to face her but didn’t release his death grip on Moretti’s collar.
“I know you’re upset, but you can’t act like this. It won’t get us anywhere.” She turned to Moretti. “Sir, you’re under arrest for suspicion of kidnapping and for ordering Agent Callahan to murder Ms. Risk.” She rattled off his rights as Eric moved forward and cuffed him.
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