Straight Shooter

by Samantha Keith

  The grumble brought a smile to her lips. “I was wondering if you’re going to shave this,” she said, tapping his whiskers.

  He caught her hand. “I plan to at some point.” One eyelid cracked open. “How’s your hand?” He nodded at the one tucked between them.

  At the hospital, the doctor had numbed her pinky and set it in a heavy splint attached to her ring finger. Now, the pain was returning. She forced a smile. If Rhett knew she was hurting he’d urge her to take the pain pills. She didn’t want to feel loopy right now.

  “I’m fine.” She lifted her head to view the clock on the nightstand. “We slept late.”

  His fingers moved to her shoulder and toyed with her skin. She let her cheek fall back down to his chest and focused on the beating of his heart.

  “You kept saying you wanted to go home.” Rhett’s voice vibrated against her face.

  She closed her eyes. She’d said a lot after taking the pain meds last night and could only hope she hadn’t revealed something that would embarrass the hell out of her.

  She made a face. “I don’t like hospitals much.”

  “You said it here.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I was a little off last night.”

  “Hmm.”

  Heat scorched her face and she racked her brain trying to remember every detail of what had happened after he bundled her in his rental car at the hospital. “What else did I say?”

  “Nothing.” His lips firmed nonchalantly. “Why are you nervous?”

  She drew her head back. “Rhett Callahan, tell me right now.”

  His deep chuckle reverberated around the room. He hugged her closer to his chest, which did nothing to cool her flaming cheeks.

  “I tucked you into bed—and no, we didn’t have sex, even though it killed me to cuddle with you half naked all night.” His hand slipped down her bare skin and goosebumps erupted over her flesh.

  She shoved his side. “Tell me.”

  “You kissed my cheek and told me you wanted to go home . . . with me.” His dark-gray eyes swung to her, their color rivaling that of the storm they’d ridden together only nights before.

  A ball of nervousness rolled around in her belly. Lord, she’d never take pain meds again if they made her say stupid things.

  It’s not stupid. It’s what I want . . .

  The words came from the deepest depths of her heart. Rhett’s fingers caught a strand of her hair and moved it behind her ear. “Is that what you want, Priss? To move in with me?”

  She drew in a huge breath and shifted her gaze to the turquoise sheet on his chest. She wanted him more than anything, but did she deserve him? He was a fed for god’s sake. She couldn’t even entertain the thought of him wanting to be with her—a criminal.

  He grazed her jaw with his thumb. The gesture was so gentle, intimate. She tangled her fingers in his and brought their joined hands to his chest. Yesterday, she’d sworn to god that if she made it out alive, she’d take the chance at happiness: she’d change, she’d make things work with someone, and she’d love.

  He didn’t move. His serenity, the compassionate way he didn’t press her, filled her with even more certainty. She lifted her lashes and met his stare. His eyebrows hung low over his gray irises, waiting.

  She wet her lips. “Yes. That’s what I want. If it’s not too soon . . .” She grimaced, and shyness tugged at her mouth. God, who was she kidding? She’d been with him only three days.

  His laugh kicked a hole in her gut. “Under normal circumstances, I’d probably run for the hills at the thought of moving in with someone after less than a week.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “But this is different. You’re different. Hell, I’ve witnessed more sides of you in the last seventy-two hours than I have with a girlfriend of six months. I’d say we’re right on track.”

  Her heart swelled behind her ribs, and she circled her arm around him. He kissed the crook of her neck and his whiskers tickled her. “Okay, since I don’t lie, I have to confess something.” The somberness of his voice made her pull back a few inches.

  He settled her weight on his chest so she was lying on top of him. Resting her injured hand on his shoulder and her other hand on his cheek, she narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  Mischief danced across his face. He nipped her chin with his teeth. “You didn’t say that last night.”

  “What?” Indignation flared through her.

  He caught her hand when she went to pinch him. “I’m sorry! Geez. Hear me out.”

  “Go,” she said on a growl.

  “I just want to be near you, Priss. All the time. I don’t know what the hell that means yet, or where it’ll go, but it feels right.” His hands moved to her lower back and warmed the skin there. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. Honestly, I didn’t think you were that messed up from the drugs. I thought you would’ve called me on my bullshit.”

  She pursed her lips. “Why did you lie?”

  His smile faded, and he squeezed her naked ass cheek before dragging his hands up to cup either side of her face. “Because I wanted to ask you to move in with me but was scared you’d think I was crazy.”

  She wriggled tighter against his chest. “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

  “I’m okay with that if it means I get to do this.” His mouth dragged to her cheek. Her back arched, and she sighed as his hands roamed over her backside. “I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you.” He lifted her injured hand and kissed her knuckles and then the splint.

  His lips were soft and warm. She caught his jaw in her palm. Tears tickled her eyes. Very few people in her life had shown her love and affection—her adoptive parents had, but something had always been missing. Dani had too, but it wasn’t the same. With Rhett, there was no limit to the intimacy he lavished on her. Hell, her longest boyfriend had lasted a year, and the connection between Rhett and her blew what she’d had with Dylan out of the water.

  Rhett’s the real deal.

  He kissed her palm, and the skin around his eyes crinkled into soft lines that only accentuated how handsome he was. Butterflies beat against her ribcage.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  A muscle in his forehead twitched. “For what?”

  “For being you.”

  He grinned, revealing his perfectly even white teeth that she couldn’t wait to feel nipping her skin. “No, thank you.” He hooked his arm around her waist and flopped her onto her back.

  Ring, ring!

  He dropped his head. “Shit. That’s probably Lieutenant Jackson.” He caught her nipple between his lips, sucked, and then sprang from the bed. “Don’t move.” The sheet fell away from his body and exposed the cords in his arms and legs. His quad muscles flexed, and she dragged her gaze over the thick, full erection between his legs. He stepped into a pair of black briefs as he answered the call.

  “Rhett speaking.” The gruff, throaty sound told her exactly how irritated he was by the interruption. God, he was glorious. Tanned, built in all the right places, and genuine to boot. He winked at her and pointed to the kitchen. “Coffee?” he mouthed.

  Her bones turned to butter.

  She’d fallen fast and hard for Rhett Callahan.

  * * *

  “Yes, sir.” Rhett filled two mugs with the black elixir and reached for the cream and sugar. He’d already given his statement at the hospital the previous night, while the doctor had looked after Peyton’s finger. His mind had been racing a mile a fucking minute with worry—why he’d fretted so much over her finger was beyond him. Hell, he’d barely flinched when they took the bullet out of the spot a couple of inches away from his collarbone, but seeing the wound on her dainty hand had jarred the shit out of him. He brought his attention back to his conversation with Jackson, which took great effort. “I’d like to know the depth of Eric’s relationship with Beanie.”

  “We’re getting to that. For now, the focus is setting the record straight on who killed Raquel. Between the text messages on V
icky’s phone and Jenny’s new statement, plus what Beanie confessed to Ms. Risk, well, it’s pretty incriminating for him.”

  “And Andre and Donatello Moretti? They’re not off the hook, are they?”

  “Hell no. We have on record from Andre’s other partners that he’s rough in bed, which coincides with Beanie’s statement that he basically finished the job—Beanie’s claiming he didn’t realize how injured she already was, but that’s something for the courts to decide. For now, they’re both accomplices to murder.”

  “And Moretti?”

  “We arrested Officer Jeremiah James this morning for giving out Jenny’s location. There’s an internal investigation being conducted as we speak to determine how he got access to that information.”

  “Someone higher up in the police department is involved.”

  “Undoubtedly. As for Moretti, he’s facing numerous charges. From what I’ve heard, Jeremiah is hitting opera-singer octaves to minimize his own sentence. Moretti won’t have a fighting chance.”

  Rhett stirred Peyton’s coffee and then his. “Good. And Mandy and Eric?”

  “Mandy suffered a concussion but will return home today. Eric’s in stable condition.”

  “Has it hit the news yet?”

  “No. I’ll issue a statement later this afternoon. For now, good work. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Ms. Risk, but from what Mandy’s said, she’s a keeper. Don’t screw it up.”

  Rhett smiled despite the little jab. Jackson was a devoted husband to his wife of forty years. He’d never shown a soft side on the job, so hearing the old romantic warmed Rhett’s bones. He turned to see Peyton standing in the doorway. His blue T-shirt hung down to her knees and her wild, strawberry-blonde locks framed her face and curled over her breasts.

  His heart stopped. Lieutenant Jackson’s voice fell away from him and the world tilted beneath his feet. Peyton was his forty years, his forever.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  He hung up with Jackson as she crossed the kitchen. She picked up one of the mugs and sipped. “Ah, you’re a god.”

  He grinned and pulled her against his side. Her soft scent filled his nostrils and her body fit into his side like the perfect puzzle piece. Damn, he was getting soft. He dipped his head and brushed a kiss against her temple. “That’s what you said last night.”

  “Ha.” She nudged him and sipped. “That’s yet to be determined.”

  He drank from his mug and tried to catch the twirling words in his fog-thickened brain. “So, your place or mine?”

  She knitted her brow together and her golden eyes, no longer streaked with pain and fear, settled on his face. This close, he could study the splattered freckles over the bridge of her nose.

  “To live?”

  “Yeah.” The sound slid easily off his tongue, hiding the tightness in his throat.

  “Mmm.” She wiggled against his side, stirring every sexual thought his mind could conjure. “Let’s spend a few days at your place when we get home and decide then.”

  “Good call.”

  Her free hand went to her shoulder awkwardly, and he wanted to kiss away the insecurity behind her lashes. He didn’t need to ask what was going on in her beautiful head. Whether she liked it or not, he’d come to sense her feelings. After her confession about her childhood and the baggage she carried, her insecurity became clearer.

  “We’ve got one more thing to talk about, Priss. And you might not like it.”

  She stretched the corner of her lips. “What are you talking about?”

  “You, my darling”—he took a swig of his coffee—“know we can’t keep this up the way things are. Are you done stealing?”

  Her lips worked into a pucker, and it took all his self-control not to kiss her. She tapped her fingernail to her mug, and for a second, he mentally kicked himself in the ass. He was pressing her, dammit, and she’d been through a lot of shit the last week. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was giving her an ultimatum, but he also couldn’t drop his career and go against the law to make a living with her. His gut twisted as he waited for her reply.

  If she didn’t want out, his life had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

  She set her mug on the counter, took his from his hand and set it down as well, then turned in his arms. “What if I say no?”

  He tilted his head. Physically biting his tongue, he forced himself to think of something—anything—that would sway her and not piss her off. Heat crawled up his throat, and he scratched his warming skin.

  “I . . . uh . . .”

  She bounced her eyebrows. “Do you seriously think I’d go back to my old ways after what happened? After forming a relationship with you?”

  He sighed. “Hell, Priss. No, I don’t think you’d do that. I just want to make sure I’m not making assumptions.” He circled his hand around her bicep. “I care about you, babe.”

  The lines in her forehead softened, and the electrical storm of her brewing temper fell flat with her tentative smile. “I care about you, too. Yes, I’m done. One hundred percent.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “For the record, I’m not quitting just because of you. This experience scared the crap out of me, and I realized that I’ve got a lot I want to do in my life. If I ever want those dreams to come to fruition, I can’t be a thief.”

  Relief loosened the tension gripping his joints. Admiration rooted itself in his heart. Heck, he’d admired Peyton from day one. She hadn’t cracked under pressure, even when that bastard Beanie was planning to rape and torture her, hadn’t lost her footing when she was interrogated in the yacht, and had held her own when they’d jumped in the fucking ocean and could have been killed or died of hypothermia. Not many people could have withstood what she had in such a short time, and the fact that she was putting the rest of her life ahead of her and not staying locked in old, familiar habits showed him just how strong she truly was.

  Now, he knew what her dreams were: stability, love . . . and children.

  He nipped the tip of her finger. She caught his cheek, and he lowered his forehead to hers. “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”

  “Good. Now let’s book our flight home. I just want to get settled with you.”

  He hugged her to his chest. “Me too, Priss.”

  One way or another, he’d show her how much she meant to him. Their life together was just beginning, and he planned to ensure her dreams came true—every one of them.

  EPILOGUE

  Ten months later

  “How are you feeling?” Dani asked.

  Peyton smiled and ran her hand over her swollen belly for the hundredth time. “Fantastic now.” She picked up the wooden sign Rhett had crafted. The name Clarkson was engraved on the espresso-stained wood.

  Dani picked up the screwdriver from the changing table and shooed her out of the way. “Don’t you dare. You’ve got precious cargo.”

  Peyton rolled her eyes and propped her hand on her hip. “You’re babying me as much as Rhett does.”

  Dani stuck out her tongue. “You’re pregnant. Besides, you deserve it. Enjoy. From what I hear, you won’t sleep for the next two years or so. Better rest while you can.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Peyton waved that off. All the struggles would be worth it.

  “I’m serious. I need you back to work. The business won’t last long without you.” Dani held up her hand, stopping herself. “I mean, I’ll handle things, don’t worry. I want you to enjoy the next few months off.”

  As soon as Peyton returned from Key West, Dani had started begging her to join her event-planning business. She’d been hinting since she started it that Peyton would be an asset to her team. But Peyton had been stubborn, hadn’t wanted to change her ways, and hadn’t wanted to impose on Dani’s business.

  Dani wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  Peyton had joined her business eight months ago and had just finished her last week of work yesterday. Now it was time to get herself ready
for the baby. She patted the top of her belly and was rewarded with a swift kick to her spleen. She jerked.

  Dani leaped off the stepladder. “Did he kick? Let me feel!” She placed her hands eagerly on Peyton’s belly, and a wide grin split her face. “Clarkson, this is your auntie Dani. I’ll be there for all the sugar your mom denies you.”

  Peyton swatted her shoulder.

  “Ouch. Sorry, I meant I’ll be there for cuddles.”

  “Hey, now. Don’t hog the belly.” Rhett breezed into the room, and Peyton laughed as he nudged Dani out of the way, dropped to his knees in front of her, and rested his large, warm palm on the side of her stomach.

  The baby stopped kicking.

  Rhett groaned and dropped his head forward. Peyton and Dani laughed.

  “C’mon, ladies, you’ve been in here all afternoon,” Brock said, entering the room.

  Dani cast him a glance over her shoulder. “Excuse me, look at all the baby clothes we washed. And we arranged the diapers, hung the curtains, made the crib—”

  “And you both did a wonderful job. But Rhett and I had the brunt of the work assembling all the furniture.”

  Dani rolled her eyes and Peyton chuckled. God it felt good to have her family around her, celebrating the baby. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, and Rhett stood and wrapped his arm around her. “C’mon, I’ve got the food ready.”

  Ding-dong!

  “That’s Serena and Milo,” Dani said, bouncing on her toes. “I’ll get it.” She rushed out of the baby’s room and everyone followed her down the stairs.

  Rhett clasped Peyton’s hand as she descended the stairs of their new home. Immediately after returning from Key West, she’d moved into Rhett’s apartment. But four months later they’d been surprised when she’d found out she was pregnant and they’d sold his place for a single-family home.

  It felt right. Everything did.

  Rhett kissed her hand as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I love you,” he said softly.

  Warmth tickled her heartstrings, and she circled her arms around his waist. He was everything she’d ever wanted and had given her more than she’d ever dreamed of in such a short time.