“Shit. Are you warm now?”
She nodded.
He removed the hypothermia blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around her body. “It’ll be easier for me to clean it if you lie down.”
She scooted to the floor and lay on her side. Bringing his hand to her knee, he wrapped the blanket around her hip and then tucked it between her knees so it wouldn’t move and expose her.
He reached for the medical bag, which had rolled to the other side of the raft. Waves lifted the boat, but the motion wasn’t violent. Grabbing a clear bottle and gauze, he inspected the three-inch-long cut.
“What’s that?” She eyed the bottle sharply.
“Peroxide.”
She hissed. “That’s going to hurt more than the saltwater.”
“Probably,” he said with a grimace. “Just don’t kick me, okay?”
“I’m not making any promises.”
He popped the cap, positioned the gauze beneath the wound to catch the overflow of blood and liquid, and poured.
“Ah, shit!” She drew up her leg toward her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. Pain twisted her features as she sucked in deep, raspy breaths.
He caught her leg, steadying her, and poured the rest. “Sorry. We need to get it clean.”
She didn’t scream this time, but long, controlled breaths wheezed from her nose.
“Okay?”
She swallowed and snapped open her eyes. “I’m fine. How’s it look?”
“Deep. You’re going to need stitches when we get on land.”
She lifted her head from her arm, and a dark shadow crossed her eyes. “No.” She shook her head. “No hospitals. It’ll be fine.”
“It’s deep, Peyton. You lost a lot of blood.”
“I said no. If I have any complications then I’ll go.”
He bit his tongue to avoid speaking the comment that burned his mouth. Of course she’d have an aversion to hospitals. Most thieves were afraid of being identified through reports of their injuries.
“Are you worried Moretti will look for you?”
She pushed herself into a sitting position. The movement was awkward and self-conscious under the stiff blanket. He kept his focus on her face until she got situated.
“He’ll know I took the lifeboat. All he’d have to do was see if a woman had been brought in and treated for hypothermia and a knife wound. Wouldn’t be hard to narrow down, I’m sure.”
She wasn’t wrong. He’d seen it happen a thousand times. Hell, some criminals who had serious injuries were often killed in the hospital minutes after they were treated. Moretti wouldn’t let it go. He wanted to know who hired her.
“I’ve got some butterfly bandages,” he said, deciding to ignore her comment for the moment. “That’ll hold it for now.” He figured that once she stood and started walking the pressure would be too much for the gash, so he applied three of the bandages along it. Then he wrapped gauze around the area and secured it with medical tape. “All set.” He sat back on his haunches and returned the items to the bag.
She leaned forward and examined the region. The corner of her mouth hitched up into a smirk. “Thanks.”
“I’d say ‘anytime,’ but try not to get into a knife fight again.”
A soft chuckle broke through her lips. “I’ll try.” She dipped her chin and stared at him through lowered lashes. “Thank you—for everything.”
Hell. He’d done what any other decent FBI agent would have done in his position. He shoved his hands in the still-damp pockets of his slacks and shook his head. “Don’t mention it.” The words came out rough and begrudgingly, but she didn’t seem to notice.
He watched her pick at a stray thread on the blanket. “Yeah, well. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead—or worse. So I’m going to mention it.”
“Like I said, just promise me you’ll stay out of trouble now.”
She pursed her lips. “What does that mean?”
He snorted. Why didn’t it surprise him that she’d balk at that? “How about we keep it simple? Don’t do things that could get you killed or imprisoned.”
She grinned. “If I did that, you’d be out of a job.”
Humor lightened her words, but they set his blood boiling.
“After all that just happened, you seriously won’t commit to staying away from this shit?” He gestured at the vast, deadly ocean that could overturn the lifeboat and suck them under in seconds if the wind shifted. He stretched his neck, tilting his head from side to side. He shouldn’t be so bent out of shape about a stranger’s life choices. But . . . she wasn’t a stranger. Her relation to Milo, Serena, and Dani made him feel responsible for her for some fucked-up reason.
The smile flew from her face and her eyes turned glassy. “It was a joke. But to answer your question, no.” She lifted her chin, and the hard angle of her jaw screamed defiance. “I won’t change my life. This is who I am. I can’t change any more easily than you could pick a different career path. So why don’t you save your judgmental bullshit for someone who cares?”
“Judgmental?” The word teetered on a squeak. He laughed and dragged his fingers through his still-wet hair. “I’d hardly call my opinion judgmental. It’s called knowing the difference between right and wrong, and a little thing called self-preservation.”
Her tongue moved along the inside of her cheek and her eyes blazed with fury. “Go to hell.”
He laughed. The sound was brittle and derisive. He flipped open the lid of the first aid kid, retrieved a sealed plastic packet, and tossed it into her lap. “Anti-nausea pills. Take two. Looks like we’ll be here awhile.” The words came out sharper than necessary, but it beat saying something he’d regret later.
He laid himself on the opposite side of the lifeboat with the blanket, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes. He tried to focus on how he’d explain to his lieutenant that he’d destroyed the case, but the memory of Peyton’s delicious, soft skin chased away every other thought. In a few hours he’d be free of her.
And that didn’t sit well with him.
CHAPTER 9
What an ass. Looking at Rhett’s relaxed form, Peyton shook her head and pulled her knees to her chest. The lifeboat’s constant spinning and tossing turned her stomach. Frustration zinged along her nerves, but she wouldn’t spill the well of tears in her eyes until she was alone and on solid ground.
Rhett was a good guy—he’d saved her life more than once, and she wasn’t cocky enough to be ungrateful. But he was a fed. And in his mind, he was superior. His words had been cold, accusatory. What he didn’t understand was there was no such thing as clear definitions of right and wrong. Blurred lines and gray areas were what she’d grown up with. Rhett probably needed a textbook to tell him about morals.
Her tongue burned with the need to explain herself to him, but she knew he wouldn’t understand. He’d never see where she stood, would never respect her life choices because they went against what he believed in. If Milo and Serena hadn’t found honest paths, Rhett probably would’ve found a way to lock them up.
Dampness collected under her nostrils and she sniffed it away before catching the tear forming at the corner of her eye. She wouldn’t cry, dammit. Not over a guy. And sure as hell not over an FBI agent who’d turn her in if he knew she’d succeeded at stealing from Moretti.
His distaste for her decisions had wounded her pride. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was as dirty as any other criminal, gray areas be damned.
Dark stubble coated his jaw and faded as it approached the thick, disheveled black hair on his head. Before lying down, he’d unrolled another hypothermia blanket and draped it across his body.
She knew he wasn’t sleeping, but the fact that he could look so relaxed when her temper was flaring and their raft was bouncing irritated the crap out of her. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling then stared out the lifeboat’s open door.
A light moved along the horizon. She frowned and watched the globe grow bigger and bigger,
until blue flashing lights became visible on top. “Rhett, I think I see the coast guard!”
He jumped and snapped into a sitting position. Fatigue ringed his eyes, but he leaped toward the door. “That’s them,” he said. He gripped the side of the doorway as the raft pitched.
“We have to get their attention!” Peyton shuffled over the floor, her hands pinning the flaps of the blanket together as she moved. Her skin pulled at the butterfly bandages, and she winced and clapped her palm over the gauze to hold it in place.
“Don’t rip open that wound.”
She made a face at him, but he kept his stare on the approaching lights. She rifled through the items rolled into the emergency bag and returned to his side. He grabbed the flare gun, loaded the cartridge, aimed, and fired.
Bang!
She clapped one hand to her ear and ducked to keep the blanket from falling off her shoulders. Thick red smoke billowed from the gun, and the flare’s glow lit up the sky. The boat’s lights stopped flashing and then blinked a sequence in signal.
Peyton let out a whoop of excitement and shuffled over to her wetsuit. She reached into the sleeve, where she’d hidden the sandwich bag that held the envelope and her cell phone. If Rhett saw it, he might confiscate the paper.
“Don’t put that back on,” Rhett said, still sitting at the door. “When they get close, I’ll have them throw something you can wear.” She nodded and tucked the bag inside the blanket before positioning herself on her knees. The lights grew brighter as the boat approached. The motor’s hum stirred the peaceful, salty air and prickled her nerves.
She cleared her throat. “Do you think it could be Moretti? What if he called the coast guard and is looking for us?”
Rhett shook his head. “He wouldn’t do that. Too much heat. Besides, my team was calling the coast guard when I spoke to them.”
She wet her lips, and the taste of seaweed clung to her tongue. “What if he’s got them on his payroll? We know he has that cop—Jeremiah. It’s not far-fetched there could be others.”
“No doubt there are. But he’d utilize them carefully. Searching the waters for a woman he’d ordered his guards to kill would draw a lot of attention.”
The boat approached, kicking up the waves and tossing the raft around as if it were a wild lily pad. Trepidation pierced her skin, and her already cold extremities tingled. If it was Moretti and his men, there’d be no way out this time. She sat erect as she searched the darkness, trying to identify someone on board the slowing boat. Her heart rate tripled, and she curled her hand around the blanket until her fingertips went numb again.
The boat turned so its port side faced them. Two flashlight beams hit her face, and she turned her head away from the glow.
“It’s me, dammit!” Rhett’s annoyed shout settled some of her nerves.
One of the flashlights clicked off and the other swung away from her face. “Sorry, man,” a male voice shouted back. “Just making sure. Is anyone injured?”
Rhett glanced over his shoulder, slid his gaze over her partially naked body, and then looked back at the boat. “Yes. Injured female. She has a knife wound on her leg, and hypothermia is a concern. Do you have a dry sweater or coat she can put on? She’s wearing only a hypothermia blanket.”
“One second.”
A minute later Rhett passed her an oversized zip-up sweater.
“Here, I’ll block the door.” Rhett balanced on his knees and spread his blanket across the opening.
The faint scent of cigarettes stung Peyton’s nostrils as she fingered the material. She wrinkled her nose but fit her arms through the sleeves and let the blanket fall. Though it smelled unpleasant, the sweater still carried the body heat of whoever had warmed it, and she wasn’t in any condition to complain. She zipped it up, tucked the sandwich bag with her phone and the envelope into one of the pockets, and then moved to Rhett’s side.
“Ready.”
He lowered the blanket and caught her arm. His steady hold supported her weight as the raft wobbled. Rhett tossed the lifeboat’s tether to one of the agents on board, and the raft bumped against the boat as it glided closer. The movement made her pitch, and her cheek fell into Rhett’s side. He positioned his arm around her shoulders and inched her in front of him.
A woman wearing a navy-blue jacket with the letters FBI emblazoned on the breast in yellow brushed in front of the other agent, who had a shaved head. “Here, take my hand.” Muscles bulged in her well-worked arm. Relief washed over Peyton as she accepted the woman’s hand. The last thing she wanted was for a guy on board to get an eyeful of her goodies if she toppled backward. The boat rocked as she stood, but Rhett kept his hands around her hips. She put her head through the door first then pressed her foot into the edge of the lifeboat. Less than two feet separated the edge of their raft from the rim of the ship.
“Just step on,” the woman said. “I’ve got you.”
Summoning as much strength into her shaky legs as she could, Peyton pinned the sweater to her thigh and swung her other foot toward the boat’s rim. The woman grabbed her under the arm, and another agent rushed forward for her free hand, propelling her onto the deck.
“Have a seat.” The woman led her to a bench inside and knelt beside her. “I’m Mandy. I work with Rhett. Do you need anything? Water?”
“Water would be great.”
Mandy patted her knee. “Hang tight.”
Through the window, Peyton watched Rhett jump onto the boat. The deck shook beneath his weight. Warm air pumped from the vents, but it didn’t chase away the dampness in her bones. She shivered and tucked her fingers into the too-long sleeves. She needed a scalding hot bath to chase away the tremor in her bones.
“I grabbed your coat,” she heard a male voice say. “Your badge is in the pocket.”
“Thanks, Eric.” Rhett accepted the garment from a gangly agent in a T-shirt. It had to be his sweater she was wearing.
Her gaze drifted over Rhett’s evenly tanned skin, which was littered with goosebumps down to his wet pants. Someone tossed him a blanket, and he swept it around his shoulders. Catching her eye, he nodded at his team then stomped over the wood-paneled floor and entered the boat. He dropped onto the bench next to her.
His mouth lifted in a lopsided grin as he opened up the blanket. “We’ve kept each other warm this long—why stop now?”
Knots formed in her stomach, and she curled her toes against the planks. She couldn’t forget the hurtful things he’d said in the lifeboat, but without him, she’d have been brutally assaulted by a group of men. Rhett might not be her favorite person in the world, but for tonight, he had her vote.
She scooted her butt closer to his hip and curled against his side. The material closed over her shoulders just as Mandy returned. The woman’s gaze slid suspiciously from Rhett to Peyton before she handed Peyton a bottle of water and took her seat across from them.
The motor kicked up and the boat turned and sped off into the night. The blanket whipped around Peyton, and Rhett wrapped her in a bear hug. She closed her eyes to protect them from the blasting wind and buried into his warmth.
When they got to land, reality would set in. Rhett would be out of the picture and she’d have to deliver the paper to Max and get the hell out of Key West. For now, she had at least an hour’s worth of male body heat to absorb. After that, Rhett would be long gone, but his hot masculinity would fuel her fantasies for a long, long time.
Man, I need to get laid—with anyone but Rhett Callahan.
* * *
“Here, you take it.” Rhett pulled the blanket from his shoulders, but Peyton shook her head. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her breasts.
“I’m fine.”
She was anything but fine. The subtle trembling of her shoulders told him that. As soon as the boat had pulled up to the dock, she’d wriggled away from his side, leaving a deep ache in his chest. Mandy had gone to find some shoes for them in the US Coast Guard Station. Eric puffed on a cigarette at the side o
f the boat, out of earshot.
“You’re shaking.” He knew he should let it go, but why the hell did she have to make herself uncomfortable just because she was irritated?
She hunched her shoulders. “And your pants are still wet.”
“You’re half naked,” he said, nodding at her bare legs. She covered the top of her foot with the other, and he stared at her pink toenails. An image of those slim, attractive feet wrapped around his hips entered his mind. He quickly shook it away.
Mandy jogged down the dock and landed on the deck with a thump. “These are mine,” she said to Peyton. “They’ll be big on you, but it’s all we had. I’m sorry, I couldn’t find any spare pants.” She turned to Rhett and smirked. “Found these in the lost and found. I don’t think anyone will miss them.” She held up large sandals with giant yellow sunflowers on top.
He curled his lip and dangled the shoe from his fingertip. “Seriously?”
Peyton snorted and pressed her hand to her mouth. Her shoulders shook. Eric slapped his knee, and his laughter bounced off the ocean. “I have to say, man, those suit you better than your loafers.”
“Ha, ha. So funny.” He jammed his feet into the flip-flops, which had clearly been designed to fit Bigfoot’s wife, and stood. “C’mon, Peyton, we’ll give you a ride to wherever you’re staying.”
Peyton fell into step beside him as they made their way to the Dodge Charger in the parking lot. Her sandals slapped loudly on the pavement, clearly too large for her.
“Where are you staying?”
She gave him the name of her hotel, and he recognized it as one of the fancy ones along the coast. He whistled and bounced his eyebrows. “Swanky.”
She elbowed his side playfully. The contact sent a blast of heat through his core. Every damn antenna in his body was overcharged. The urge to make a snarky comment about how she was able to afford such a glamorous place slid down his throat. With Eric and Mandy present, he didn’t need to point out her record.
Straight Shooter Page 7
