She shrugged. “I’m on business.”
Despite the annoyance picking at him, he smirked. “Yeah, well. Business is closed.” He opened the Dodge’s rear passenger door and waved her inside. He slid in next to her as Eric got in the driver’s seat. Mandy took the front passenger seat.
While Eric drove, Mandy hammered questions at Rhett about Moretti and what had gone down on the yacht. He kept his answers quick and to the point, then Mandy turned in her seat and her green eyes looked over Peyton carefully.
“I’m glad Rhett got you out when he did. Moretti’s a man I wouldn’t want to get caught crossing.” Questions hung off her words, but Mandy must have decided to keep Peyton’s reason for being on board between her and Rhett—for now.
They pulled up to the hotel and Peyton’s body sang at the prospect of dry clothes and a warm bed. Rhett stepped out of the vehicle and held the door for her.
Bright fluorescent lights shone from beneath the carport and a doorman stood at the open door, his free hand behind his back. Rhett leaned into the vehicle. “I’m going to take her to her room. Wait here.”
“No rush,” Mandy called in a singsong voice. “It was nice meeting you, Peyton.”
Eric harrumphed and flicked his hand over his shoulder.
Peyton waved to Eric and Mandy and thanked them for their help. She squinted at him as they walked into the building. “You don’t have to escort me.” The climb in her voice belied her words. The doorman gave her a curious glance and she pulled the sweater tight around her frame.
“I know. I just want to see you off, that’s all. How are you going to get into your room?”
Her shoulders drooped. “Oh my god. I don’t have my key, or my ID.” She stalked to the front desk and propped her elbows on the edge.
Rhett cast a glance around the lobby. He caught sight of a bellboy and followed his line of vision. He was staring directly at the supple skin on the backs of Peyton’s thighs. Desire—followed by fierce protectiveness—blazed through him. He fit his arm around her waist and pulled her against his hip, blocking the bellboy’s—and hopefully everyone else’s—view.
She jumped at his touch, scrunched her features into a cute scowl, and returned her attention to the desk clerk.
“Hello, ma’am, how may I help you?”
“I was involved in a boating incident this evening. I lost my purse, which had my room key and ID.”
“Tsk. I’m sorry to hear that,” said the thin man with a patchy goatee. “What’s your name?”
“Peyton Risk,” she said.
He typed something and asked her to confirm her check-in day, as well as her date of birth. Then the clerk tapped the mouse. His mouth shifted toward one cheek and then the other.
Rhett’s patience waned. “I’m special agent Rhett Callahan with the FBI.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it over the desk. “I can assure you she is who she claims.”
The man’s shoulders inched toward his ears and his eyes widened.
“Is that sufficient?” Rhett said.
“Yes, of course.” The man nodded quickly. “Let me get you your new keys.” He ran two cards through a small machine and tucked them into an envelope, which he pushed across the desk. “Please let me know if I can be of any service.”
“Thank you.” Peyton grabbed the envelope, and they made their way down the hall to the elevators. She pressed the button and the doors coasted open. “Thanks for that. I was afraid he was going to ask for my shoe size and measure my foot.”
Rhett chuckled as she pressed the button for the eighteenth floor.
“It’s a good thing he didn’t see your flip-flops,” she said, clearly fighting off a grin.
“You’re just jealous because you have Mandy’s sensible sandals.”
“Mandy is definitely lacking your flare.”
He lifted his foot and turned it around. “If it weren’t for the itchy flower, they’d actually be comfortable.”
He was rewarded for his silly remark with a smile that reached her eyes. A flutter erupted beneath his breastbone. Tonight he’d witnessed every reaction from her: terror, fury, embarrassment, and even playfulness. One night with her had been like speed-dating the same person—except there was no romantic intention involved. His equilibrium was shaken.
The elevator dinged and they entered the hall. She led the way to her room and his eyes drifted up her back. Her hair was wild around her head, as if she’d driven through a wind tunnel, and her hips swayed beneath the sweater that dusted the tops of her thighs. He shoved his hands in his still-damp pockets.
“This is it.” She swiped the key through the card reader and bumped open the door with her hip. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Thanks for walking me to my room. You really didn’t have to.”
He shrugged. “I’ll sleep better knowing you made it okay.” He lowered his gaze. “How’s your leg?” His fingers itched to lift the corner of the sweater to take a look, but that would be a bad move.
She dropped her hand so it hovered over the area. “It hurts, but I peeked at it earlier and the bandage is holding.”
“Be sure to keep it clean. I can have another look if you like.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she gazed down at her feet and curled her toes. “It’s fine.”
He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and studied her pale cheeks. Something was nagging at him. “Do you feel safe staying here?” The question blurted from his lips before he could stop it. If she didn’t feel safe, she sure as hell wouldn’t tell him. He wasn’t a genius, but criminals typically didn’t want FBI agents hanging around. And, to be fair, he shouldn’t want to be hanging around her either—not unless he was looking for dirt. Peyton’s crimes weren’t at the top of the bureau’s list of priorities, but stealing from California’s wealthy, albeit shady, individuals would land her in jail, and that was the last thing he wanted for her. Too bad she wanted it for herself.
The corner of her lip tucked in, and she toyed with the string on Eric’s jacket. He stilled her hand, and she swung her attention to his face. It bothered him that she was wearing Eric’s sweater over her naked body. It should be his clothes on her, no one else’s. Ah, crap. The last thing he needed was the image of her naked body in his head, and he sure as hell didn’t want to get territorial.
“Yes.” She coughed. “Well, no. I probably won’t feel safe for a while. But there’s no way he knows where I’m staying.”
He returned his hand to his pocket before he did something stupid like touch her again. “You’re sure about that?”
“I didn’t have ID on me when I was on his boat, and you got my phone for me, remember?”
He nodded and clamped his teeth together. Why did leaving her feel like ripping off a limb? He was getting soft. Sleep, food, and a hot shower would set his head on straight. He’d been in protector mode since laying eyes on her. Distance would induce clarity.
She stepped closer, and her round eyes glowed. She lifted her palm and pressed it to the breast of his jacket. “I’m fine, Rhett. Really. You’ve gone above and beyond as an agent and as a friend to Milo and Serena. I’ll arrange a flight in the morning and be out of here no later than tomorrow afternoon.” She rose onto the tips of her toes and brushed a kiss over his cheek. The contact was quick, platonic. A kiss of gratitude. Yet, the softness of her lips and the swell of her hip against his wrist stirred every erotic image in his brain.
“Take it easy.” Cracking a smile, she moved inside the room. Then she lifted her fingers in a delicate wriggle and shut the door, leaving his rock-hard cock to throb a delayed message to his brain: off-limits.
CHAPTER 10
A bright light hit Peyton’s face, and she squinted at the culprit. A small gap in the curtains had allowed a rectangle of sunshine to push away her precious sleep. She flipped over in the king-sized bed to read the clock: 10:03 a.m. Holy moly. The last time she’d slept past 8:00 a.m. was after a night of drinking with Dani. And s
he’d vowed never to do that again. She threw back the covers and tilted her head from one side to the other. Her neck muscles screamed with every movement. She felt as if she’d been hit by a truck.
She turned over her wrists to find purple and red blotches—popped blood vessels—dotting her skin. Looking past her arms, she caught sight of the gauze on her leg. She gingerly peeled back the bandages and examined the now blackish-red gash.
After Rhett had left the previous night, she’d had a scorching-hot shower (being careful to keep her leg out of the spray), ordered room service, and crashed. But she hadn’t been able to chase the FBI agent from her mind.
Dragging her banged-up body to the shower once again, she cranked the water to hot and stepped out of her underwear and tank top. The spray assaulted her sore muscles, so she washed quickly and got out. With a towel knotted between her breasts, she sat down on the bed and picked up her phone from the desk, where it had charged overnight.
Three missed calls and six missed texts.
Good thing she’d shut her ringer off or she wouldn’t have slept a wink. She scrolled through the notifications—most of them from Max and two from Dani. She needed to deal with Max, but talking to her best friend first would lighten a fraction of the anxiety that still weighed on her chest.
Dani answered on the second ring. “Hey! How’s the trip?” The question was a mere nicety. Dani had made it clear that she didn’t want to hear about Peyton’s jobs anymore. Brock, Dani’s fiancé, had stressed to Dani that any knowledge of what Peyton was involved in could make her an accomplice.
Peyton cleared her throat. She didn’t have to tell Dani the details of what she was doing, but she could still tell her about the trauma. Curling her feet under her, she pressed her back to the headboard. “Stressful. Eventful.” She laughed. “I don’t know where to begin without implicating you.”
Silence beat through the receiver. “One small thing at a time. Are you hurt? Did something happen?”
Peyton picked at the terrycloth at her knee. “Some guys assaulted me. I’m fine,” she said quickly. “But I’m still shaken from it.”
“Oh my god.” Peyton heard a door closing in the background. “Do you need me to come there?”
Peyton guffawed. “Brock would have my neck if I suggested that while on a job. No, it’s all blown over now.” She chewed her lip. Would Rhett be angry with her if she told Dani they’d met?
“There’s something else,” Dani said.
No point in trying to hide something from Dani. She knew her better than anyone. “I bumped into Rhett Callahan. You know, the FBI agent.”
Dani’s hiss made her pull the phone away from her ear momentarily. “Of course I know who Rhett is. What . . . how?”
“It’s a long story. One you probably shouldn’t hear.”
“Don’t give me that.”
Peyton smiled, envisioning Dani’s hand on her hip. “Our paths crossed on a job, and, well . . .” She fumbled over the words and shoved her fingers in the tangles of her hair. She’d never had difficulty talking to Dani about things, but she’d yet to wade through the emotions—and the memory of Rhett’s scorching-hot body—that had plagued her over the last twelve hours.
“Peyton.” Suspicion clouded Dani’s voice, and it lowered to a hushed whisper. “Did something happen between you and Rhett?”
“No! Gosh no.” She cleared her throat. “He’s just, uh . . .”
Dani smothered a laugh. “You’ve got the hots for him, don’t you? I can’t say I blame you. But you realize he’s a fed? He’d never throw away his career, even for a woman as gorgeous as you. He’s honorable to a fault.”
Peyton balked and pushed down the sting of Dani’s words that weren’t intended to strike her but did. “God, Dani. I’m not stupid, nor am I looking for a relationship anyway. He’s a hot guy and I’m just”—she waved her hand in the air and huffed—“thrown off from all the chaos of last night. Nothing more.” Even as the words left her mouth, she felt a pang in her chest. Yes, she was attracted to Rhett, and on some level, she also admired his devotion to his career. But she was on the other side of the tracks, and regardless of whether she chose to stay there, her past would never leave her side.
“Good. It would be a disaster. When do you fly out?”
Peyton shoved away the sadness clawing at her heart. She kept herself distant from most guys for many reasons. Getting involved with a guy in the same field never amounted to anything good. Serena and Dani had both had problems with their guys before they’d decided to earn an honest living.
Over the years, she’d had many dates and very little meaningless sex. Men outside her world, the devoted ones, the ones on the straight and narrow, wouldn’t date a criminal. She’d tried once, but as soon as she confessed to Rick, an ex-boyfriend, that she stole for a living, he bailed. She didn’t blame him. Who wanted to date someone who didn’t have dreams or a career? Sometimes she lay in bed at night and thought about what she’d do if she ever quit. She was good with numbers and planning, but what else did she have to offer the world? Those skills suited her criminal undertakings perfectly.
“I missed my flight this morning, so I need to rebook after I talk to—” She coughed. Dani knew Max, and she didn’t want to involve her. “Someone. Hopefully I can leave today if I hurry.”
“I won’t slow you down then. Text me if you need a ride from the airport.”
Peyton thanked her and they disconnected. She quickly dressed in a light sundress, towel-dried her hair, and then dialed Max while she brushed mascara on her lashes.
After several rings, it went to voicemail. “Hey, it’s Peyton. Sorry about last night—I ran into some trouble. Call me as soon as you can.” She hung up and drummed her fingers on the marble countertop. She couldn’t wait in the hotel room all day. Knowing Max, he’d had too many drinks last night and was still sleeping.
He lived several blocks away from her hotel. If she left now, she could be there by the time he woke up. She went to the curtains, stood on a chair, and reached into the challis, where she’d hidden the envelope. She tucked it into her bra—nowhere safer than there—placed her phone in her cross-shoulder bag, shoved her feet in her sandals, and left the room.
At the end of the long hallway, she turned toward the elevator bank and heard a soft ding. Knowing she wouldn’t make it in time to catch the cart, she didn’t pick up her pace.
A man stepped between the steel doors and she skidded to a stop. Light from the chandelier above him bounced off his bald head. He wore a charcoal suit and a bandage over the bridge of his nose.
Beanie.
All her body heat flooded to her toes and she froze on the spot, willing her body to fall invisible. The hum of her blood against her eardrums grew louder and louder, until it overtook the sound of the breath grating through her teeth. He was looking in the opposite direction, so she uprooted her feet from the floor and turned and walked back the way she’d come. She fought to regulate her pace, but her muscles screamed at her to run. A chill inched up her vertebrae, and she peeked over her shoulder.
He was moving toward her, his mouth in a hard, determined line, his brows pinched together over the white bandage, and his eyes focused like a laser on her body.
Those eyes. That sneer. He’d kill her after raping and torturing her. Panic ricocheted through her and flight won out over fight.
She sprinted down the hall. Her flip-flops slapped against the soles of her feet, and the flapping of Beanie’s jacket grew louder. She screamed as she slammed her hands into the stairwell door.
“Help!” The word bounced off the concrete walls, amplifying the sound. The cement stairs jarred her body as she stomped downward, but with each step she moved faster. Her breath came out in hot pants.
“Stop!” Beanie’s shout reverberated around her, gripping her heart. Her chest ached, preventing her from screaming again.
She passed floor after floor. Each level brought Beanie closer. A number whizzed by Peyton’
s line of vision: tenth floor. She could beat him. Guaranteed the big oaf didn’t work out as much as she did. His huffs and puffs fueled her on. She lifted her gaze to the spiraled railing over her head. His cheeks bounced with every step, and sweat rolled down his red face.
He locked eyes with her and stopped.
She clung to the railing and kept going. Whatever had made him stop might save her life. All she had to do was get to the lobby.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Bullets whistled through a silencer. She screamed, covered her head, and ran. There was nowhere to hide. She had to keep moving, stick close to the wall, and pray she could outrun his aim. More bullets rained down, bouncing off the railing, the stairs, the walls. Chunks of cement hit her cheeks and bare legs and gritty dust filled her nostrils.
Her legs turned to Jell-O and her wound throbbed. Fresh heat hinted that the gash had opened.
I’m not going to make it.
* * *
Rhett tapped his thumb on the steering wheel of the rental car. Lieutenant Jackson had been pissed about him losing the case. The phone call hadn’t gone well, but at least his superior understood that Rhett had been stuck between a rock and a hard place, and that protecting civilians came first. Rhett had promised to work on finding an informant within Moretti’s ring by the end of the week.
Too bad all he could do was think about Peyton. The fact that he’d been parked across the street from her hotel for the last hour said a lot about his mental state, but that was territory to explore another day. Leaving her hotel room the previous night had required every ounce of dignity in his body. And then he’d lain awake wondering if the bandages had held up, if she needed anything—hell, he even feared she was still struggling with the chill that had settled deep into his bones.
Peyton’s welfare wasn’t the reason he was stalking her hotel, though. Call him crazy, but he just didn’t believe that the spitting, fiery strawberry-blonde would simply pack up and head home with a job unfinished. Not to mention that whoever had hired her would be pissed the job had fallen through. So she’d either continue to pursue Moretti despite her promise, or her employer would insist she complete the job. The question was, who wanted something of Moretti’s? His investigations of the crooked politician over the last six weeks had told him a lot about Donatello Moretti. He used recreational drugs, hired hookers, and kept his resources—corrupt cops—close to his pocket. Men like Moretti had a lot of enemies. Finding out who’d hired Peyton and why could provide a break in his case, and Peyton held the answers he desperately needed.
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