Rhett caught Mandy before she could follow them out to the car. “You know this isn’t going to help. He’s just going to insist on having a lawyer present, and meanwhile, Beanie’s torturing Peyton.” His body shook with frustration. He was nowhere closer to getting Peyton, and every second that passed ensured she’d be dead by the time he found her.
“You’re forgetting something,” she said.
He frowned. “What?”
“Beanie wants something from you.” She pressed a phone into his hand. “Moretti was nice enough to lend this to you.” She winked and then escorted a scowling Moretti to the vehicle with Eric.
Rhett stepped outside and stared at Moretti’s large head as he ducked into the back seat. The phone sat heavy in his palm. One piece of information he held could blow this whole thing to pieces and bring back Peyton.
Jenny’s location.
CHAPTER 20
“No! Stop!” Peyton thrashed against the restraints and jutted out her foot to catch Beanie in the shin. His bark of pain was momentarily rewarding, before his knuckles slammed into her cheekbone. Her head snapped to the side, allowing him to succeed at tying her wrists to the chair. She heaved a breath of rage, and pain radiated from her cheekbone to her skull.
He’d pay.
Beanie smiled and knelt in front of her. He reached for her curled hand on the armrest and yanked her pinky finger from its tucked position. “Tell me Jenny’s location or I’ll break this pretty little finger.”
Her pulse slowed to a dull hum as she watched his thick fingers circle her knuckle.
“What do you think, Len? Should I break one first or give her a minute to talk?”
She wet her lips. Fear retracted to a spring at the base of her tailbone. Instinct told her to run, to scream, but she couldn’t do a thing. Not with her hands tied. He hadn’t bothered tying her feet, but if she kicked him again, he’d do far worse than backhand her.
“You’ve got nine others to work with. Maybe she’ll talk quicker if you take out the pinky first.”
She tried to curl her pinky back but he held fast. He pressed his other palm down on the top of her hand and lifted her finger straight up. Then he slid his hand into the sensitive groove between her pinky and ring finger. A mewl of terror pressed through her lips, and she shoved down a scream. Squeezing her eyes together, she blocked out their mocking voices as sweat rolled down her neck. Every tendon in her body straightened, anticipating the sharp, piercing pain of her bone snapping.
“You know what? I’m a nice guy. Don’t you think, Peyton?”
Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She didn’t dare open them. If he saw how terrified she was, he’d break every finger in her hand with relish.
“You know Jenny’s location, don’t you?”
Her chest fluttered on shallow inhales.
“Answer me!” His voice shook and spit flung from his bottom lip.
Saliva swarmed in her mouth and she used her tongue to force it down her throat. Ice broke out on her skin, and the searing terror in her veins did nothing to cool it. Admitting that she knew where Jenny was would only endanger Max and her further. She had to stall as long as possible until help came. Then reality crashed down around her. Rhett was likely dead. Grief ripped her heart open.
She’d never see Rhett again. Never hear his laugh or feel his mouth on hers. He’d been in her life for such a short time, but everything he stood for was everything she needed—devotion and nobility. His arms were big enough to swallow every fear and insecurity, to inspire new dreams and a sense of freedom in her.
There was no one to look for her now. But she could still protect Jenny and get Max out alive. She lifted her lashes and stared over Beanie’s shoulder at Max’s slumped body. He met her gaze through one puffy, blackened eye. He blinked, seemingly pleading for her to give up the information, but her doing so wouldn’t help either of them. She had to stay strong, even if Beanie broke her finger—it’d be better than giving up Jenny’s information and dying immediately.
Beanie dropped her hand and stood. “Fine. You don’t seem too concerned about your own well-being.” He took a step back and rounded Max’s chair. Resting his hands on her friend’s shoulders, Beanie leaned forward. Max cowered, and his face contorted with discomfort.
She shot forward in her seat, but the restraints kept her immobile. The muscles in her legs jumped, aching to carry her across the few feet that separated them. Beanie’s stiff fingers dug into Max’s shoulders, and her friend cried out. Her blood heated to a boil.
“As you can see, Max already has a broken hand.” Beanie twisted Max’s wrist.
Max’s scream reverberated off the concrete surrounding them, shaking the walls of her chest. Her heart raced and she closed her eyes.
“Stop!” The raspy plea ripped from her diaphragm.
Beanie dropped Max’s hand.
“I got a baseball bat upstairs. Maybe start with Max’s jaw.” Len’s suggestion released a wave of nausea in the pit of her stomach. The tears that had stung her eyes before seeped out and rolled down her cheeks.
“Leave him alone. He doesn’t know anything.”
Beanie’s mouth lifted into a snarl. “That’s right. But you can save him. Tell me where the envelope is or give me the address—I know you looked at it. You’re too fucking nosey not to have.”
Salty, hot tears coated her lips. She sucked back a sob and shook her head. “I don’t have the envelope. I gave it to Rhett.”
Beanie’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. You were in Max’s apartment. You intended to deliver it to him.”
She straightened in her seat. “How do you know I was there?”
He waved away her question, but a vignette of awareness rippled through her brain.
“I paid Maxy-boy a visit to see if he had the envelope yet. I tried to get it from you first, but you ran at the hotel. Turns out that bitch Vicky was there, and she was a loose end we couldn’t afford to keep.”
Max wailed but grunted and stopped when Len kicked him in the knee. “Shut up.”
“So, you see,” Beanie continued, “all this could have been stopped if you’d just coughed up Jenny’s address like you were paid to do. Now you’re all going to end up dead.” He laughed. The sound was far too light for the moment.
“Jenny remembers you,” she blurted.
His eyes turned beady. “How do you know that?”
“Rhett told me. She keeps recalling images of someone else’s face and wants to rewrite her statement.” The partial lie rolled off her tongue.
“Fuck!” Beanie bellowed. The pale skin on his head turned beet red, and he swung at the air.
“So, you see,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, “if you’re identified, you’ll be nailed for Vicky’s death, Max’s, and mine. You should turn yourself in.”
He rubbed his palm on the front of his jeans. Sweat dotted the skin next to his ears and his eyes darted around. “No. No, she doesn’t remember. She was too fucked up. She couldn’t identify me. It’ll never hold up in court.” He turned his attention to her. “There’s still time.” He closed the gap between them and caught her throat in his palm. She coughed and lengthened her midsection to open her airway. Pain scorched her lungs. The vessels in her eyes screamed.
“You’ve got ten seconds to give me her location, or I blow your brains out.”
* * *
Rhett stalked away from Moretti’s house. His gut twisted in one direction then the other. Calling Beanie could fuck things up even more. If the bastard knew he was alive, Beanie would hold Peyton to his advantage. Hell, if he really wanted to screw with Rhett’s head, he’d kill her right then and there. Over the years, Rhett’s MO had been silence and stealth. He’d never revealed his hand to his opponent, never overstepped the lines or the law.
All that was out the window.
Beanie would be pissed he’d survived. But he might be stupid enough to believe I’d make a deal with him. All he needed was to find out where he was. He
scrolled through Moretti’s contacts and found Beanie’s name. His thumb shook as it tapped the screen.
Ring, ring, ring
Rhett gripped the phone until his fingertips ached. Jesus, if Beanie didn’t answer he’d go crazy.
“Hello?”
The ache in Rhett’s chest receded. “I believe I have something you want,” he said, skipping the pleasantries.
Silence ticked in his ear. The seconds stretched like minutes.
“Callahan.” Disappointment slithered over the asshole’s tone. Clearly he hadn’t expected him to survive. “I believe I have something you want.”
Rhett curled his hand into a fist at his side and turned toward the trees, away from where Mandy and Eric waited by the vehicle. Beanie wanted to bait him, and part of him, the emotionally attached guy and not the FBI agent, nearly succumbed. He summoned his strongest interrogator voice. “Where do we go from here, Beanie? If you harm a hair on Peyton’s head, you’ll go to jail for a long time.”
“That’s if you find me.”
Rhett stiffened. There was no telling what lengths Beanie had gone to in order to conceal his identity. With a senator as his employer, it would be far too easy for him to get a fake passport.
“Let’s keep this simple. I’ll give you the envelope and you give Peyton back in return.”
Silence ticked on.
And then, “It’d be a hell of a lot more fun torturing it out of your bitch.”
Beanie’s words punched through Rhett’s chest, and he dropped to his knees. The pavement slammed into his kneecaps. No. Beanie had tried to rape her once, and if he succeeded this time, Rhett would never forgive himself.
He had to find her.
Desperation sucked the air from him. He’d failed her. Peyton needed him and he’d fucking dropped the ball. He’d left her side in an attempt to protect her and hadn’t been alert enough to sense Beanie’s approach at the marina. Finally, he’d found someone he cared about more than his career. And now, because she’d fallen smack-dab into the middle of his investigation, she’d be tortured and murdered. His sinuses tingled with unshed tears. Begging would only egg Beanie on.
There had to be a way . . .
“Since I’m a nice guy, I’ll let you say goodbye to her.”
He heard a scuffle and a small yelp. His breath expelled from his throat.
“Say hello to your boyfriend.”
“Rhett! You’re alive!” Peyton’s sob screeched in his ears. From behind his solar plexus, relief spread like a cosmic explosion.
“Are you okay, baby? Did they hurt you?”
“No.” Her voice trembled, and he smashed his knuckles into the driveway knowing it was a bald-faced lie. She’d likely already endured pain and torment from Beanie, yet she was concerned only about him.
“You need to think, honey,” he whispered hoarsely. “Give me some kind of clue about where I can find you.” This couldn’t be the last time he heard her intoxicating voice. Couldn’t be his last chance to express the emotions that had taken hold of him since the moment he laid eyes on her.
“Time’s up!”
“Wait,” she hissed. “If something happens to me, Rhett, please tell my sister Erica that I’ll always remember our days at the beach—”
Beanie’s snort sounded in his ear. “You know what’s going to happen to you, baby.”
Beanie’s salacious promise drove Rhett to his feet. “Don’t fucking touch her!”
“I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
The line went dead.
CHAPTER 21
Beanie yanked the phone away from Peyton. “Too bad he’s not a smarter fed. Now, where were we?” He scooted a chair forward and sat. His knees touched hers. She shifted them but couldn’t move far enough. She crunched her teeth together. She couldn’t do anything stupid.
“You were about to let Max go so I’d tell you Jenny’s location.” The statement came out strong, unwavering, belying the piercing fingernails of dread in her soul.
Beanie leaned forward. The gash on his forehead creased, and blood rushed to the open surface. He swiped it away. “You admit you saw the address?”
She moved her tongue in an attempt to draw moisture to her mouth. “I saw it, yes. I remember the location but not the full address.”
His gaze moved over her face, as if weighing the truth in her words. He rubbed his thumb against the pads of his fingers. The faint brushing sound was the only noise in the room. Then he reached forward and dragged his fingertip over her exposed thigh. She jerked her knee away. Her skin crawled. His lips stretched over his teeth. Bringing his hand to her fingers, he stroked her knuckles.
“I’m not letting anyone go,” he said calmly. “Here are your choices: a quick, painless death, or one filled with torture and . . .” His eyes dropped to her breasts and then her lap, where they lingered. “Fun. For me, anyway.”
Hope fought with the desperation trying to bury her. Rhett was alive. If anyone could find her, it was him.
If he caught my hint.
“And what happens to Jenny?”
He shrugged. “You know the answer.”
She tried to force her fragmented thoughts into one logical one. If she was going to die anyway, she wouldn’t take someone else with her. Cold sweat touched her top lip, and she dragged her teeth over the flesh to stop the tickle. She met the lifeless depths of his irises. “Then you know my answer.”
His jaw flexed and he stood, pushing back the chair. He shoved it to a corner and removed a gun from his pants. “Fine.”
Her body hardened to slate as he aimed the weapon at her forehead. She turned her face away. Tremors possessed her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating the rip of a bullet through her flesh.
“Look at me!” Beanie’s scream made the cement under her feet vibrate.
She jerked her head in his direction and opened her eyes. Beanie smiled, aimed the gun at Max’s chest, and fired.
Crack! Crack!
Max’s body spasmed. Petals of blood blossomed on his chest and spread from the two holes. Her friend’s eyes shifted to her and glazed. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she gasped for air.
Max’s chest heaved. Then Beanie brought the gun to Max’s temple.
Crack!
Blood and flesh flung from the opposite side of Max’s head, coating the wall in purple and red matter.
“Ah, fuck!” Len screamed and leaped backward, but the splatter showered his face and colored his shirt.
Vomit projected from Peyton’s stomach. She leaned forward and expelled searing-hot fluid onto the floor at Beanie’s feet. Tears mixed with sweat on her face as she spit the last of the puke from her mouth. A low buzz sounded in her ears and her vision blurred and then focused, blurred and then focused.
“Congratulations,” Beanie sang. His voice penetrated the pitter-patter of her pulse and the mesh coating her brain. “You’ve just committed your first murder.”
He stepped over the puddle she’d created and stalked across the room. His beige loafers filled her vision. A rustle of material assured her he’d pocketed the weapon.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He patted her hand. Her gag reflex jumped at his touch. Then his hand slid over her knuckles. In one swift movement, he jerked up her wrist, grabbed her right pinky, and twisted.
A scream erupted from her chest as her bone snapped in two. Pain shot through her arm and black spots dotted her vision. Her head fell backward and a gray curtain dropped, clicking off her mind.
* * *
Rhett passed Moretti’s phone to Mandy and drove his hand through his hair. The setting sun warmed the skin on the back of his neck but did nothing to thaw the ice in his veins. He’d failed. Not just Peyton, but himself. And Peyton’s friends. God, Dani would take this hard. All because he’d fucked up. He pressed his palm to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Blood oscillated at his temples.
His mind buzzed with information and tore apart every piece of the case: Max’s disap
pearance, Vicky’s death . . . There had to be something he wasn’t seeing, something he’d overlooked. Christ, if he were less attached to the investigation on a personal level, he’d be able to think like a federal agent. Instead, he was too caught up in the images that invaded his focus. The strawberry tint of Peyton’s blonde hair, which gleamed in the sunlight and made him wonder if she’d been more of a redhead as a kid. The laughing, know-it-all smirk she’d flashed at him a dozen times since he rescued her on Moretti’s yacht. Her body spread out in his bed, her long locks fluffy from their lovemaking and pink marks on her neck and breasts from his kisses.
A vise squeezed his heart.
Mandy caught his arm. “What’d he say?”
He shook his head. “He said he’s going to—” His voice broke and he shook his head. “We have to find her. Get me a location on Beanie’s number. Odds are his phone’s encrypted, but we need to start somewhere.”
“Sure. Did he say anything else? Did you speak to Peyton?” Worry creased Mandy’s forehead, and he kicked himself in the ass for believing for even a second that she could have been in on this.
He swallowed down the marbles that had collected inside his throat. “Yeah.” He turned away and recalled Peyton’s words. He’d asked her for a clue and instead, she’d given him something about her sister. His mind churned until one thought came forward, hard and strong.
He seized Mandy’s shoulder. “She doesn’t have a fucking sister!”
Mandy cocked her head, but he ignored her questioning look and pulled out his phone. Only one person could clear this up. He dialed Brock’s number.
“Hey, bro. How’s the sunshine state?”
“I need to speak to Dani.” The words rushed out as if a dam had broken inside him.
“She’s inside. What’s up?”
“Get her. It’s important.”
“All right,” Brock said, unease lacing his voice. “One minute.” He heard a door opening. “It’s Rhett. He says it’s important.”
“Hi, Rhett. How’s it going?” Her cheery voice held a tinge of hesitancy.
Straight Shooter Page 17
