Page 10 of Straight Shooter

The line went dead.

Chapter

Five

Rhett curled his hand around the phone and pressed his fist to his forehead. Motherfucking sonofabitch. He’d been stupid to think Moretti wouldn’t kill the woman for trying to steal from him. Moretti hated to be threatened, and letting the woman go would show weakness. Shit had just gotten bleak. There was no way out of this. He couldn’t stand around and let a civilian be killed. He’d have to call in his team. They’d surround the yacht with helicopters and boats before he could blink.

They’d have Moretti on charges of intent to kill, but it wasn’t enough. Sure, it would help the FBI’s case, but that didn’t mean he’d been involved in the murder of Raquel, and it wouldn’t help take down the corrupt cops and judges he planned to pay off. He’d get a slap on the wrist instead of being incarcerated.

“What’s wrong?”

He flicked his gaze to the person who’d started this whole mess. Her voice was small. For the first time since he’d brought her to his room, her voice held a note of fear.

“Moretti wants you dead, that’s what’s wrong.” He tossed the phone on the bed and got to his feet. She widened her stance, as if preparing to fight him off, and he grunted. He didn’t even have the energy to be amused. He paced the room and warred with his thoughts. He knew what he had to do—he just didn’t want to. Didn’t want to end the case. But there was absolutely no other way out of this.

She—how the hell had he not gotten her name yet?—cleared her throat. He snapped his attention to her stark white face.

“You could let me go.” She shrugged. “I’ll take the lifeboat and you can tell them I escaped while you were sleeping.”

He scoffed and dug his hands into his now-wrinkled slacks. Actually, it wasn’t a bad idea. At the very least, it’d save her life without him having to call in his team.

But he knew her kind. She’d be back for whatever it was she wanted. He strode to the chair and propped his knee on the seat. He took in the delicate fingers curled around the back of the chair then dragged his gaze up to her shoulders.

“If I do that, I need something from you in exchange.”

Her chin lifted and her honey-hued eyes blazed with fire. “Go to hell, you perv.” She grabbed the lamp on the nightstand, but it was bolted to the surface. She huffed and spun on him. “How dare you suggest⁠—”

“Suggest what?”

She propped her hands on her hips. “Proposition me for sex to save my life.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“You’re a crooked cop. I don’t think that’d be beneath you.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Annoyance thickened in his overtired brain, but he held back any response that would blow his cover. “What’s your name?”

Confusion puckered the skin between her eyes. “You’ll let me go if I tell you?”

She wasn’t getting off that easy, but once he got his focus off who she was, he’d be able to think of a logical way out of this. He lifted a shoulder. “It’s a start.”

She twisted her mouth to one side then the other. Then, probably discerning there wasn’t much threat in revealing her name, since he already knew her friends, she shrugged. “Fine. It’s Peyton. Peyton Risk.”

He lifted an eyebrow. Peyton. Crap. He’d heard plenty about Peyton Risk. She wasn’t exactly a wanted felon, but her name had come up more than once in association with other criminals. Max-something stuck in his brain.

“You’ve heard of me?” Her dry tone brought up the edges of his mouth.

“You could say that. You’ve got a pretty risqué résumé, if memory serves me right.”

Her head tilted. “Cute. I’ve heard worse.”

“Hmm. Like Priss? Isn’t that what friends call you?” He liked the name Priss. It suited her. “Peyton” made him think of someone uptight and refined, not like the short, feisty beauty who tested his every nerve.

“You’re awfully clever for a cop. What else do you want from me in exchange for my life, oh master?” Her tone had become downright snarly.

Once again, he opted not to take the bait. He rocked his knee from side to side and her gaze dropped to his leg then traveled up the inside of his thigh and stopped on his crotch. Her throat bobbed on a swallow and desire stirred his blood.

A delicate blush touched her cheeks, and he didn’t even try to stop the hardening of his cock. He cleared his throat. Her already lightly pink cheeks turned a flaming red, the color intensified by the fair hair framing her face.