Page 49 of Straight Shooter

“Rhett!”

He whirled around to see Peyton locked under a man’s arm. Panic beat a hole through his breastbone, and the air drained out of him. A gun was nestled against her temple.

Peyton wrestled against her attacker. She’d recognize his smoke-tainted breath and heavy body anywhere—Beanie. Rhett broke into a run. She shook her head wildly to warn him off, but it was too late.

One of Beanie’s henchmen stepped into his path, and Peyton caught sight of the long end of a silencer. No! Rhett had just put his gun away. There was no chance he’d get to it in time to fire before the oaf did. Rhett raised his hands and said something she couldn’t hear. Beanie dragged her backward, but she fought against him.

“Hold still, you little bitch.”

She dipped her head and chomped her teeth into his wrist. Blood hit her tongue and Beanie yelped. The other man swiveled around, and Rhett pounced on him.

Whack!

White dots exploded in front of her blurring vision. She felt herself being lifted off the ground. Rhett’s scream penetrated her fading thoughts, and she shook off the greedy fingers that wanted her to pass out just in time to see a bullet hit Rhett in the chest.

Blood blossomed on his pale-blue shirt. Fear claimed her voice and tears filled her eyes. The man kicked Rhett in the stomach and then the knee until he fell off the edge of the marina.

Her back hit the hot, rough material of the inside of a trunk. Beanie’s salacious smile was the last thing she saw before the lid closed.

She kicked and banged the metal around her, but her efforts made her arms burn, and the air turned stifling in seconds. The car lurched forward, and she was thrown to the back of the trunk. The weightlessness of her core made nausea build behind her throat.

Tears hotter than the dark space she was in rolled down her cheeks. Please, God. Don’t let him be dead. If he died because of her she’d never forgive herself.

She curled her knees to her stomach, pressed her back against the side of the trunk, and tried to stop the terror rushing through her. Rhett was strong. He wouldn’t go down easily. Doubt wormed around her heart. He’d been shot in the chest and thrown into the ocean.

And even if he made it out alive, he wouldn’t get to her in time.

She focused on slowing her breath. If she hyperventilated, she’d run out of air in seconds. She had to preserve the moist, thick oxygen as best she could. Surely they didn’t intend for her to die in the trunk.

Dammit to hell and back, she’d left her purse in Rhett’s car. If only she’d kept her phone on her—then at least she could send someone to help Rhett. The car hit a bump and she yelped and swept her hand around the bottom of the trunk trying to find something to hang on to. Her fingertips met a small lip at the edge of the carpet, where the floor met the wall.

There had to be something she could use stored beneath the floor. She lifted the thick carpet and the middle bent, opening a small compartment. She dug her hand inside and squinted into the inky darkness. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face, so trying to see what was beneath the floor was futile. She closed her eyes so she could focus on identifying the objects. A tire, cables, a long, skinny piece of metal . . .

She closed her hand around it and wrestled it out of the compartment. A tire iron. She gripped it to her chest. The car slowed, turned, and came to an abrupt stop. A peal of laughter echoed from the inside of the car, shaking her bones. She closed her eyes and summoned all her strength.

She only had one way out of this, and she had to make it count. If Beanie didn’t go down after she hit him, he’d kill her for sure. The other man would come at her too, so she’d have to be ready. They still wanted information from her. Hopefully that meant he’d hesitate to shoot. She shifted the iron so it lay in the crook between the floor and the wall and curled her hand around it. She’d just have to make sure Beanie didn’t survive the blow.

The trunk lid flung open, and sunlight hit her sensitive retinas. She blinked to clear her vision as Beanie’s hand clutched her bicep. She steeled the iron in her grip.

“Get the fuck up.”

She let him drag her halfway out of the trunk. Then, gripping the edge of the car with the hand of the arm he held and her leg poised on the tailgate, she swung with all her might and struck Beanie in the forehead. A sharp clank rang through the air. His head jerked to the side, his eyes unfocused. Blood poured out of the split flesh. She swung again, this time aiming at the back of his head, but the iron froze over her shoulder.

She wheeled around and faced the man restricting her swing. The mouth of the silencer that had shot Rhett stared back at her. He wrenched the tire iron from her grip.

“Bitch!” The younger man grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her from the trunk. She toppled to the ground and her knees hit the pavement. She cried out but shoved her hand into the stones that dotted the asphalt, ready to run.

“Move one more time and I’ll shoot your leg!” The threat stopped her in her tracks. If he shot her now, there’d be no chance of escape later. She gulped air. Streams of sweat tickled her temples. The younger man dropped down at Beanie’s side. “Boss, can you hear me?”

Beanie groaned deeply.

Peyton’s stomach hurtled to her toes. A fierce tremble shook her.

“I’m fucking bleeding!” A river of crimson coated his forehead and dripped into his eyebrows.

“The whore hit you with a tire iron.”

“I know what happened, you moron!” Beanie struggled into a sitting position. His chest heaved and his eyes, their whites tinged red from a sheen of blood, locked on her. He lifted his lip and a smile followed.