Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
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.