Chapter 12 #2
Rhett straightened. He’d asked Eric that morning to dig into the criminal’s background on a whim after he’d learned Peyton’s name on the yacht and remembered her being associated with the known thief.
After spending most of the night tossing and turning and thinking about Peyton, he’d asked Milo for Max’s last name.
Milo had been reluctant to give it to him, but when Rhett stressed it held an important key to his case, his old friend had caved.
“Where?”
As Eric rattled off the address, awareness pushed away the lusty fog that had coated Rhett’s brain.
Max lived only a few blocks from Peyton’s hotel. There was no way in hell that was a coincidence.
He lifted his gaze to the glass door. Until he could get through to her that he wasn’t her enemy, he couldn’t do anything stupid.
Too bad she had him by the balls.
Peyton took one shallow breath after another, but her deprived lungs wouldn’t let her catch her breath.
Kissing Rhett had been nothing more than desperate times calling for desperate measures.
Except the scalding heat of his tongue gliding over hers had captured her breath—and her sanity.
He’d picked her up and plopped her on the counter, ready to do god knows what, and she hadn’t minded one bit.
As a matter of fact, when he’d moved his mouth down her throat and his hands had been positioned to rip off her dress, she’d been ready.
Which would have been incredibly stupid of her, since Jenny Carter’s address still sat nestled in the cup of her bra.
Her stomach clenched, and she dropped into one of the two stools at the island, threading her hand in her hair.
The quick movements—and rush of endorphins—made the cut on her leg pulse.
What was wrong with her? Men had lusted after her before.
That was nothing new. But Rhett was different.
No man had ever lit such a fire in her gut.
No man had ever looked at her like he wanted to possess her, own her, make her scream.
And yet, he made her feel dangerous at the same time.
The glass door slammed shut, and she snapped her head in his direction and curled her hand around her phone.
Thank god one good thing had come from the kiss—he hadn’t learned about Max.
While Rhett had been outside, she’d deleted her conversation with her colleague in case he wound up getting her phone again.
The bastard.
“Sorry, just work.”
“Mmm. No problem,” she said, her tone terse.
Amusement blazed from his steel-gray eyes, and the precarious nerves in her belly jumped. God, he was good-looking. Tall, strong, built in all the right places—and well endowed, if the thick erection that had pressed against her belly only five minutes prior was any indication.
He folded his arms on top of the counter directly across from her. “That was smooth, by the way.”
She cocked her head. “What?”
“Kissing me like that.”
Heat scorched her ears and tension circled her throat. She tried to clamp her lips shut but failed. “You didn’t complain.” She shouldn’t egg him on. Given the lack of self-control she exhibited around Rhett, she didn’t need to encourage him.
His mouth split into a wide smile. “I never said I was crazy.”
She worked her tongue over the inside of her cheek. As interesting as this exchange was, she needed to lose him and get the flipping envelope into Max’s hands before Moretti got to them both.
“Look,” she began, as she traced her finger along the edge of the counter. “I need to get back to San Diego. I’m sorry there isn’t anything I can help you with—”
“Oh, but there is.” The words came out smooth and challenging, setting off warning bells in her head. “You could answer some questions for me and then I’ll escort you to your hotel and the airport.”
Annoyance danced in her head. Having Rhett as her chaperone would make it near impossible for her to meet Max. “Go ahead,” she said with a nod.
“Where were you headed earlier?”
She scoffed. “When I ran from Beanie? I didn’t really have a destination in mind, more like just trying to stay alive.”
He narrowed his stare. “You said you spotted him on your floor.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’d already left your room. Where were you headed?”
She puckered her lips to stall, but no lie came to mind. Dammit.
“Visiting a friend, maybe?” The cockiness in his voice grated on her nerves.
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I’m not a genius or anything—”
“Duly noted,” she said, not hiding her smirk.
“But that tells me you’re still working this job on Moretti.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “I already told you, I’m done. I’m ready to go home.” Almost. If he’d get the hell off her back so she could complete the last, most important piece of the task.
“C’mon, Priss. I can’t help you if you won’t help me.
I could let you walk out that door right now,” he said, gesturing at the bright-yellow wood.
“But odds are Beanie will find you the minute you hit the streets. Because let’s be honest—Moretti’s resources are almost as good as mine, and I already know you planned to meet Max Burton. ”
She fought to keep her face impassive.
Shit.
She couldn’t lie and she couldn’t weasel her way out of the question.
Doing so wouldn’t help. Not when he already knew so much.
She bounced her shoulders. “Am I supposed to be impressed? I mean, I guess that’s pretty good you figured it out, but you’re right, definitely not genius material.
” The jab didn’t wipe away his self-satisfied smirk.
“All I need from you, Priss, is to tell me who hired Max. Someone is pulling his strings—who is it?”
“I don’t know. He never told me that. The fewer details we share about a job, the better. For this reason exactly,” she said, gesturing in the air between them.
He tugged on his earlobe and nodded. “Fine. That’s probably true. But there’s one thing you can’t cover up.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“What were you hired to take?”
She let her shoulders fall an inch. God, this was getting tiring.
“Peyton, I can give you immunity. You just need to trust me.”
She pierced the tip of her tongue with her teeth. “Max would kill me.”
“He won’t know.”
She pushed herself off the stool. “It’s time for me to leave. Thanks for hanging around my hotel when you did, but—”
He caught her arm. “You can’t leave. Moretti’s men are pounding the streets looking for you. What do you think they’ll do when they find you? No job is that important, Peyton.” His brow locked in a formidable scowl and a shadow crossed his face.
She didn’t pull her arm out of his reach, mostly because the contact grounded her.
A memory of Beanie’s scummy hands on her body ripped through her mind.
She forced it away and focused on her breath to forget the image.
But on its heels came the thought of impending solitude.
God, she was sick of being alone. Even when she worked with a partner like Max, she was still alone—because they worked independently.
Even when she was with Dani, she was still alone—because Dani had found something better.