Chapter 13 #2
She settled her hand on his sternum, and her palm rose and fell with his breaths. “Let’s concentrate on what we know: whoever hired Max must know someone very close to Moretti’s inner circle. They’re working against him, so that means they’re trying to stop Moretti from harming Jenny, right?”
Rhett winced and rocked his head from side to side.
“Yes and no. It could be someone else is after Jenny—someone who has something just as big to lose, or who doesn’t want their name attached to the scandal.
” He dropped his arm from around her back and grabbed the car keys from the counter.
“I know you don’t want to do this, but we really need to talk to Max. ”
Peyton cringed and knotted her hands in front of her abdomen. God, this would be difficult. Max hated cops and likely wouldn’t give Rhett a chance. And he’d be even more pissed when he found out she couldn’t give him the envelope because Rhett had it in his possession.
“What is it?”
She dropped her hands and fought the urge to gravitate to his body. “Nothing, it’s just . . . he’s not going to be happy when I show up with you, that’s all.”
Rhett’s biceps jumped against the thin material of his shirt. “Is he dangerous?” The question came out on a low drawl, and his focus on her face didn’t waver.
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I just don’t want to freak him out, you know?”
“Maybe I should talk to him alone,” Rhett said.
“Uh-uh.” Peyton crossed her arms and planted her feet on the tile. “I’m going to be there or the deal’s off.”
Rhett blew out an exasperated breath and rolled onto his heels and then back. “I guess you don’t give me much choice. But if he goes off his rocker, I want you to leave immediately.”
She raised both of her hands in surrender. “Fine.”
He pressed his lips together and skimmed his gaze over her body. Then he reached out and caught her chin in his hand. His touch was gentle but firm. “I mean it, okay? These things can go south fast, so when I say leave, you need to listen.”
She resisted puckering her lips in annoyance.
Clearly he needed some assurance that she wasn’t some misbehaving three-year-old.
She lifted her finger to her chest and marked an X over her heart.
His gaze followed the movement and lingered on her chest then dipped to her legs and back up.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Arousal stirred beneath her skin.
If she didn’t make a move now, she wouldn’t be able to resist if he took her lips in his. She circled her hand around his wrist. “Rhett,” she said on a breath.
He lifted his thick black lashes, and the intensity of his steely eyes slammed into her. She wet her lips with her tongue, and his grip on her chin tightened—wrong move.
“I can’t stop touching you, dammit. You drive me crazy, Priss.”
His words lifted her toes from the ground. Hope wanted to grab his words and hug them to her chest, but hanging onto something like that wouldn’t do her any good.
“I know we shouldn’t get involved,” he continued. He dragged his thumb over her bottom lip, and her teeth ached to nip his flesh. “But I can’t get you out of my head.”
Her insides softened like melting butter, and she smoothed her thumb over the indent of his wrist. God, she wanted to taste him again, to have his mouth on her body and to lose herself in the affection of a man.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She dipped her chin. He tilted his head to read her face.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t get involved.”
His hold loosened and his hand fell away from her face. He adjusted his shirt and bobbed his head in agreement. “We should get to Max’s.”
She followed him out of the house and to the car.
After she gave him Max’s address, they rode in silence.
The energy between them had shifted. Gone was the zap of chemistry, the lick of excitement in her abdomen.
She’d had her opportunity to seize the connection she so desperately craved, but for once, she’d taken the responsible route.
She’d let the thought of the consequences of sleeping with an FBI agent override her head, heart, and desires.
Instead of relief, a ball of disappointment expanded in her belly.
As Rhett turned onto the street Max’s apartment building was on, traffic came to a halt. “What the hell’s going on?” He sat forward and peered through the windshield.
Peyton frowned. Several police cars crowded the street in front of the high-rise apartment.
Ambulance sirens screeched nearby, and a large white van inched onto the street, its horn blaring to get stray vehicles out of the way.
A cop stood in the middle of the chaos waving traffic around the patrol cars.
People clogged the sidewalks like confused cows in a herd.
Several people held their phones over their heads trying to take pictures.
Nausea built at the back of her throat, and she gripped the buckle of her seatbelt. “I need to see what’s going on. It could have something to do with Max.” She unclipped the belt, but Rhett’s hand clamped down on her arm.
“Stay inside. You’re going to get hit by a car.” He steered the vehicle to the side of the road, shifted into park, and got out. She opened her door and stepped onto the sidewalk. Not waiting for him to meet her pace, she shoved through the excited bodies to get to the front of the building.
“Excuse me! Move, please. I live here,” she called, elbowing her way through.
Rhett’s presence burned her back, and the rough skin of his palm slid on the inside of her bicep.
“Slow down,” he pleaded. He pulled her to his side and held his badge in his palm. “Everyone, back up! FBI!”
A few gasps sounded around him, and a path cleared, revealing a body lying ten feet away facedown on the cement.
Nearby, an officer exited his patrol car. “Police! Everyone back up!”
She had to get closer before they closed down the scene. Moving away from Rhett’s side, she skirted her way around the crowd to the front entrance and toward the body. Paramedics dragged out a stretcher and another cop approached with a white sheet folded under his arm.
Rhett caught her hand. “What are you doing?”
“We have to see if it’s Max.”
Rhett’s lips firmed, but he followed her a few steps closer to the scene. A cop who was focused on pushing the crowd back looked over his shoulder, and his features pinched into a scowl. “I said, get back!”
“Peyton, we have to go,” Rhett hissed behind her.
She didn’t move. Denim shorts and a white tank top covered the woman’s slim body.
Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and blood pooled on the sidewalk beneath her.
Her long, dark, curly hair spread over her shoulders and billowed onto the concrete.
Her arm sprawled away from her body, and fluorescent pink coated her inch-long nails.
Vicky.