Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
The tension that had been riding in his muscles ever since he’d been assigned to Moretti’s crew had been fucked away, lost in Peyton’s heavenly scent, luscious body, and full mouth.
It’d been a long time since he’d been kissed that way—fully.
Damn, what did that even mean? The saucy strawberry-blonde stirred his blood like no other woman ever had.
Her body made him want to go on a seven-day exploration adventure.
Her goldish-brown eyes disintegrated every ounce of resistance in his body, and the sex with her had filled a need he didn’t know existed. He was ruined.
He moved away from the table and made his way to the bedroom.
He paused at the door and then swung it open an inch.
Peyton lay curled on her side, her knee drawn up over a pile of blankets.
She’d left him with only a corner of the mattress to sleep on.
Her ass arched onto his side of the bed.
The early morning sun lit the room in a blaze of yellow, but she didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the glare.
He always woke before the sun and never understood how people could sleep so peacefully after the day had started.
He stepped into the room and moved toward the bed.
A patch of pale pink coated the crook of her neck as a result of his scruff.
Given the angle of her chin, he couldn’t see the damage Sid had done, but her throat had been an angry purple the previous night.
The memory of her hanging over the railing, of almost not reaching her in time, yanked a cord deep in his heart.
He’d protect her from now on.
And right now, he didn’t want to analyze what the hell that meant. He rested his palm on her bare thigh and rocked her leg. “Priss. Time to wake up.”
Her face puckered into a cute pout, and she grunted something that sounded like “go away.”
“C’mon. We’ve got work to do.” He tickled her thigh, and her lips melted into a grin.
She cracked open an eyelid. “For your information, the reason I’m so tired is because of you.”
He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Me? How?”
She tapped her pinky to her lip. “Let’s see . . . it must have been the second, or maybe the third time you woke me up during the night.”
Images of entering her sexy little body from behind seared his brain and brought his semi-satisfied cock to life. “Ah, well you can’t blame me for that. Besides, I don’t remember any complaints.”
She chuckled and stopped his hand from weaving under the covers and between her thighs.
He studied her. “Are you sore? Did I hurt you?”
She waved the question away. “Of course not. But I am a little sore.”
Guilt swam inside him. He’d been too intoxicated by her to resist. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her knee. “I’m sorry.”
She turned onto her back and the blanket fell to her waist, exposing her beautiful, pink-tipped breasts. “Don’t be. I enjoyed every minute.”
“Mmm.” He pressed kisses down the inside of her leg. A flush tinted her cheeks and her eyes blazed.
She pressed her palm against his forehead. “Rhett, I need a couple of hours, please.” Her laugh was hoarse.
He nudged away her hand and moved the blanket.
His gaze fell to the freshly bandaged gash on her leg.
He removed the gauze carefully and inspected the cut.
The outside of the wound had started healing, and the gash no longer looked moist. Thankfully there was no sign of infection. He pressed a kiss next to it.
“It’s fine,” she said. “Healing nicely.”
“Good.” He dipped his mouth to the smooth flesh between her legs.
Her knees fell open on command and her head tilted back.
She ran her fingers through his hair then gripped the strands.
The pressure on his scalp urged him on. He licked over her folds and a sharp moan hiccupped from her lips.
Positioning his hands around her thighs, he locked his mouth on her sex and sucked lightly.
“Ohmigod,” she sang.
He forced down a chuckle and worked his tongue over her sweet, swollen lips.
Her back arched and her fingers clamped onto the sheets next to her.
He held her steady and flicked his tongue over her clitoris.
She cried out as her pussy spasmed. The rush of her orgasm touched his tongue, and he licked and sucked until her cries turned into a laughing plea.
He pressed one last kiss to her quivering belly then crawled up the length of her. Her eyelashes lay against her cheeks and her lips parted. Then he kissed her mouth because resisting would kill him. She placed her hand on his cheek and opened her eyes.
“Ah, my god.” Her eyelids fluttered blissfully.
He laughed. “You can call me that if you want.”
She swatted his chest. “Don’t get too full of yourself.”
“Never. But I hope that speeds up the healing time because I won’t be able to hold off much longer.” He nipped her shoulder, caught her hands, and pulled her into a sitting position. “C’mon, sleepy head. Coffee’s on and I’ve got access to Vicky’s phone.”
She leaped from the bed. “Why didn’t you say that?” She fit her arms through the T-shirt he’d worn the previous night and pulled on her leggings. “Jeffrey got back to you?”
“Yup. I bypassed Vicky’s security.” He led the way to the kitchen and nodded at the phone on the counter.
She sat down on a stool and picked up the device while he poured her coffee.
He put out the cream and sugar and she topped her dark brew.
She accepted it without tearing her attention from the screen.
Rounding the island, he huddled next to her shoulder. “See anything?”
She tapped her finger on the search bar and typed in Jenny’s name. “When did Jenny go into witness protection?”
He racked his brain. “About four months ago, I think. She wouldn’t have been able to contact anyone once they moved her to safety.”
“This Jenny must be Jenny Carter then. It’s dated March 27.” She bounced a little in her seat and her shoulder jostled his. “I think they’re talking about the stripper who died.”
He leaned closer to view the screen.
Vicky: Are you okay? What happened last night? I heard one of the girls called the cops and Andre was arrested.
Jenny: I need to talk to you. It’s about that night.
Vicky: Do you want to meet? I can leave in ten minutes.
Jenny: No. It’s too dangerous. I was so fucked up that night. Andre kept getting Raquel and me to do blow, so everything’s hazy.
Vicky: It’s so terrible what happened to Raquel. That bastard deserves to go to jail. You’re doing the right thing, don’t worry.
Jenny: I’m confused though. There was someone else there that night—his face keeps replacing Andre’s, but I can’t remember who it is.
Vicky: Let the police do their job. You’ve done yours.
Rhett grabbed the phone. “Jesus. Someone else was there when Raquel was murdered.” He tunneled his hand through his hair and caught the back of his neck. He paced the short distance from the kitchen to the living room.
“It could mean Andre didn’t kill her.” Peyton’s words broke through the bubble in his brain, speaking his exact train of thought.
He rubbed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The envelope burned a hole through his back pocket, scalding his skin. “If Andre didn’t kill her, then there’s someone else after you and the address— someone who has a lot to fucking lose.”
Peyton quickly dressed while Rhett talked to his team.
His voice carried from the living room to the bedroom.
Waking up to him had been almost as sweet as having the solid length of his body cocooned around hers all night.
But it wasn’t something she could get used to.
She walked out of the room just as he disconnected.
“What do Mandy and Eric think?”
Rhett lifted his shoulder, and a flash of distaste crossed his face.
“They’re going over Jenny’s statement again to look for anything that coincides with another man being present.
” He exhaled exaggeratedly. “I did some digging this morning while you were sleeping. Turns out Moretti’s wife has been stashing away money in offshore accounts.
Either she knows he’s involved in something he shouldn’t be, or she’s preparing a getaway. ”
“Do they have kids?”
“Nope. Although Andre is like a son to them.”
“Hmm.” She rolled that information over in her head. “I wonder what’s at stake for Mrs. Moretti if her nephew gets convicted.”
He shrugged. “Could be anything. Hell, it’s probably worked in Moretti’s favor to have his nephew as a congressman.
So who knows what Mrs. Moretti could be involved in.
Aside from that, the murder happened at their vacation home, and that carries a lot of scandal.
If it had happened at a hotel, there’d be less of a tie to the Morettis. ”
“But Moretti has an alibi, doesn’t he? I remember reading that somewhere.”
“Yeah, he and his wife were away and Andre had use of their premises.”
She stomped her foot into the carpet, sending the recliner into a back-and-forth motion that matched that of the battle inside her head. She let out a huff of frustration. “I don’t get it.”
“What?”
“Moretti wants Jenny Carter dead to clear Andre’s name—we know that for certain. But who else could be involved? Why’d they hire Max and me to work against Moretti?”
Rhett waltzed closer, and she took in his full height and the bulging veins under the skin of his arms. “Has to be the guy who was in the room with Andre.”
“That’s another thing. Raquel and Jenny were hookers. Jenny was confused about someone else being there that night, but shouldn’t she have known beforehand there’d be two guys? Isn’t that something they’d negotiate payment for?”
Rhett laughed gruffly. “Yeah, you’d think. But Andre’s a catch. He’s affluential, cocky, and a high-profile client. If they were fucked up on cocaine like Jenny said, plans could have changed at the drop of a hat. Hell, maybe the second man joined unannounced.”