Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Rhett drew one breath in through his nose, then again. He didn’t take his gaze off Mandy. She propped the weapon on her lap, no longer holding him at gunpoint.
“You’ve been shot, and based on what you’ve said I can see why you would suspect there’s someone working from the inside. It’s not us, okay? We’ve been a team for two years. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
He sucked the moisture out of his tongue, wanting to believe her.
“We can’t turn on each other. Let’s put our heads together with the information we have and find Peyton before it’s too late.”
“You held a gun to my head,” he said calmly.
“You still think we’re fucking in on this?” Eric’s high-pitched whine grated on Rhett’s last nerve.
He swung his attention to the idiot with the rag clutched to his gushing nose and the sliver of doubt that had taken shape ten minutes ago split open wider.
Mandy dropped her head to the side and rolled her eyes damn near to the back of her head. “You were about to put a bullet in Eric’s face. What was I supposed to do?”
He glanced from Mandy to Eric and dropped his elbows on the desk.
Sonofabitch, he’d been wrong. By making an impulsive accusation he’d set off his team, and their reactions had only fueled his suspicion.
Mandy was armed and if she were working for Moretti she could have shot him and wiped her hands clean of this whole situation—not try to mend the trust he’d thought was broken and continue to crack the case. “Shit,” he breathed.
Mandy patted his hand lightly, bringing him out of his self-loathing. “It’s all right, dude. We all make mistakes. You’re forgiven.”
“Speak for yourself,” Eric moaned.
Rhett didn’t spare him a glance but nodded at Mandy. “Thanks.”
“Now, like I said. Listen to what I have to say.” She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a folder. “Moretti’s due for a Senate meeting in Washington next week. According to the itinerary provided by his secretary, he’s staying in the Keys until then.”
Impatience rattled his bones. He bounced his knee up and down and fought the urge to drag his hands over his face. If he didn’t start moving soon, he’d combust. “Can you cut to the chase, please?”
She compressed her lips. “I did some digging and it turns out Moretti owns two properties in the Keys: the house Raquel was killed at and a small beach house they keep as a vacation-rental property. Eric”—she nodded in his direction—“was able to hack into the site that they book their rentals through to view their calendar. This week is open and the rest of the season is booked solid.”
“That’s where they are.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Has to be.”
He shoved himself to his feet and the chair toppled backward. Mandy followed and Eric moseyed behind them.
At the door, he held out his hand. “I’m going to need my Glock.”
Mandy pursed her lips, reached behind her, and slapped it in his palm. “Behave.”
Rhett turned to Eric and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry about your nose. I was wrong to jump to conclusions.”
Eric pulled the rag away and dabbed at the last drop of fluid lingering at his nostril. He nudged Rhett in the rib. “It’s all right. Women make us crazy, and I saw what pathetic shape she had you in from the moment you boarded the coast guard’s boat. You’ve got my pity.”
Mandy smirked and pulled open the door. Heat crept over Rhett’s cheeks, but he didn’t slow down his determined stride to where the car waited in the parking stall out front of the office. First, he had to get Peyton back. Then he could explore the rush of “pathetic” emotions clogging his vessels.
“You, in the back,” barked Mandy. She got in and gestured for him to sit next to her. The first aid kit she’d taken from the office sat on her lap.
Rhett made a face. “Now’s not the time, Mandy,” he said, as Eric pulled out of the parking spot. “I won’t be able to sit still long enough for you to fix it up, and I don’t want to.”
“That’s the easy part,” she said, opening the box. “You have no choice but to sit still in a moving vehicle. What are you going to do when we apprehend these guys and you pass out from blood loss?”
“I’m not carrying your ass either,” Eric chimed from the front seat.
Mandy chuckled. “He’ll be fine. Now hold still.”
Rhett huffed but let her clean and bandage the bullet wound on his chest. He set his teeth against the pain and his skin went numb when it should have burned.
The agony of the bullet’s entry paled in comparison to his pulsating terror.
Until he had Peyton back safely, nothing else mattered.
Mandy’s voice droned on as she ripped off a strip of medical tape and secured it to his skin.
He tuned out the sound and focused on the road through the windshield in front of Eric.
“How much farther?”
Eric lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror and nodded at the GPS on the dash. “Three miles ahead. Hold on, boss. We’ll get her.”
“Probably should’ve called for backup.”
Mandy lifted her shoulder. “Let’s check it out first. We have enough cause to search. You witnessed Moretti’s guard take her, so he’ll have trouble denying his involvement.”
The vehicle slowed, and Rhett shook off Mandy’s fluttering hands. He repositioned his shirt and sat on the edge of the seat. He hated riding in the back—but he hated not driving more. Eric drove at a fucking snail’s pace. The small house with bright-yellow siding finally came into view.
“Not many people in this area,” Rhett mused.
Mandy smacked her lips. “Nope. It’s pretty exclusive in these parts. Must be nice to have his kind of cash.” Her tone rang with jealousy.
Unease thickened in his gut, turning the acid to the consistency of motor oil. A Cadillac Escalade took up most of the driveway, and there wasn’t another car in sight. Apprehension knocked against his eardrums. Peyton had been stuffed into the trunk of a silver sedan.
Something’s not right.
Eric shifted into park and Rhett shot from the car, removing his gun from its position behind his back.
“Wait,” Mandy called, but he didn’t slow.
He pounded on the door. No sound came from inside.
He peered into the glass next to the door as Mandy and Eric hustled up behind him.
Taking a step back, he lifted his foot, ready to boot the solid wood.
The jolt took the wind from his chest and the deep, throbbing pain from the bullet returned.
He grunted and swallowed back a curse. He couldn’t get weak now.
He had to ride every wave of adrenaline until he found Peyton.
He wouldn’t die from an upper pectoral wound.
Blood loss might hinder him, but as far as agility went, he wasn’t losing too much stamina—it just hurt like a bitch if he didn’t keep moving.
A lock released, the metal snapping. He dropped his shoe back to the wooden step and pressed his knuckles to the door, opening it. The receiver would have taken another ten fucking seconds accomplishing the same task.
A young guard stood there, and Rhett immediately identified him as Micah. He’d had the decency to offer up a blanket after Rhett had rescued Peyton from being raped on Moretti’s ship, but not enough decency to step in and stop Beanie from violating her.
Rhett flipped open his badge. “FBI. We’re here to speak to Mr. Moretti—pronto.”
Micah’s yellowish-green eyes flared with distaste, undoubtedly because Rhett had been undercover and could expose every fucking guard for something or other that he’d witnessed in the six weeks he’d worked alongside them.
“One minute.”
Moments later, fast-approaching footsteps thundered toward the door.
Donatello Moretti took Micah’s place, and his fading hairline lifted in surprise.
“Well. To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Callahan? Or should I say Agent Callahan?” He smirked, but tamped anger sizzled behind his emerald-green eyes.
Not that Rhett gave a fuck. He pocketed his badge. “Where is she?”
Moretti’s eyebrows drew together above his nose. “Who?”
Fury fizzled beneath his skin. He slammed his palm against the door, shaking the wood. “Peyton Risk. I witnessed Beanie abduct her over an hour ago.”
Moretti flicked his gaze from Rhett to Mandy and Eric, who stood behind him. Then he stepped back, offering them entrance. “I don’t know anything about this. You’re free to look around. I won’t even ask for a warrant.”
Not missing a beat, Rhett stepped into the house and scanned his gaze over the bleached hardwood floors and pale-blue walls. Seashells and fisherman’s netting decorated the walls. No sign of a struggle. Not even a wrinkle in the crisp white rug at his feet.
“Please round up your guards and anyone in the house so we aren’t taken by surprise,” Mandy instructed.
Rhett ignored her. Accidentally shooting one of Moretti’s men was the least of his worries. He stormed through the main level of the house, weaving his way through the kitchen to the seating area then back to the living room at the front of the house.
“I’ll look outside,” Eric called, as Rhett took the stairs two at a time to the second level. His insides twisted with every wasted footstep.
She’s not here.
The voice in his head drove his angst to a new level. No, no, no. She had to be here. If they’d made a mistake, if they’d missed a step, Peyton could already be dead. He searched the master bedroom and two secondary rooms—not a fucking thing but a neat and tidy house.
He rounded the staircase and pounded his feet into each step. He locked his tunnel vision on Moretti and closed the distance on his prey. Moretti lifted his hands in surrender, but it was too late. Rhett swept the lapels of his suit jacket into his palms and lifted the slimy bastard off his feet.
“Stop!” said one of the guards. “You can’t do that. He’s a senator.”
“Fuck you,” Rhett spat in his direction.
He returned his attention to Moretti despite Mandy’s hold on his bicep.
He shook her off as if she were no more than an annoying gnat.
“You know where she is. You hired Beanie to do your bidding—or are you forgetting that position was once mine? You ordered me to kill Peyton. You want her dead.”
Moretti’s eyes bulged in his head and his hands shook near his ears. “That was before. Once she escaped with you, I knew she was with the cops. Beanie’s asked for a lot of time off the last few days. If he’s after her, he has his own agenda.”
“Bullshit!” Rhett slammed his fist into the drywall next to Moretti’s head.
Mandy’s hold on his arm turned vicious. He swiveled to face her but didn’t release his death grip on Moretti’s collar.
“I know you’re upset, but you can’t act like this. It won’t get us anywhere.” She turned to Moretti. “Sir, you’re under arrest for suspicion of kidnapping and for ordering Agent Callahan to murder Ms. Risk.” She rattled off his rights as Eric moved forward and cuffed him.
Rhett caught Mandy before she could follow them out to the car.
“You know this isn’t going to help. He’s just going to insist on having a lawyer present, and meanwhile, Beanie’s torturing Peyton.
” His body shook with frustration. He was nowhere closer to getting Peyton, and every second that passed ensured she’d be dead by the time he found her.
“You’re forgetting something,” she said.
He frowned. “What?”
“Beanie wants something from you.” She pressed a phone into his hand. “Moretti was nice enough to lend this to you.” She winked and then escorted a scowling Moretti to the vehicle with Eric.
Rhett stepped outside and stared at Moretti’s large head as he ducked into the back seat. The phone sat heavy in his palm. One piece of information he held could blow this whole thing to pieces and bring back Peyton.
Jenny’s location.