Page 32 of Straight Shooter

“It all fits together, Priss. One giant puzzle that needs all the little pieces to make sense.”

Seconds ticked by, and her stare moved from his eyes to his mouth, where it lingered. He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. But every atom in his body demanded that he press his mouth to hers.

“I’ll think about it.” She leaned back in her seat, and he stopped himself from reaching forward and dragging her closer. “In the meantime, I want you to answer some questions for me.”

“Like?”

“Like what were you doing at my hotel, Agent Callahan?”

Chapter

Twelve

Well, shit. She had him there. Satisfaction thickened the air around her.

Rhett didn’t pull back. Nor did he touch her, even though her knee sat scant inches from his fingers. He hadn’t lied to her yet, and he wasn’t about to start now. She wouldn’t like what he had to say, but being an agent was in his blood. It didn’t matter that she was friends with Serena and Dani—he had an obligation to find out what she was involved in.

He worked his gaze over her face and rubbed his fingers together. “I was checking up on you.” He let the words hang sheepishly.

Her eyebrows stretched up her forehead and irritation flared her nostrils. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I figured you’d either go after Moretti again, despite your promise not to, or someone would force you to get whatever they’d hired you to get in the first place.”

“Hmm. Well, you were wrong.”

“Whoever hired you isn’t upset you couldn’t follow through with the job?” Disbelief dragged out his words. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall into interrogator mode.

She glanced at the table then looked back at his face. He hated it when she lied—or was about to. She rocked her ankle from side to side on the patio. “No. I mean, I haven’t talked to him yet, so⁠—”

“Who’s him?”

Firming her arms across her chest, she tilted her head. “I’m not a rat. Sorry.”

Frustration rattled through him. He couldn’t pussyfoot around this. Jackson wanted an informant inside Moretti’s team in five days. If he didn’t get it—or something concrete—he’d get blown off the case. Hell, he’d probably get desk duty for three months. Like he’d said to Priss, it was all one big puzzle. Every piece mattered, especially the one she was holding so close to her chest.

He needed a different angle. He eased away from her, stretched his legs out in front of him, and folded his arms over his chest, matching her pose. He stared at her face and didn’t flinch. “Beanie found you pretty easy, wouldn’t you say?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Quicker than I gave him credit for.”

“He knows your name.”

The delicate skin of her throat bobbed. “Maybe. Or perhaps he followed you.” Her head jerked an inch, and accusation filled her words.

“I doubt it. I can spot a tail a mile away, and I was at your hotel two hours before you came running out. He wouldn’t have waited around that long. Plus, he had your cell phone in his possession on Moretti’s yacht. You don’t think he could have extracted information from it?”

Color seeped away from her cheeks.

“With the cops Moretti has on his payroll, judges as well, tracking your credit card records would have been a cinch.”

She shrugged. “What the hell is your point? He found me. There’s nothing I can do about that now.”

“But there is, Priss. Do you think he’s going to stop looking for you? Hell, there’s probably someone stationed at your place in San Diego right now just waiting for you to walk in the door. The way I see it, you’ve got two choices: Work with me or against me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Good grief. You must think I’m stupid.”

He loosened his jaw. “You’re the farthest thing from stupid. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I can carry out my case without your help.”

“Except I have to implicate my friends and business associates to do it.” Her voice rose in challenge. “You and I are a lot alike, Rhett. For every devoted bone in your body, I have two. You’re on the straight-and-narrow path and I’m on a rough, jagged one, and I never, ever, stray from my path. Just like you wouldn’t.”