Page 42 of Straight Shooter

She curled her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from grabbing the top of the rail. No need to get close and have someone spot her. By now, Vicky’s body would be on a stretcher and zipped up in a black body bag. The cops were undoubtedly working their way through the units, but there were hundreds—it would take some time for them to get to Max’s. Nausea crashed against her insides, and she gulped down a mouthful of air to prevent vomit from firing down on the unsuspecting people below.

Pressing her hand to her chest, she closed her eyes. Get a grip. Movement sounded behind her, and relief washed away the nausea. Rhett had that effect on her. She turned around to meet the wall of his chest, which her body so craved.

Instead, an unfamiliar black shirt filled her vision. Fear pressed down on her tongue. She tilted her head back and stared into menacing eyes. The man’s blond hair was gelled away from his pale face, and long whiskers jutted out in patches from his jaw. Warning signals bleeped through her skull. She lunged backward and opened her mouth to scream.

He shot his hand out and caught her windpipe, cutting off her air. Panic rushed through her veins. He raised her onto her tiptoes, and she gulped and sputtered against his leather glove.

No, no, no. She couldn’t die like this. Not by the hands of this monster.

He shoved her back against the railing, and the hard steel carved itself into her back. Pain radiated along her muscles. He stretched her head back over the railing. The sound of traffic and distant voices roared in her ears.

“Tell me Jenny’s address or you’ll end up like Vicky.” Spit flung from his lips and his eyes widened, accentuating the bright whites around his irises. His pupils tightened to the size of pinholes.

Tears gushed out of her eyes. Her neck screamed under the strain. Her face throbbed.

She shook her head and clawed at his wrist. Even if she remembered Jenny’s address, she couldn’t give up an innocent woman to save her own life. Rhett wasn’t far away. Her gaze shifted to the window beside the balcony. If she could just get his attention . . .

With the last of her resources, she forced a scream through her restricted throat. It came out as a weak gurgle.

The man’s laugh shook his body, and his eyes glinted maliciously. “Fine. I hope someone catches you.” He swept his hand underneath her knees. The sky filled her vision.

Chapter

Fifteen

Rhett leaped through the patio door. A growl ripped from his chest as he grabbed the attacker’s hair and slammed his head into the rail next to Peyton’s waist. The man folded to the ground. Peyton teetered on the railing, her eyes round and her mouth open in a silent scream. He snagged the material of her dress and caught her neck with his other hand, yanking her off the railing and toward his chest. His fingers worked through her hair and his arms wrapped around her fiercely, as if keeping her close could somehow erase what had just happened.

Seconds ago, he’d entered the living room to see the dark-clothed man holding Peyton over the railing. In that moment, he’d felt his chest had been pounded with a fucking sledgehammer. The pain still rippled through his core. Had he arrived one second later she’d be meeting the concrete right now, just like Vicky had. All because of that sick bastard Moretti.

He’d kill him.

Peyton’s scent surrounded him, and he burrowed his face into the smooth skin at her neck. Her wild locks danced over his face, but he welcomed the silky caress. She secured her arms around his neck, and her faint sobs caught his heart. He stumbled away from the railing, keeping her dangling in his embrace.

He needed to check her. To make sure the sonofabitch hadn’t hurt her, but for the life of him he couldn’t stop holding her. Her frantic breaths grazed his earlobe and her tears coated his cheek.

“Honey, are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Speaking took more effort than breathing.

She nodded and then shook her head. “I’m fine. I just—he was going to throw me over the edge.” Her voice caught on a hiccup, and he smoothed his hand down her back.

“I know.” Rhett dropped his gaze to the bastard. Using his foot, he flipped the man from his side to his back. The guy’s mouth hung open slackly. It looked like Sid, one of Moretti’s guards.

“What are we going to do about him?” She planted her cheek on his breastbone but didn’t pull away even an inch.

He tried to get his brain to operate on at least a couple of cylinders, but every idea fell through a hole. Until he had Peyton on solid ground and away from harm, he wouldn’t be able to form a lucid thought. He hefted her up and carried her through the balcony door. Setting her on her feet, he turned her so he could stare at her while keeping an eye on Sid’s body.

He roamed his gaze over her blotchy face. Lack of moisture was making her lips paler than usual, and she wasn’t blinking. He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone to her jaw and then to the deep red stain around the center of her throat. “Are you hurt?”

Her hand fluttered to his and she shook her head. “It hurts here,” she said, brushing the mark. “But I’ll be okay.”

“I’m going to find something to tie him up with. I’m not leaving you alone, so come with me.”

She planted her hand on his chest, hard and firm. “No. We can’t risk him waking and getting a second chance. I’ll find something.”

He didn’t release her when she tried to walk away, but she shook out of his hold. “I’m fine, honest.” The tremble to the statement proved her a liar. She straightened her spine and turned down the hall.

How the hell had Sid gotten in? Rhett swung his stare to the front door, now ajar. He’d locked it, of that he was certain. As he strode toward the entrance, the door was kicked open. Rhett jumped and yanked his gun from his pants. Before he had the weapon stationed in front of him, the tension in his arms relaxed. “Eric, what the hell are you doing here?”

Eric lowered his Glock, and his anxious brown eyes scanned the area beyond Rhett’s shoulder. “I should ask you the same,” he said, jerking his gaze back to Rhett. “I heard what happened and knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that there was a crime scene at Max’s residence, so I came to check things out.” Eric wet his lips and remained at the entrance, his hands still on his gun. A screech of warning blasted in Rhett’s head.