Page 46 of Straight Shooter

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.”