Page 48 of Straight Shooter

“Street camera on the night of Raquel’s death.”

She bounced on Rhett’s knee to face him. He winced and steadied her hips to keep them from wiggling any more.

“That’s huge,” she wheezed.

“Yeah. Mandy’s doing more digging to see if he has any properties in the area, anything else that can further tie him to Key West, but I think this is our strongest lead.”

“Can you arrest him?”

“Best we can do is bring him in for questioning, but Lieutenant Jackson won’t allow us to do that unless we have all our ducks in a row.”

Her shoulders sagged. “That’s ridiculous. You have proof Renton Stone and Andre are friends, and that Stone was in the same city as Andre on the night of Raquel’s murder.”

“But we have nothing to prove he was with Andre at that time.”

Rhett’s phone chirped in her hand, and she jumped before shoving it at his chest.

He snickered and read the screen. The smile fell from his lips. “It’s Mandy.” He swiped to answer and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Peyton itched to rest her head on his shoulder so she could listen to the other half of the conversation, but that’d likely be too obvious. Rhett swirled the ends of her ponytail around his hand as he listened.

“No shit.” He scoffed. “We need to check it out. Text me the marina’s address and Stone’s slip number.” He disconnected, picked her up by the waist, and stood, dropping her to her feet.

“What is it?”

Rhett’s demeanor had shifted. His movements were jerky as he snagged his keys off the kitchen counter. “Stone has a boat docked in long-term parking at a marina. It could be nothing, but I need to check it out. I can drop you off with Mandy while⁠—”

Irritation sizzled over her tongue. “I’m coming with you.” She stormed past him and shoved her feet into her sandals.

Rhett pressed his palm into the door above her head, stopping her from opening it. “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know where Stone is right now, and if there’s heat circling about Jenny remembering Raquel’s attacker, he could be trying to hide evidence—or escape.” Anxiety creased the skin at his temples. “Please, stay back. For me. I’ll worry less knowing you’re safe.”

She positioned her hand on her hip. “I appreciate that and all, but you said you wouldn’t leave me again after what happened at the hotel. I’m safer with you and you know it.”

He cursed and massaged his temple. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

She grinned, planted a kiss on his cheek, and opened the door. “Death by sex, maybe.”

Chapter

Seventeen

“Stay beside me.” Rhett’s command came out stiffer than he’d intended, but he couldn’t hide the annoyance that stirred in his gut as he exited the car. The pier was more like a road with small parking stalls in front of each boat slip. Peyton rounded the vehicle and he caught her hand, smoothing his thumb over her cool skin. He hated that she was here with him, popping in on Stone’s boat, but she had a point—she was safest with him. Right now, he couldn’t trust anyone else with Peyton’s life, even his teammates.

She didn’t even seem appreciative that he wanted to preserve her life. No, Peyton wasn’t the type to rely on a man for anything, let alone safety, so his gesture was completely lost on her. Which should piss him the fuck off, but instead, it made him want to strip her naked and fuck her right on the pier under the blazing sun.

“Is that it?” Peyton pointed to slip number 808, which was on their left.

He paused and scanned the marina. The sun lit the early afternoon sky, and choppy waves crashed against the cement and rocked the boats. The salty scent of seawater clung to the air. In slip 808, a thirty-foot sailboat swayed in the water. The words Morning Star were painted in brilliant blue on the stern.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. He caught her bicep and backed her to the side of the pier, away from where vehicles traveled. No point in asking her to wait in the car. That would be a losing battle. “Wait here, I want to check it out.” He pulled his Glock from the back of his pants and ignored Priss’s narrowed eyes and the sassy pop of her hip.

Whether she liked it or not, she wasn’t getting close to the boat. He scanned the scene around them—no threat. She’d be fine for a minute. At the end of the day, he had to do his job, and that meant securing evidence as well as protecting the innocent—even if she wasn’t all that innocent.

He kept the Glock pointed down and in front of his feet and skirted to the dock alongside Stone’s boat. No cars occupied the surrounding stalls, and the only people he’d witnessed in the marina so far were old men doing maintenance near the pier’s entrance. Even though it was deserted he had to check it out. He kept his head low as he scanned the vessel’s main area. He studied every visible angle, but everything pointed to the ship being empty. So much for obtaining enough cause for a warrant.

He shoved the gun back into his pants, picked up a stone, and skipped it across the water. It plunged after one hop, much like the sinking case at his feet. Without the accomplice to Raquel’s murder, they didn’t have a fucking clue as to who’d hired Max and Peyton. Mandy had assured him the cops had searched every inch of Max’s apartment and the FBI had confiscated his devices—nothing. Wherever Max was, he likely held the phone he’d been using to communicate with the bastards. Until he turned up, the case was dead in the water.

He stared out over the glistening ocean—the only silver lining in this whole mess was that he got to stick close to Peyton a little while longer. But she wouldn’t let him play bodyguard forever.