Page 58 of Straight Shooter

If he caught my hint.

“And what happens to Jenny?”

He shrugged. “You know the answer.”

She tried to force her fragmented thoughts into one logical one. If she was going to die anyway, she wouldn’t take someone else with her. Cold sweat touched her top lip, and she dragged her teeth over the flesh to stop the tickle. She met the lifeless depths of his irises. “Then you know my answer.”

His jaw flexed and he stood, pushing back the chair. He shoved it to a corner and removed a gun from his pants. “Fine.”

Her body hardened to slate as he aimed the weapon at her forehead. She turned her face away. Tremors possessed her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating the rip of a bullet through her flesh.

“Look at me!” Beanie’s scream made the cement under her feet vibrate.

She jerked her head in his direction and opened her eyes. Beanie smiled, aimed the gun at Max’s chest, and fired.

Crack! Crack!

Max’s body spasmed. Petals of blood blossomed on his chest and spread from the two holes. Her friend’s eyes shifted to her and glazed. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she gasped for air.

Max’s chest heaved. Then Beanie brought the gun to Max’s temple.

Crack!

Blood and flesh flung from the opposite side of Max’s head, coating the wall in purple and red matter.

“Ah, fuck!” Len screamed and leaped backward, but the splatter showered his face and colored his shirt.

Vomit projected from Peyton’s stomach. She leaned forward and expelled searing-hot fluid onto the floor at Beanie’s feet. Tears mixed with sweat on her face as she spit the last of the puke from her mouth. A low buzz sounded in her ears and her vision blurred and then focused, blurred and then focused.

“Congratulations,” Beanie sang. His voice penetrated the pitter-patter of her pulse and the mesh coating her brain. “You’ve just committed your first murder.”

He stepped over the puddle she’d created and stalked across the room. His beige loafers filled her vision. A rustle of material assured her he’d pocketed the weapon.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He patted her hand. Her gag reflex jumped at his touch. Then his hand slid over her knuckles. In one swift movement, he jerked up her wrist, grabbed her right pinky, and twisted.

A scream erupted from her chest as her bone snapped in two. Pain shot through her arm and black spots dotted her vision. Her head fell backward and a gray curtain dropped, clicking off her mind.

Rhett passed Moretti’s phone to Mandy and drove his hand through his hair. The setting sun warmed the skin on the back of his neck but did nothing to thaw the ice in his veins. He’d failed. Not just Peyton, but himself. And Peyton’s friends. God, Dani would take this hard. All because he’d fucked up. He pressed his palm to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Blood oscillated at his temples.

His mind buzzed with information and tore apart every piece of the case: Max’s disappearance, Vicky’s death . . . There had to be something he wasn’t seeing, something he’d overlooked. Christ, if he were less attached to the investigation on a personal level, he’d be able to think like a federal agent. Instead, he was too caught up in the images that invaded his focus. The strawberry tint of Peyton’s blonde hair, which gleamed in the sunlight and made him wonder if she’d been more of a redhead as a kid. The laughing, know-it-all smirk she’d flashed at him a dozen times since he rescued her on Moretti’s yacht. Her body spread out in his bed, her long locks fluffy from their lovemaking and pink marks on her neck and breasts from his kisses.

A vise squeezed his heart.

Mandy caught his arm. “What’d he say?”

He shook his head. “He said he’s going to—” His voice broke and he shook his head. “We have to find her. Get me a location on Beanie’s number. Odds are his phone’s encrypted, but we need to start somewhere.”

“Sure. Did he say anything else? Did you speak to Peyton?” Worry creased Mandy’s forehead, and he kicked himself in the ass for believing for even a second that she could have been in on this.

He swallowed down the marbles that had collected inside his throat. “Yeah.” He turned away and recalled Peyton’s words. He’d asked her for a clue and instead, she’d given him something about her sister. His mind churned until one thought came forward, hard and strong.

He seized Mandy’s shoulder. “She doesn’t have a fucking sister!”

Mandy cocked her head, but he ignored her questioning look and pulled out his phone. Only one person could clear this up. He dialed Brock’s number.

“Hey, bro. How’s the sunshine state?”

“I need to speak to Dani.” The words rushed out as if a dam had broken inside him.