Page 6 of Straight Shooter

He moved his hand, lifted a glass from the nightstand, and took a swig of golden liquid. “Want a drink?” he asked, putting the glass down and nodding at the mini fridge.

She wrinkled her face. “Do I look stupid enough to take a drink from one of Moretti’s guards after what just happened upstairs?”

He rocked his head from side to side. “Nah, you don’t look stupid at all. Yet here you are, on Donatello Moretti’s yacht, caught trying to steal.”

She opened her mouth but he held out a finger.

“I need to know what happened before I got there.” The statement came out hard, determined.

She frowned.

“Beanie. What did he do to you?” His stare fixed on her like a laser in the dim room. Familiarity tickled her memory, but it slipped away before she could place him.

She shook her head. “He didn’t . . . he didn’t finish.”

His chin drew back and he straightened. His shirt stretched across his chest. “He started? He raped you?”

She sucked air down her throat and shook her head. Fresh tears stung her eyes. She shook her head vehemently. “No. No, he didn’t.” The words came out strangled.

“He touched you?”

“Just what you saw.”

His jaw worked in a back-and-forth motion.

“Can we not talk about that now?” She hated the smallness in the plea, but if she spent one more second thinking about what Beanie had done, she’d break down.

His Adam’s apple bobbed and he nodded curtly. She loosened her death grip on her forearm and forced her back to relax against the chair.

“You know it doesn’t end there, right?”

New tension firmed her muscles. No. As difficult as talking about what Beanie had done was, that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. She squirmed in her seat. She needed a story—and fast.

“Who are you and why the fuck are you on this ship?”

Insisting the woman shower hadn’t done anything to clear Rhett’s head. What Beanie had done to her remained etched in his mind’s eye, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t shake the image. He shouldn’t have asked. Seeing her eyes mist with tears and her body fold tighter only made him want to hurt Beanie that much more.

He had to push it from his mind. Beanie wasn’t the reason she was here, and he couldn’t afford to arouse Moretti’s suspicion. As difficult as it was, he had to see past the enormous, innocent-looking eyes and find out who’d sent her.

She looked away. As an agent, he’d seen that look a million times before lies spewed. She opened her mouth and he raised his hand. “Don’t bother lying. Neither of us has the time to waste. The sooner you tell the truth, the easier I can help you get off this boat alive.”

She pursed her full lips and brought her knees close to her chest. “You’re not stupid,” she countered. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“To steal.”

“See. Smarter than you look.”

He clicked his teeth together and cocked his eyebrow. Cute. Funny. Getting information out of her was going to be a pain in the ass, though. Her hair was beginning to dry, and the light locks that reached her chest curled at the bottom. With her face now free of smeared makeup and blood, something about her sparked recognition.

Hell, she was a criminal. Surely her picture had passed his desk at some point. The ship rocked precariously beneath them, and he caught the nightstand to steady himself. The woman held the chair’s armrests, her skin a shade whiter than it had been a second ago. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked the sky.

The rocking slowed, and he turned his attention back to her. “What are you after?”

A coy smile played at her mouth. “That’s top secret.”

“Who hired you?”

“A friend.”