Page 66 of Straight Shooter

“It’s b-broken.”

His insides contracted. Pain etched the fine corners of her eyes and creases lined her forehead. He inched open her hand. She squeaked and jumped but didn’t pull away.

Her pinky finger twisted out to the side. The skin around the stiffly pointed bone held varying shades of blue and mauve.

“That motherfucker.”

Her tear-filled eyes locked on his shoulder. “You’re shot.”

He gave one shake of his head. “It’s nothing.”

“When I saw you fall into the water . . .”

He brushed a kiss over her forehead and swept his arm under her legs again and stalked to the waiting ambulance. He didn’t need to talk about that moment right now—all that mattered was getting her looked at.

“Rhett, it’s a broken finger. My legs are fine.”

He ignored her protest. A female paramedic received them and positioned Peyton on a gurney. Bursts of agony ping-ponged in his shoulder and he dragged in one deep breath after another to ease it as one of the paramedics bustled around him with a medical kit. Now that Peyton was safe, the wound flamed hot and angry. As the paramedic worked, Rhett turned toward the house just as Beanie, in a set of cuffs, was lowered into the back of a squad car. His eyes met Rhett’s over the hood, dark and formidable.

Rhett ground his teeth together. Beanie would pay one way or another. Right now, all he wanted was to leap across the driveway and put his fist through Beanie’s skull. Fierce, burning protectiveness scorched his skin. He’d make sure every charge possible was laid on Beanie for what he’d done—for killing an innocent woman, for planning to kill Jenny, and for hurting what was his.

Peyton.

His heart contracted and he turned to see her talking to the paramedics. She was tough, but she was hurting. The beating in his chest grew loud and hard. Something had happened to him since Priss waltzed into his life, and now he’d never be the same. Not until he figured out what was between them or how to deal with it—but one thing was for sure, he needed her.

One big problem still remained. She was a sworn criminal, and going against his badge went against everything he stood for. They were floating in a clusterfuck because of the differences in their life paths. But he’d be damned if those differences would stand in the way of his having her.

If she wanted him.

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Peyton yawned and stretched her toes. Light streamed in through the break in the curtains and the scent of man and woods hit her nose. She peeked open an eye and stared at the thick, bristly length of Rhett’s neck. She smiled at his unkempt form. Even the hair on his head needed a good trim.

His brow line dipped but his eyes remained closed. “Why are you staring at me?”

The grumble brought a smile to her lips. “I was wondering if you’re going to shave this,” she said, tapping his whiskers.

He caught her hand. “I plan to at some point.” One eyelid cracked open. “How’s your hand?” He nodded at the one tucked between them.

At the hospital, the doctor had numbed her pinky and set it in a heavy splint attached to her ring finger. Now, the pain was returning. She forced a smile. If Rhett knew she was hurting he’d urge her to take the pain pills. She didn’t want to feel loopy right now.

“I’m fine.” She lifted her head to view the clock on the nightstand. “We slept late.”

His fingers moved to her shoulder and toyed with her skin. She let her cheek fall back down to his chest and focused on the beating of his heart.

“You kept saying you wanted to go home.” Rhett’s voice vibrated against her face.

She closed her eyes. She’d said a lot after taking the pain meds last night and could only hope she hadn’t revealed something that would embarrass the hell out of her.

She made a face. “I don’t like hospitals much.”

“You said it here.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I was a little off last night.”

“Hmm.”