Page 20 of Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard 11)

  Finn walked in just as she was repeatedly slamming the office phone down. On edge and thoroughly frustrated, she saw him and wanted to throw herself into his arms and make crazy love to him. If he kissed her, nothing else would matter. Just Finn. His eyes narrowed and his expression became intense. He knew what she was thinking, she decided. He was staring at her mouth. Oh yes, he knew. For the first time in her life she was going to give in to her fantasy. She wouldn’t tear her clothes off until they were in her bedroom, but that was the only concession she would make.

  Her eyes locked on his, and she started to get up. Then Lucy stormed in, stomping all over her fantasy.

  “It’s going to take at least a year to get this place in shape.”

  “That’s positive thinking,” Peyton said.

  “She’s been full of cheer all afternoon,” Christopher remarked dryly as he walked past her and dropped his notepad on an empty desk.

  Lucy poked him in the back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Christopher slowly turned around. “I have to explain it to you?”

  “Yes, you do.” She was primed for a fight.

  “You’ve done nothing but complain. Either get with the program or get out.”

  He didn’t wait for her to respond. He picked up a phone and punched in the number to get his messages.

  Peyton was feeling claustrophobic. She had been sitting at the desk for hours and getting next to nothing done. She stood, arched her back to work out the stiffness, then walked over to Finn who was leaning against the desk with his arms folded across his chest. To a casual observer he looked relaxed. He wasn’t, though. She could feel the tension in him. He looked like he was ready to pounce.

  “Are you all right?” She whispered the question.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” He snapped the answer.

  No, he wasn’t fine. Something was wrong, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, she wasn’t going to probe.

  A couple of minutes passed as they watched the verbal tennis match going on between Lucy and Christopher. The second Christopher had hung up the phone, Lucy commenced with the argument. Lucy made some valid points regarding the upgrades she wanted, but Christopher also made a good argument against her choices.

  Peyton was trying to think of something to say to stop the dispute when Finn said, “Christopher’s having fun.”

  She didn’t believe him until Christopher turned toward his office and she saw the glint in his eyes. Finn was right. He was enjoying himself sparring with Lucy.

  “Lucy doesn’t look like she’s having much fun.”

  “She’s frustrated,” Finn said, keeping his voice as low as Peyton’s so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  “This isn’t about sex,” she whispered.

  He grinned. “Did I say it was?”

  “You said she was frustrated.”

  He laughed, drawing a frown from Lucy before she turned back to Christopher to make yet another point.

  “Frustrated because she isn’t winning this round,” Finn explained.

  “Oh. I misunderstood.”

  Finn glanced over at Peyton. Her face was pink with embarrassment. “I’m just messing with you,” he admitted. “She wants him as much as he wants her.”

  “Aha!” Peyton felt vindicated. She nudged him. “Unless you’re a mind reader you can’t know what either one of them wants.”

  “I read people for a living, you know.”

  She snorted.

  “Oh, that’s nice,” he said.

  Peyton could almost see the tension easing from his shoulders. His smile was boyish again. “Do you want to swim tonight?” she asked.

  No hesitation there. “Yes,” he answered. “And you promised to swim with me.”

  “I promised? I don’t know about that. On second thought, maybe we should put it off until tomorrow. You look tired to me.”

  “Nice try, Lockhart. You’re swimming, and I’m not at all tired.” Nodding toward Lucy he added, “But your sister looks wiped out.”

  Peyton had to agree. Lucy’s face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had been working long hours and needed a break. They all did.

  Christopher had reached the door to his office when Peyton called his name. “Want to get a beer with Finn and me?” she asked.

  He didn’t have to think about it. “Yeah, let’s do that. I could use a beer.” With a meaningful glance at Lucy, he added, “It’s been a long day.”

  “What about me?” Lucy asked.

  “You need something stronger,” Peyton told her. “You need nachos and beer.”

  “I do,” Lucy said. She perked up the second she heard the word nachos. It was her forbidden indulgence. “I really, really do. I’ll just get my purse.”

  Finn put his arm around Peyton’s waist and pulled her closer. He lowered his voice so the other two couldn’t hear. “You have more bad news to give, don’t you?”

  “How did you know?”

  He pictured her pounding the desk with the office phone. “Just a hunch.”

  He pulled keys from his pocket and announced, “I’ll drive. Where are we going?”

  Peyton and Lucy answered at the same time. “Reds.”

  “You haven’t been banned from that place yet, have you?” Christopher asked Lucy.

  She trailed him into the hallway. “That’s not funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he countered. “I was asking a serious question.”

  Peyton slipped her hand under Finn’s arm and followed them. “They’re a lovely couple, aren’t they?”

  ______

  The bar and grill was just a mile away from Bishop’s Cove. On the way out of the resort’s gates, Finn stopped to talk to two guards on duty and noticed the photocopy of a picture of Debi taped to the glass. “Absolutely no entry” was written underneath. That’s not gonna keep the woman out, he thought. She’d walk ten miles of beach to get what she wanted.

  Reds was a local hangout. At first glance, it looked like a dive. The walls, painted a dark red, were cracked and the old wooden floor sagged, but the place was clean. There were several flat-screen televisions on the walls, each showing a different sport. The place was packed and every seat was taken, leaving the area around the bar crowded with standing patrons.

  The bartender was pouring brews from the tap when they walked in. He turned at the door opening, and his eyes immediately zoned in on the gun at Finn’s side. Setting the full mug on a tray for the waitress, he started toward them with a hand up, signaling them to halt. Finn held up his badge, and the bartender nodded and went back to his job. No one else in the bar noticed the weapon, or if they did, they didn’t care.

  A booth at the back of the bar was being cleared, and Lucy elbowed her way through the drinking crowd to get to it before anyone else could. Christopher sat next to her.

  Finn was stopped by an older couple. “I know you,” the man said. “You were on television. You did a heck of a thing. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  His wife smiled with adoration. “I saw you, too. You were so courageous.”

  The man insisted on shaking Finn’s hand before he would allow him to leave.

  Peyton whispered, “I told you someone would recognize you.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t take home three gold medals and expect that no one will remember. I don’t care how long it’s been. What’s so funny?”

  He wouldn’t tell her, but he couldn’t stop laughing as they slid into the booth across from Lucy and Christopher. He faced the bar and the crowd with his back to the wall, a perfect spot to see what was coming. He didn’t expect trouble, but he was always ready for it.

  As they feasted on nachos and fish tacos, everyone’s mood lightened. Peyton was glad to see Lucy having a good time. She even told a joke.

It was a lame one, but they still laughed—even Christopher. The laugh lines appeared around his eyes again, and the frown lines that had been furrowing his brow were erased. When he told a funny story about one of the guests of the resort who tried to smuggle a lamp from her room, Lucy laughed so hard she grabbed hold of his arm and leaned into him. Maybe there was something going on between the two of them after all, Peyton thought.

  Inevitably, the conversation turned to the work at the resort.

  “We’ll be back on track tomorrow,” Lucy told Finn.

  “No, we won’t,” Peyton interjected.

  “Didn’t you look at the schedule?” Lucy asked. “The plumbers—” She stopped when Peyton shook her head. “What?”

  “No plumbers,” Peyton announced.

  Christopher didn’t seem fazed by the news. Lucy, on the other hand, went ballistic.

  “If you tell me—”

  “I am telling you,” Peyton said. “According to the scheduler, you called and canceled the order a week ago. Just like the electricians. Now they’re on another job and won’t be available for at least a month.”

  “Cassady is doing this,” Lucy said between clenched teeth. “I’ll bet the plumbers are working on one of his high-rises.”

  Peyton turned to Finn to explain. “Cassady is trying to sabotage us so that he can step in and get control of Bishop’s Cove.”

  “I can bring in new plumbers, just like I’m doing with the electricians,” Christopher offered, “but we’ll have to keep quiet about them, too.” His calm and pragmatic attitude was reassuring as he went on to lay out his plan. He would go beyond the nearest town of Port James and hire tradesmen. It might cost a little more, he told them, but they wouldn’t have to deal with Cassady’s interference.

  Finn was listening to the conversation, but he was watching the bar. Two men in their late thirties were arguing with the bartender.

  Peyton drummed her fingertips on the table. “I think it’s time we started playing hardball. Christopher, who is Cassady’s biggest competitor?”

  Finn smiled. “I like the way your mind works.”

  “Miller,” Christopher answered. “Dan Miller and Scott Cassady have been fighting each other over every project in Port James. Miller is way ahead of Cassady there, but Cassady prides himself on the fact that he squeezed Miller out here on the island.”

  “You’re saying Miller doesn’t have a single building here?” Lucy asked.

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  Peyton and Lucy looked at each other and began to laugh. Then Peyton said, “I think it’s time to invite Mr. Miller to tour our little cove.”

  “How soon do you think word will get back to Cassady?” Lucy asked.

  Christopher grinned. “Before Miller gets out of his car.”

  Finn interrupted their discussion by jumping to his feet. “Stay here,” he ordered as he unsnapped his gun and headed to the bar. The panicked young bartender was trying to separate the two men who were now going at each other in a shoving match. Each man outweighed the bartender by at least a hundred pounds. One had a large beer gut, and the other had a pronounced double chin. Both were so out of shape, they were panting and sweating profusely. Finn suspected that, if they got into a fistfight, the exercise would kill them. Double Chin was accusing Beer Gut of stealing money from him. It was always money or women, Finn thought.

  Everyone in the bar fell silent and scattered to watch the brawl from a safe distance. The argument was getting out of hand, and Finn got there just in time. Beer Gut was reaching behind his back and pulling a handgun from under his shirt when Finn slammed his head down on the bar. “Hands where I can see them,” he ordered.

  Beer Gut struggled to lift his head. “Who are you to tell me—”

  Finn took his gun. “I’m FBI. Now put your hands on the bar.”

  He turned to Double Chin whose hand had disappeared behind him. “You too,” Finn barked. “Turn around and hands on the bar.”

  “What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” The smirk on his face disappeared and he froze when Finn pressed the barrel of a gun against his forehead.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” Finn said.

  Double Chin turned slowly. Finn snatched his gun and pushed him toward the bar.

  “What were you planning?” Finn asked the two culprits. “To shoot each other in a bar full of people?”

  “He owes me money,” Beer Gut whined.

  “Oh, then that’s all right.” Finn wanted to coldcock both of them but he resisted the urge. He patted them down and removed a switchblade from Beer Gut’s pocket, then dragged both men to the back of the bar and made them sit on the floor to wait for the police. As he was making the call, he walked back to his table where Lucy and Christopher were watching the action with mouths open and eyes wide.

  “It will be a few minutes before we can leave,” he told them.

  He was worried Peyton would be freaked out, but she wasn’t. Smiling, she said, “Then I’ll have dessert.”

  Ten minutes and one scoop of vanilla ice cream later, Officers Trace Isles and Cody Pepperson arrived. Finn was waiting for them, standing next to the two men sitting on the floor.

  “Twice in one day,” Trace said. “We’re sure glad you’re here. You cut our crime wave down to zero.”

  “How are your ribs?” Finn asked.

  “Sore, but intact. No cracks from that bullet. You know, it could have been a bloodbath out there.”

  Finn nodded. “It could have.”

  “Sorry you had to spend so long at the station with reports.”

  Grinning, Finn said, “I spent more time on the phone with my boss.”

  “I didn’t think those reporters who showed up were going to let you get out of there,” Trace said.

  “I just let them know that the Port James Police Department would be handling any statements.” He changed the subject and nodded toward the two brawlers on the floor. “About these two . . .” He told what had happened and gave Trace the weapons.

  Across the room, Peyton was watching with interest and trying to figure out what was going on. It appeared that Finn was familiar with one of the police officers, and she couldn’t understand how they would know each other. When at last the police hauled the two men to their feet to take them away, Finn returned to their table.

  “We can leave now,” he announced.

  “Did you know that police officer?” she asked.

  “We’ve met,” he answered.

  Still curious, she asked, “Where?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” he answered as he took her hand and led the way toward the door with Lucy and Christopher close behind.

  They were halfway across the bar when Peyton noticed that everyone was staring at them and then glancing up at the television overhead. She pulled her hand away from Finn’s and stopped. On the screen was an image of a man being carried on a gurney to an ambulance. The picture that followed was Finn’s face. Microphones were being shoved at him as he was getting into his car. Across the bottom of the screen scrolled the story of a shooter at a bank and the brave FBI agent who saved the city from carnage.

  Peyton looked at the screen and then at Finn in total shock. “You saved a whole city?”

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

  She started laughing.

  “Of course you did,” she said as she let him steer her toward the door.

  They made their exit just as the cheering and the clapping erupted. All of it for Finn. The hotshot.

  TWENTY

  Peyton’s idea of swimming was to sit on the side of the pool and dangle her feet in the water. If she were at the beach, she would sit in the sand and let the surf gently wash over her toes. For her, swimming was a leisurely, relaxing activity that didn’t involve work.   She knew Finn wasn’t going to let her be a bystander tonight. When he said they were going to swim, he really meant swim.

  Maybe she could distract him, or at the very least torment him a little. She knew he liked her body—he’d told her so several times now—and if he was going to force her to do laps, she was going to wear one of her old and definitely obscene bikinis. She wanted to make it difficult for him to concentrate, and the suit just might do it. The top of the bikini, two triangles of fabric that plunged to a deep V, revealed the fullness of her breasts, and the bottom—what little there was—was fabric held together by a string tied into a bow at the top of each hip. This wasn’t the first time she’d worn the killer suit. She’d put it on several times in the past couple of years, but she had never had the nerve to actually wear it out of her bedroom. Tonight was different. She wanted to drive the man who had just saved a frickin’ city out of his ever-loving mind.

  She pulled on a University of Texas T-shirt and a pair of white tennis shorts. Just in case the air turned chilly she carried a thick white terry-cloth robe she’d borrowed from linens at the hotel. It would keep her warm on the walk back. She tucked her phone and a few other necessary items in the robe’s deep pockets, and she was all set.

  Finn was waiting for her by the door. He took her key to lock the deadbolt on their way out and slipped the key in the pocket of his jeans. As usual, his gun was attached to his belt. He noticed her staring at it. “We’ve been over this. While I’m here, I’m keeping the gun close.”

  “It came in handy at the bar.”

  He took hold of her hand. “You’re dragging your feet. Let’s get moving.”