Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11)

Hotshot (Buchanan-Renard #11) Page 10

Finn overcame his surprise enough to speak. “Don’t call me Hotshot.”

“You didn’t know who I was, did you, Finn?” she asked, saying his name to placate him.

“I didn’t have a clue,” he admitted. He was still trying to get past his initial reaction and stop acting as though he had never seen a beautiful woman before. This was Peyton, the little girl who would sit on the front steps and wait for him to come home from high school so she could tell him about her day. She was a nuisance back then, and now a temptress.

“Are your sisters here? I won’t recognize them, either, will I?”

“Yes, they’re here already. I’m running late.”

Beck whistled from the doorway to get Finn’s attention.

“Aren’t you in the wedding?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, I should go in. It’s good to see you again.”

Peyton didn’t want to miss the bride walking down the aisle. “It’s good to see you, too.”

It had suddenly become awkward, and she didn’t understand why. He wasn’t leaving. Beck whistled again, but Finn didn’t move.

“Are you going to the reception?” he asked.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Maybe I’ll see you after the wedding, then.”

Peyton continued on, but when she glanced back, she thought it strange that Finn was still standing in the same spot.

The church was packed. She was able to squeeze into the back row just in time to watch Beck and Tristan escort their mother down the aisle. Finn walked behind with his father.

The MacBains were all good-looking men, but Peyton thought there was a little something extra with Finn. Charisma, she decided. He was definitely charismatic. The camera sure loved him. The last time she’d seen him being interviewed on television, which was quite a while ago, she thought he looked so handsome and sophisticated. There was a weariness about him now, though. She didn’t know what kind of work he did for the FBI, but she had the feeling it was taking its toll.

The priest walked up to the altar, signaling for the ceremony to commence. It was a perfect wedding without a single misstep. Even Father John, who was known to ramble on and on during his sermons, kept his remarks short and interesting. He spoke of love and marriage and the blessings that would come from them. Peyton wondered if true love really did exist anymore. Was there such a thing as happily-ever-after? She hoped so. She didn’t want to become a cynic. She saw the way Tristan looked at his bride, and she wanted to believe in love, even though she had never experienced it herself.

She was one of the last to leave the church because she kept running into people she hadn’t seen in years. Most of them wanted to know what she was doing now. She answered with half-truths. While she didn’t come right out and lie, she made it sound as though she had just returned from France where she had been cooking up a storm. There wasn’t any need to go into the details of her employment fiasco.

Finn stood outside with Beck, watching the guests file out of the church. He spotted Peyton as she emerged. She was immediately surrounded by Navy men in white, all vying for her attention.

“Beck, see that woman over there?” Finn asked, nodding to the group. “Do you know who she is?”

“No, but I’m gonna find out. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? Have you met her yet?”

“Yes, and so have you. That’s Peyton Lockhart.”

Beck didn’t believe him. “That scrawny little kid? That Peyton Lockhart?”

Finn didn’t bother to answer because Beck was already pushing his friends out of his way to get to her. He watched his brother lift her off her feet and hug her, and her smile indicated she didn’t mind.

The guests mingled outside the church, waiting to offer their good wishes to the bride and groom, and Finn was smack in the middle of them. Ronan stood off to the side, having a conversation with Father John. Finn joined him, and while they listened to the priest, they watched the crowd.

By the time Peyton congratulated the happy couple, it was getting late. She noticed what time it was and headed toward her car. The reception wouldn’t begin until seven, and she was going to miss the celebration because she had to report to work. She had taken a temporary job as a sous-chef at Harlow’s restaurant. This definitely was not her dream job, but she hated being poor, and it was a way to make ends meet while she looked for something else. The owner had given her enough time off to attend the wedding, but only after she promised to be back for the Saturday dinner crowd. She had promised to be there by six.

She couldn’t find her sisters, but she saw her parents talking to some friends near the church steps. She waved to them as she made her way through the crowd.

Finn had walked down to the parking lot to get away from the noise. He was listening to phone messages and turned just as Peyton was approaching. He offered to walk her to her car.

“How come you aren’t coming to the reception?” he asked.

“I have to work,” she answered. She dug the keys out of her little clutch and hit the unlock button. Standing beside her car, she said, “It really was good to see you.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to—” He stopped. “When did you get this car?” he asked, staring past her and frowning.

“About a year ago. Why?”

Finn moved closer and squatted down behind the rear bumper. “These are bullet holes.”

“Yes, they are,” she agreed. She didn’t seem the least fazed. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late for work.”

He wasn’t about to let her leave. “They haven’t been here long.”

“The bullet holes?”

“Yes, the bullet holes,” he said.

“It happened a while ago.” Peyton wasn’t going to explain the Dalton nightmare now. It would take hours. She remembered how shocked she’d been when she first noticed the holes below her bumper. If she hadn’t dropped her keys behind the car, she probably never would have seen them, and when she realized they were from bullets, she nearly had heart failure.

“Look at the paint around the holes. It wasn’t that long ago. Do you know when it happened? You do, don’t you? Did you park it and when you came back . . . you weren’t in the car, were you? One of the holes is damned close to the gas tank. Tell me you weren’t in the car.”

He was asking questions so rapidly he wasn’t giving her time to answer.

“Yes, I was in the car. I was on the highway when it happened. He wanted me to stop. I didn’t know he shot at me until I was back in Texas. The holes are so low, I didn’t see them until a few days later. In fact, you’re the only other person who’s noticed them.”

“You couldn’t hear gunshots?” His voice was brisk, no nonsense. He was all FBI now.

Her hand went to her hip. “I was in the middle of a blizzard at the time. All I could hear was the howling wind.”

“Where exactly were you?”

“Northwest of Minneapolis. Finn, I’ve got to leave.”

She wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him a few more details.

“Who did you report it to?”

Peyton knew he wasn’t going to like her answer. “I didn’t report it.”

“Because you didn’t realize he was shooting at you.”

“Exactly.”

“But when you did see the bullet holes—”

She cut him off. “I didn’t report it.”

“Why the hell not?” Frustration made his voice sharp. “He could be out there now trolling for his next victim, and maybe this time he’ll hit the gas tank or, worse, the driver.”

She shook her head. “No, he won’t.”

“Did you get the make or model?”

“I have to leave.”

“No, you have to answer me.”

“You know what, Finn. You’re just as bossy and stubborn as you were when I was a little girl.”

“And you’re just as aggravating. Now answer me.”

She gave in. “It was a big white truck, and I know for a fact that he isn’t out on the highway looking for other victims.” Unless someone gets on Drew Albertson’s bad side, she silently added. She took a step closer. “And I’m not a victim. I took control of the situation and forced him to stop chasing me.”

“How?” he asked, trying to concentrate on what she was saying and not how sexy she was or how good she smelled.

“I sent him into a field. Actually, I sent him through a fence into a field.”

“How did you do that?”

“Some . . . intricate driving moves.” Slamming on the brakes and going into a spin that she was helpless to control could be considered an intricate move, couldn’t it?

“Intricate driving moves, huh?” he repeated, smiling.

“Yes,” she said. “He didn’t get hurt,” she hastened to add. “His car sank into the snow, and he was stuck. I pulled over to make sure he didn’t need an ambulance. I watched him get out and start pounding his fists on the truck.”

“You saw the shooter?”

Uh-oh. Too late, she realized she shouldn’t have mentioned that fact because now he was going to ask her another hundred questions. She decided to stop him before he got started.

“I didn’t get a close look at him, but I’ve got a good idea who he is.”

He seemed to take the news in stride. “Okay. Who is he?”

“His name is Rick Parsons, and he works for the company that hired me.”

He nodded calmly, but she noticed his jaw was clenched. “Since you never reported the incident to the police, he wasn’t arrested.”

“That’s right.”

“Why was he chasing you?”

“Because I left,” she said, evading the details. “They really hate it when you leave the company”—she shrugged—“so they shoot at you.”

Peyton thought he would think her answer funny, but apparently he wasn’t amused. She was sure he would have kept her there with his questions for the rest of the evening, or until he had the entire story, if a groomsman hadn’t appeared and told him he had to return to the church for photos.

Finn answered that he would be right there, then opened the car door for Peyton. Before he started back up the hill toward the church, he turned to Peyton and said, “We aren’t finished with this.”

SEVEN

Peyton dragged herself out of bed early Sunday morning, dutifully went to Mass, then changed into her workout clothes and ran four miles. She stopped for a convenience store Danish on her way back. There were power bars and granola cereal at home, and Lucy would try to push both on her. Her older sister had recently gotten into calorie counting and being responsible about the food she ate. She would be horrified to know that Peyton, with all of her gourmet training, actually liked junk food. Peyton didn’t live on it, but occasionally a bag of salty chips hit the spot. So did Taco Bell.

She loved her sisters, but both of them had their quirks. Maybe it was all part of being the oldest that Lucy thought she knew what was best for everyone. Her life would be so much happier if only Peyton and Ivy would do what she told them to do. That was never going to happen, of course, and after several weeks of living in such close quarters and being “suggested” to death—Lucy’s way of giving orders—Peyton was ready to pull her hair out.

Despite being bossy, Lucy was a kind and loving sister who would do anything for her and Ivy. She couldn’t commit the crime, but she’d help bury the body. She was generous to a fault, refusing to take any money to help with the rent or groceries, even though she was struggling financially. Her education was in interior design, and she’d taken a job in a furniture store to support herself until a career opportunity came along. Peyton was going to help pay this month’s rent as soon as she got her paycheck, which meant getting into a major argument. Her sister would carry on something fierce, but Peyton was determined to get her way and do her share until she could find a decent job and move into her own place. She was pretty sure her own quirks were driving Lucy crazy, too.

All three sisters knew that, in desperate times, they could go home to their parents. They would always be welcomed. Their father would do anything in the world for his girls, and so would their mother. It wouldn’t be a peaceful homecoming, though, for the sisters would be constantly subjected to talks about finding the right man and settling down. Their mother simply couldn’t help herself. In this day and age their mother’s archaic views were almost embarrassing.

Ivy was the least bothered by their mother’s nagging. The youngest sister could get along with just about anyone. She loved to have a good time. She had been quite the party girl until her grades began to slip and her father laid down the law. Then she got serious about her future. Of the three she was the most uncomplicated and the sweetest. She had an abundance of patience. Peyton wondered if she would change once she was out of college and in the real world.

When Peyton came through the back door from her run, Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. She was dressed but still looked half asleep. Her light brown hair hung over her eyes.

“How much did you have to drink last night?” Peyton asked.

Lucy pushed her hair away from her face before answering. “Not much at all. I danced a lot, though. Those Navy guys are crazy.” She opened the carton that was sitting on the table and poured some milk into her coffee. “Did you know Beck is a Navy SEAL?”

Peyton leaned against the kitchen sink and drank a glass of tepid water. “Yes, I did know.”

“He’s wild,” she said. “Works hard, plays hard, I guess. Tristan looked happy,” she added. “I talked to Brooke. She seems nice.”

“What about Finn?” Peyton asked. She turned on the faucet and filled her glass again. “Did you talk to him?”

“He came over to the table to say hi,” she said. “God, he’s good-looking. And sexy,” she added. “The women wouldn’t leave him alone.”

Peyton felt a burst of irritation and thought her reaction didn’t make any sense at all. Why did she care who was with him? She hadn’t seen the man in years. “I spoke to Finn before the wedding outside the church. He didn’t recognize me.”

“When you were little, you used to think he belonged to you and only you. Do you remember?”

She smiled. “I do remember. Did Ivy have a good time? I wish I could have been there.”