Ricochet: Friendly Fire Page 3

  Dane and Rick unbuckled from their seats, moving to stand next to the door. The crewman tethered his own harness to a large metal loop welded to the wall and slid open the side door, letting the loud wind roar in. The humid air swirled through the helicopter in a deafening tornado.

  “Ready!”

  Dane got into position, crouching over the open space.

  “Go!”

  He disappeared into the night sky somewhere over Venezuela.

  Rick pulled down his night vision goggles, lined up with the edge of the door, and waited for his signal. He used the last few seconds to think about Quinn, knowing once he jumped, he would have to focus one hundred percent on the mission. He remembered her full lips, her thick hair, the way her large amber eyes looked up at him as he sank his cock into her. The loud thump thump thump of the rotors beat in the background, almost lulling him into a state of total peace.

  “Go!”

  He pushed off of the doorway and let the free fall wipe his mind clean.

  Chapter 3

  “Quinn! Over here!”

  Quinn no sooner stepped inside Twist, a trendy tapas bar near the gym, than she heard Mara Paxton calling her name. She quickly crossed the restaurant to meet her very excited friend.

  “Hey! You look great!” Mara grinned and gave Quinn a quick hug, making her smile for the first time in a week.

  “You do too, Mar. How’s Clint?”

  Mara’s cat-like green eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, you know. He’s great.”

  Quinn laughed at Mara’s lust filled expression. “You can’t talk about your husband without your mind going straight to his crotch, can you Mara?”

  Mara pursed her lips, pretending to think about it for a minute. “Nope. It’s pretty spectacular.” She lifted her glass and took a big sip of her drink.

  “That looks good, I need one.” Quinn gestured towards Mara’s glass.

  Mara flagged down the waiter and ordered a margarita for Quinn. Once Quinn’s drink was delivered, Mara raised an eyebrow at her friend.

  “So, what’s up girl? What happened between you and Rick? Obviously something went down, because the boy has been messed up ever since you up and pulled a Houdini.” Mara leaned across the table, her eyes fixed on Quinn.

  “Well,” Quinn shifted uncomfortably, “first he uh… he kind of spied on me while I went on that date with the bartender, Chase.”

  Mara frowned. “What do you mean he spied on you?” Her indignation would have been hilarious had Quinn actually been on speaking terms with Rick.

  Quinn huffed loudly. “I mean, he was sitting in his car, watching Chase drop me off after our date. Then he knocked on my door right after Chase left and insisted he wasn’t going to let me go out with other men without letting me know he was interested.”

  Mara’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Rick did that? Our Rick? From Sanctum? He made this big declaration and demanded that you give him a chance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Holy shit.” She fell back in her chair. “That’s just about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” Mara’s face went all gooey and starry-eyed.

  Quinn couldn’t help but melt a little at the memory. “Yeah, I know, it was. So then he kissed me and—”

  “He what?” Mara squealed, bouncing up and down. “And you…?” Quinn squirmed under her intense scrutiny, wincing when Mara pointed and screamed. “Holy crap, you did it with him!”

  “Shhhhh,” Quinn admonished her loud friend, glancing around to be sure no one heard her outburst. “Yes… I did.” Mara’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. “But then I sort of had a major freak out in the middle of the night and left him lying there alone in my bed with no explanation… for six weeks.” Quinn shrank as she confessed to her midnight escape.

  Mara blinked rapidly, finally sitting still, stunned. Then she leaned forward and threw up her hand as if to say stop. “Wait. Rick made this romantic declaration, which by the way, he never does, you have what I assume was unbelievable, mind-blowing sex…” Quinn nodded when Mara paused for her to answer. “He spent the night at your place, which he also never does, and the result is that you skipped out of town on him with no word for six weeks?”

  Quinn could feel her face heating up with the shame of having her actions replayed for her. She dropped her gaze to the table. “Yes.”

  To Quinn’s surprise, Mara started laughing. Snorty, teary, ugly, cackling-type laughing. Quinn’s brow wrinkled as she stared at her friend open-mouthed until Mara could get a hold of herself.

  “Mara! It’s not funny!” Quinn felt like kicking her under the table.

  “No, it really is Quinn,” Mara said, gasping for breath and trying to wipe the tears from her eyes with her napkin. “I mean, it’s not, but it sooo is. If you knew how many times Rick has done that to women. Hell, that’s why he’s called Ricochet. Fuck, it’s just too ironic. The karma of it all.” Mara took a big sip of her drink, tears still running down her face from her hysterics.

  Quinn felt herself gearing up to defend Rick. “No, Mara! It’s not! I left because I’m fucked up! Broken! My ex-husband screwed me up so badly that I don’t trust men. I threw Rick away because I’m a coward!”

  “Ex-husband? You were married?” Mara practically fell off of her chair.

  Quinn couldn’t meet Mara’s probing stare. “Technically, I’m still married— that’s what the lawyer is for,” she mumbled.

  “Quinn!”

  She threw up her hands. “I know, Mara! I know! Okay? I’m a liar and a terrible person! But, if you knew what he did to me—” her words caught in her throat, “how he treated me, you’d understand.” She held in a sob as her voice cracked.

  Mara slid her hand across the table to cover Quinn’s. “So make me understand.”

  Quinn told Mara everything. Things she never confided in anyone except for the therapists at the various women’s shelters— how she left home to get away from her father who was angry at his early retirement, how she met Travis her sophomore year at Texas A&M when he was a campus security guard, how he encouraged her to drop out to marry him and immediately turned into an abusive jerk, moved her to the middle of nowhere and isolated her from everyone and everything she knew. All of it poured out of Quinn as if she were unburdening her soul in confession.

  “Jesus, Quinn. I can’t believe you lived like that for as long as you did.” Mara’s brows pulled together, her normally happy mouth turned down in the corners.

  Quinn’s shoulders slumped, her head hanging, “I’m so embarrassed, Mar. I’m a reasonably intelligent person, I should have seen it, should have known Travis was like that before I married him.”

  Mara’s hand slammed down on the table, rattling the glasses and causing Quinn to startle. “Don’t talk like that! Abusers are very skilled at hiding their true colors, Quinn. My dad was like that, strung my mother along for twenty fucking years before she finally left. He could be very charming when he had to be. Shit, most people in our town would never have believed he was the asshole we knew behind closed doors.”

  Quinn sniffed quietly, trying to hold in the strong emotions and empathy she felt coursing through her. “Thank you, Mara.” She gulped down her drink, letting the liquid courage loosen her enough to ask a question, even though she wasn’t so sure she wanted the answer. “So, while I was gone… Rick, did he?” She paused, fingering her glass, “Did he go out at all? You know, with women?”

  Mara’s eyes saddened for her friend, and that was all the confirmation Quinn needed. Tears built up behind her eyes as she stared at the table, burning almost as much as the hot pain that stabbed directly into her heart. “I—I should have assumed. I mean… I deserve it. It’s not like we were dating or anything.”

  She felt the warmth of her friend’s hand on top of hers, and with a sob, a single tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. Quinn wiped at it angrily with the back of her free hand.

  Mara squeezed her hand, letting her gather herself together
. “I only know that he went out with Dane, not what happened. If you feel anything for him Quinn, you need to do something about it. Don’t let your ex taint your future. He already took so much from you. Trust me, I know what that does to a person. Whether it’s with or without Rick, just do what makes you happy… for yourself. You left that asshole husband of yours, now take your life back.”

  Quinn managed a shaky smile, but still felt as if she let something potentially great slip through her fingers and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to get it back.

  Quinn went to work Monday with a new attitude. She was going to put all of her baggage behind her— Travis, her dad, her fears, and start over as a new person. First order of business, repair her friendship with Rick. She smiled as she entered the break room at Sanctum, grabbing a cup of coffee before heading for her desk.

  “Hey Xander!” Quinn waved to the beautiful Latino man as he went into the conference room.

  “Quinn,” he nodded without making eye contact and went through the door without another word or a smile.

  Quinn frowned at his icy reception, an uneasy feeling churning in her empty stomach. Usually Xander was very friendly and talkative, so his strange behavior rang in her head like an alarm bell.

  Quinn peered into the conference room before the door clicked shut, getting a glimpse of every single one of Mack’s trainers seated around the table with haggard, sleep-deprived expressions on their normally tough exteriors. She didn’t get a good look, but Quinn was almost positive she didn’t see Rick in there. Something about the moment sent a shiver down her spine.

  Shrugging off the strange sense of dread, she went to the lobby to boot up her computer and start her day.

  By the five o’clock, Quinn still hadn’t caught sight of Rick, and the other employees of Sanctum had a decidedly pissy attitude. Quinn actually leapt out of Dane’s way when she saw him storming down the hall with a downright hostile look on his face.

  Dejected and tired, Quinn climbed the stairs to her apartment, drained from an entire day spent worrying about what she would say to Rick when she saw him. It never occurred to Quinn that there was a possibility that she wouldn’t see him at work. The anxiety she felt from having an emotional confrontation hanging over her head was a thousand times worse than just getting it over with.

  Rick didn’t show up on Tuesday, or Wednesday, or even Thursday. By Friday, Quinn was practically crawling out of her skin from a deep-seated anxiety. She spent most of the day at her desk, absently shredding post-it notes into micro-sized pieces while staring at the door.

  “Quinn.”

  Quinn scrambled, her arms flailing as she nearly fell out of her chair.

  “God, Mack.” She grabbed her chest, hoping to calm her racing heart. “You scared me to death.”

  “Sorry kid. You can go home, we’re closing up early today.”

  Quinn studied Mack’s face. The man looked older, the age lines crossing his scarred skin seemed deeper somehow.

  “Mack? Is everything okay? I’ve noticed that it’s been quiet here this week and… and everyone is kind of off.” She wasn’t brave enough to ask specifically about Rick.

  He caught her with his sharp gaze, his dark eyes shining with concern. “Everything’s fine, Quinn. Go on home. I’ll see you Monday.” Mack gave her an unconvincing smile before heading back into the gym.

  This week has been so strange.

  Quinn quietly packed up her things and vowed to speak to Rick on Monday.

  Monday came and went and still no sign of Rick. When Tuesday afternoon rolled around, Quinn had stressed herself out to the point of near-crippling nausea. Knowing she screwed up everything with Rick— that she bailed on him without an explanation— occupied her every waking thought. Not being able to clear the air with him had eaten away at Quinn until she had literally made herself sick.

  By the end of the day, Quinn could hardly sit still. The anxiety was taking over her entire body, leaving her fidgeting and twitching in her chair. Drained from sitting around freaking out for ten days straight, she decided it was time to take action.

  If he won’t come to me…

  Quinn typed quickly, hacking into the employee files on her computer after only fifteen minutes. It should have been easier, but Quinn was surprised at the level of security on Sanctum’s computer system. One quick click later, a single piece of paper shot out of the printer. She snatched it up, thrust it into her purse, and hurried out to the parking lot.

  Quinn started up Mack’s old pickup, the loud rattling of the engine a welcome distraction to the rattling in her brain. She carefully turned the big tank of a truck out onto the main road before she lost her nerve and crawled into bed for the entire weekend. Mack said she could borrow his truck until she bought her own car, something Quinn didn’t want to do until her name change went through. Travis could easily find her through DMV records.

  She laughed, wondering if Mack would have lent her his truck if he knew she didn’t have a driver’s license.

  Traffic was heavy as she maneuvered the big old truck down Peachtree Road towards Midtown. The air-conditioning in it was iffy and a fifteen-minute drive ended up taking over forty-five agonizing minutes. By the time Quinn turned into a public parking garage on 10th Street, she was so sweaty and frustrated that she wanted to beat her fist on the steering wheel and scream at the top of her lungs.

  Breathing deep and focusing on her task, Quinn walked half a block in the late afternoon heat until she was standing in front of a gleaming glass high-rise. She swallowed back the lump in her throat and went inside, silently losing her shit the entire ride up the elevator, trying to convince herself that she was doing what needed to be done.

  When she stepped up to the door to Rick’s condo, Quinn almost bailed out. Tired of avoiding confrontation, of avoiding feeling anything, of sitting in the passenger seat as her life went by, Quinn lifted her hand and knocked.

  Chapter 4

  A gentle knocking woke Rick from his erratic, often restless sleep. He bolted upright without thinking, wincing when a streak of pain lanced through his side like a white-hot poker. The door opened and a booming voice brought him fully awake.

  “Ricochet! Looking good, man!”

  Rick did his best to level an angry glare at the big man coming through the door without cracking a smile. “Don’t patronize me, Paxton. I’ll kick your ass sideways once I’m all healed up. I know I look like shit now, but you know I’m good for it.”

  A loud laugh erupted from Clint, momentarily brightening the depressing, sterile hospital room. “I’m all for a good fight once you’re back on your feet. Hell, I’m all for a good fight whenever.” Clint ran his fingers through his strawberry blonde hair, leaving it slightly messy in the back.

  “What are you carrying?” Rick asked, straining to see the package in Clint’s hands. Again, he tried to sit up, this time gasping in pain before lying back down.

  Clint rushed to his bedside. “Don’t be stupid! You’ll tear the damn stitches.” He snatched up the remote control for the bed, elevating the top so Rick could rest comfortably in a sitting position.

  “Fucking stitches. They itch.” Rick emphasized his point by scratching at the large white bandage on his lower abdomen.

  “This isn’t your first rodeo, Ricochet. Suck it up and deal.” Clint handed Rick a bright pink, reusable cloth grocery bag. “Mara put together this care package for you. She insisted I bring it down here since you said she couldn’t visit.”

  Rick rolled his eyes, but a hint of a smile twisted one corner of his mouth. “Thanks.” He opened the bag, chuckled, and immediately handed it back to Clint, wincing in pain. “Pax, you gotta put this over there.” Rick grimaced, motioning to the long bench under the window. “I can’t look at this right now. That tiger of yours is a fucking riot, man, and if I laugh, my side hurts like a son of a bitch. I already saw the copies of Combat Tactics and Guns & Ammo she put in there. You know damn well there’s more shit in that bag
that will crack me up and I’m way too sore to laugh right now.”

  Clint grinned, putting the bag by the window. “She’s definitely got a sense of humor a mile wide.”

  “Yeah, she does.” Rick said, his face falling.

  So does Quinn. She’s funny, and gorgeous, and charming… and she left your ass, stupid.

  The large man grabbed a nearby chair, its blue fake leather peeling off the seat, and dragged it over to the bed. He flopped down onto it, the wood frame creaking in protest. “Rick, I’m not a fucking touchy-feely guy. Neither are you. Fuck, none of us at the gym are, right?” Rick nodded, his expression cautious. “I know you can’t tell Quinn what happened in the field, but man… she’s looking pretty torn up about you being missing from work.”

  Rick stiffened on the bed, suddenly defensive. “What’s your point, Pax?” He really did not feel like discussing Quinn with anyone, let alone a coworker and husband of Quinn’s best friend.

  Clint huffed, his impatience with his deliberately obtuse friend showing. “My point is… Mara and Quinn have become close. She’s been to the house a few times. I’ve seen her every day at work. She’s a fucking wreck, dude. Maybe you should let Mara bring her down here—”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Rick shook his head in protest. “Anyway, they’re releasing me tomorrow so there’s no point.”

  Clint made a dismissive sound and stood up to leave. “There’s always a point, Ricochet. Maybe this one will hit its mark, stick this time. You won’t have to keep skipping from girl to girl. Ever think about that?”

  Rick didn’t answer his friend. Instead he stared out at the trees in the courtyard outside his window. He spent every day and night thinking about Quinn, he certainly didn’t want to discuss her with Clint. Besides, Quinn’s actions spoke loud and clear— she wasn’t interested.

  “My wife’s a stubborn woman, Rick. You’d do well to remember that.” Clint opened the door. “I’ll see you later.”