Ricochet (Locked & Loaded #1) (10 page)

Quinn groaned under her breath at the thought of Rick turning those charms on her. Blood started flowing to areas of her body that she had forgotten existed a long time ago. Molten heat pooled between her legs, making her uncomfortable and horny as hell.

“Here.” Quinn took a sharp right turn, ducking into the nearest women’s clothing store so Rick wouldn’t notice the blush spreading up her neck and into her face or her rapid, shallow breathing.

She heard muffled swearing behind her.

“Jesus, Quinn. Give me a head’s up. I nearly took out a family and tripped over a stroller.”

“Sorry,” Quinn snapped rudely, frustrated by the sudden, untimely awakening of her hormones.

“You really want to shop here?”

“Why, is it not good enough for you?”

“No doll, this is a plus sized store.”

Quinn lifted her head and finally looked around. “Oops.”

That’s it. I’m losing my mind.

RICK STARED AT Quinn incredulously as she stumbled nervously through the mall. He’d noticed her hands shaking earlier after he stupidly grabbed her on the sidewalk. Her over the top reaction had abuse victim written all over it, just like that day in her apartment when he got too close.

Now, watching her dart into a plus sized store to buy a dress for her very petite figure, he knew she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be left alone.

“This isn’t the store I wanted to go into.” She sounded on the verge of tears.

“Yeah, I figured,” Rick answered lightly, trying to lift the dark cloud that had settled between them. “Why don’t we try Bloomingdales?” He stepped back so she could pass him without touching. No way did he want a repeat of her earlier meltdown on the street.

Quinn wandered out into the mall atrium, helplessly lost.

“This way, doll.” He kept his voice gentle, when all he wanted to do was bundle her up in his arms, drive her home, and hold her until she felt safe and secure.

This fucking sucks.

The one thing he wanted to do more than anything was touch her, and it was the one thing that freaked Quinn out the most.

Rick led Quinn into Bloomingdale’s, directly to the women’s dress department. “Do you want me to wait somewhere else?” he asked, praying she said no. He really didn’t want to leave her by herself.

Quinn didn’t respond. Just a flick of her eyes to his let him know that she heard his question. Since she didn’t answer, he figured he could do as he pleased. Rick casually followed her through the racks, watching her gently caress each dress that interested her. He smiled when he noticed a tiny crinkle form between her eyes each time she looked at a price tag that she didn’t like.

Quinn spent a long time staring at a short, lavender dress. Rick knew she would be stunning in it. In the end, she frowned and put it back on the rack.

After selecting three dresses, Quinn headed for the fitting room. Rick trailed behind, folding his tall frame onto a low, overstuffed chair near the door. “I’ll wait here. Just yell if you need me.”

Quinn disappeared behind a louvered door for several minutes before coming out.

Sweet baby Jesus.

Rick’s jaw dropped at the sight in front of him. It was Quinn, but somehow… not. The pale blue sheath she was wearing hugged every single one of her curves perfectly. Her fair skin was glowing, a healthy pink staining her high cheekbones. The dark fall of wavy hair down her back contrasted perfectly with the fabric.

“Wow. You look —”

“Ridiculous?” Quinn stood in front of the tri-fold mirror, biting her lip anxiously.

Drawn to Quinn like a magnet, Rick’s eyes found hers in the reflection as he came up behind her. “I was going to say stunning, but I’m not sure it would do you justice.”

He struggled to keep his hands to himself, to resist the urge to slide his fingers down the soft skin of her arms and watch her shiver from his touch, to lift that thick hair and put it over her shoulder so he could kiss her slender neck. He wanted it so much that it physically hurt to hold back when what he craved was within reach.

Instead, Rick balled his hands up into fists, grinding his teeth together so hard he was surprised Quinn couldn’t hear it.

“I’ll try another one.”

“Okay.”

Rick backed up so Quinn could slip past him. Once she was behind the closed door, he palmed his now-hard dick, willing it to go down before Quinn finished in the changing room. Ten long minutes spent thinking about the time a fellow Marine got a compound fracture of his tibia during jump school and Rick’s cock was back under control.

Quinn emerged from the dressing room with the pale blue sheath dress over her arm. “I like this one.”

Rick stood as she approached. “Me too.”

He saw Quinn’s eyes widen slightly and realized he was probably staring at her like a lovesick puppy.

Fuck me. I’m such an ass.

“Are you ready to pay for that so we can get out of here?” Rick barked.

Quinn flinched at his hostile tone. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He didn’t really care that he was being a dickhead. Well, he did, he just didn’t want to admit to himself that he was falling for this girl. He didn’t want her to see it, didn’t want to think about it, let alone discuss it with her. It was much easier to push her away by being a massive asshat.

The ride back to Sanctum was quiet, neither one of them having much to say. After Quinn’s freak out and Rick’s cold shoulder, it wasn’t surprising that things were awkward between them.

He pulled the car around the back of the building, turning it off so he could walk Quinn to her door.

“Don’t get out,” Quinn snapped, holding a hand up to stop him. “I can do it myself. Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you later.” Before he could say anything or explain his shitty behavior, she grabbed her dress and bolted up the back staircase, disappearing into her apartment.

Rick punched the steering wheel, pissed at his inability to act like a normal fucking human with normal fucking emotions. Years of purposely distancing himself from people other than his teammates wouldn’t be an easy thing to overcome. Hell, he hadn’t wanted to overcome it. Rick had been perfectly happy on his own, only spending time with women for stress relief.

Until now.

Chapter 9

QUINN GLANCED AT the clock… two hours until her date. She should have cancelled it. She wanted to cancel it. But when she was truly honest with herself, Quinn knew she had to go through with it in order to move on.

It had been over a year since she left Travis, and Annette Hardy, behind. She had spent months in different women’s shelters as she made her way from Texas to Georgia. Every counselor she met with along the way told her the same thing. She would always carry the mental, and physical scars of the abuse she suffered, but only time would heal the gaping wounds enough to carry on with her life. Uncurling her fingers, she stared at the three-inch, jagged pink scar on her palm, a constant reminder of how she finally was able to get away from her husband.

Fidgety and anxious, Quinn took a long, hot shower to loosen her tense muscles. She dried off and meticulously began to straighten her long wavy hair, one small section at a time. Fifteen minutes later, when she turned off the hair dryer, Quinn could hear someone loudly and persistently banging on her front door.

Ice ran through her veins, sending chills down the back of her neck. That gut reaction came rushing in like an out of control freight train.

Travis. He found me.

Quinn put down the hair dryer, moving silently from the bedroom to the kitchen. With a shaky hand, she pulled a large knife from the butcher block and tiptoed to the door.

The banging started up again and Quinn had to bite back a scream. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought it might fly out of her chest and take off.

“Quinn! Dammit. I’m freaking out! Are you hurt in there?”

She nearly cried with relief when she heard Rick’s voice from the other side of the door. Shaking, Quinn unhooked the chain and slipped the deadbolt. She no sooner had the door open and Rick was pushing inside, searching the room like a predator flushing out its prey.

When Rick decided the room was empty and finally turned to face Quinn, she saw his eyes go straight to her hand. Trembling all over, she looked down to she was still clutching the seven-inch chef’s knife, her knuckles white from the tight grip she had on the weapon. Calmly, without showing any hint of fear or hesitation, Rick walked over to Quinn and gently pried her fingers off of the knife. He brought it to the kitchen, placing it gently on the counter top.

The relief Quinn had initially felt at Rick’s appearance quickly evolved into anger.

“What the hell, Rick! You scared the crap out of me! Why the heck are you beating down my door?”

Instead of apologizing, Rick stepped up, toe-to-toe, and threw her fury right back at her. “I was knocking for ten fucking minutes, Quinn! I thought you were hurt in here or worse! Christ, you took five years off my life.” She saw his hand twitch as he rubbed it down his face, but any softening in her attitude from seeing that he was truly concerned was overtaken by the adrenaline pulsing through her veins.

“I was in the shower, jerk! Then I was drying my hair. Why the heck would you think I was hurt?”

Rick’s rage disintegrated before her eyes. His demeanor went from furious to neutral in the span of two seconds. “I thought you may have fallen or something.” Rick’s tone was calm, collected.

It was total bullshit and she knew it. His shaking hand proved that he cared. That he was worried… about her.

Quinn gaped. Rick was clearly lying, but why? Why wouldn’t he admit it? They were friends and friends cared about each other.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wasn’t home?”

Rick scoffed. “No.”

That was it, that one arrogant word. Now Quinn was royally pissed. “Oh, I see. You think I’m just sitting around here all day waiting on you to swoop in and save me? Well screw you,
Ricochet
!”

Quinn stabbed her finger into Rick’s chest as his eyes widened. She knew she was playing with fire. She just didn’t care anymore. He was being a conceited ass and she didn’t deserve it. “For your information, I have a date in an hour. I’m not a lonely old spinster. So if you don’t mind, now that you’ve barged in and can see that I’m perfectly fine you can get the hell out!”

Quinn reached behind her and opened the door, tired of being bossed around and manhandled by men. Where was Rick two years ago when Travis was beating her on a daily basis? Where was his concern then?

“A date?” Rick gawked at her.

“Yes,” she folded her arms over her chest, “I know it’s shocking to you that pathetic little Quinn is getting a life, but you’ll get over it.”

Rick’s face fell. The shock and anger diffused, leaving him looking crushed. He wouldn’t make eye contact with Quinn as he walked past her and out the door. Without another word, Rick was gone. If Quinn didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn he looked… hurt.

I can’t believe it. ‘Ricochet’ Rick might actually care.

A MOTHER FUCKING date!

Rick felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. He wanted to fight, and he wanted it bad. To go inside the gym, find a sparring partner, and feel his knuckles burn, feel the power in his body as he lunged and punched another person.

Fighting and fucking, those were Rick’s two favorite forms of stress relief. Of course, now that Quinn and her hot little ass were occupying his every thought, fucking was completely off the table. Rick knew there was no way he would find any woman interesting enough or gorgeous enough to hook up with since meeting Quinn. Hell, with his one and only hook up since they met, he couldn’t even get it up without picturing her.

Rick couldn’t fight tonight either. Because then he wouldn’t be able to make sure Quinn was safe on her
date
. Instead, he took his frustration and used it for surveillance.

Aggravated and restless by the constant deluge of foreign feelings— things like affection and love— Rick patiently watched Quinn’s apartment from his car. He parked next door at a tiny bagel shop run by a nice couple from Long Island. That way Quinn, or anyone from the gym, wouldn’t spot him acting like a total psycho.

Relationships might not be something Rick understood, but surveillance… that he could do in his sleep, no matter how pissed off he was. At exactly eighteen hundred hours, he observed a late model SUV as it pulled into the lot and around the back of the gym.

Fucking douche is right on time. I hate him.

 A tall, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties got out of the car, bounding happily up the stairs to Quinn’s door. Rick gripped the steering wheel hard enough to feel pressure in his knuckles. The door opened and the man disappeared inside.

Fucker’s good looking too, bastard.

It took all of Rick’s training to rein in his swirling, intense emotions. Staying calm under pressure was easy when you weren’t emotionally involved. But this shit? Watching Quinn go on a date with another man? It was fucking torture, even for Rick with his years of Force Recon experience.

Less than five minutes later, the man emerged with Quinn. Rick’s mouth fell open and he nearly jumped out of the car to confront them when he saw her wearing
the dress
and a pair of fuck-me heels. The blue dress that he helped her shop for at the friggin mall. The one that made her look like a walking wet dream. It was for her date with this loser?

Fuming, Rick watched as the fuckwit helped Quinn into his SUV, catching him stare at her ass as she climbed in. He waited until they pulled out into traffic before following them out of the parking lot, turning towards downtown Atlanta.

Two hours later, Rick decided that Quinn’s date was a very boring man that Rick wanted to knock out cold. Drinks, dinner, drive back to her apartment… not exactly inventive. Not that Rick could talk about sweeping women off their feet. His idea of a date was a quick fuck and an even quicker exit, preferably without speaking or exchanging names.