Ricochet (Locked & Loaded #1) (6 page)

The corner of Rick’s mouth curved up when he saw Quinn’s cheeks turn pink with an adorable blush at being caught gawking. He padded towards her, his movements nearly silent as his bare feet glided over the mats that lined the room.

Quinn’s amber eyes widened as he approached, discomfort clearly written all over her beautiful features. Rick desperately wanted to press those soft curves up against the wall and taste those red lips, especially after seeing the raw hunger in her eyes as she checked out his body. But after getting the skittish girl to somewhat trust him on Saturday, he didn’t want to ruin his progress by pawing all over her.

“Hello, doll.”

“Rick,” she breathed, then cleared her throat and looked at the floor.

After her bizarre reaction last Saturday, Rick made sure to leave a few feet of space between Quinn and himself when he stopped in front of her. She visibly unwound at his non-threatening approach, the tiny lines on her forehead smoothed out and her downturned mouth curved into a small smile.

That smile combined with Quinn’s bright amber eyes when they flicked back up his body, sent a jolt of desire straight to Rick’s cock. He had been unable to stop thinking about her all weekend, and now with all of that blatant desire being aimed directly at him, it was becoming uncomfortably tight in his jock. Better the cup than poking her eye out, he supposed. Rick decided light conversation was the way to go to divert his pressing need and to make her stop her leering. A man could only hold back just so long when a woman eye-fucked him like that.

“You like watching MMA?”

He watched, stunned as she completely closed down right before his eyes. Quinn stiffened up, her body becoming rigid and tense. Her sparkling caramel irises went flat. “No. I don’t like fighting. I-I have to get to my desk.” She spun on her heel and was gone before Rick could blink.

What in the fuck just happened?

Pissed that he somehow unraveled the progress he made with the nervous Quinn, Rick stormed off to the showers. Still half-hard from her blatant appreciation of his body, he stripped off his shorts and jock, climbing under the spray before the water even had a chance to warm up.

It was cold, but he didn’t care. He really needed to get Quinn out of his head. Rick didn’t want the trouble or the aggravation of a relationship.

Relationship? I must be losing my mind.

Meeting the girl once, bumping into her a few times, and taking her to the store hardly qualified as anything resembling a relationship. Besides, Rick was never the relationship type, and never would be. He wouldn’t even know how to have a relationship, which he definitely didn’t want so it didn’t matter either way. His cock was the one that was interested in Quinn, all wavy brown hair and long legs leading up to a pert ass.

But damn, the way her eyes burned into him out in the gym had made him even harder, his dick now physically aching for relief. Quinn’s dilated pupils and the gorgeous blush that spread up her neck gave away the fact that she had, at the very least, a carnal interest in him. The thought made his cock twitch again.

Shit.

Frustrated, Rick stared down angrily at his traitorous dick, standing tall and erect from his body. He cursed himself for letting Quinn get to him so quickly. His long fingers curled around the hard, smooth shaft, sending shivers down his spine.

Fuck. I can’t believe I’m doing this at work.

Knowing he was alone in the showers, Rick reached a hand down to stroke his cock. He got to work right away, alternating between quick pulls of his shaft and swiping his wide thumb over the sensitive head. The now hot water rained down on his slick skin, steaming up the small space quickly. Within minutes, he felt a steady pressure building in his groin, his balls becoming heavy and sensitive. Visions of lush lips and amber eyes flashed behind his closed eyelids.

Rick dropped his head back, his mouth parted as his breath began to speed up. He pulled harder on his sensitive shaft, his breathing growing heavier and his body more desperate with each stroke.

Pleasure rocketed through him, causing his fatigued legs to begin to shake. He had to reach out and slap his free hand against the wet tile to keep from collapsing on the shower floor. Rick grit his teeth, picturing the way Quinn’s face looked while looking at his nearly naked body, her eyes hooded and filled with lust. That image pushed Rick right over the edge. With one final thrust of his hips, he shoved his cock through his tight fist and spiraled into an explosive orgasm with a stifled groan. Streams of white jetted out powerfully as he came, hitting the floor before swirling down the drain.

Jesus.

Rick took a minute to let his pulse steady. He was spent. First from the intense work out with the heavy bag and then from jerking off to images of Quinn. Now that he had released the pent-up tension, Rick was thoroughly disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t want the beautiful brunette. Mack made it clear he
couldn’t
have her. It was obvious that Quinn had been though something traumatic, and fixing broken people wasn’t Rick’s expertise. But for some inexplicable reason, Rick was drawn to Quinn. He wanted her to trust him enough to confess all of her secrets, and he knew she damn well had them. He wanted to know what she was so afraid of so he could protect her from it.

With an annoyed huff, Rick quickly dressed, throwing his dirty clothes into his bag.

“Hey Rick!”

Rick became instantly alert at the worried tone of his coworker’s voice, the Recon Marine in him shifting into operational mode. “Tucker?”

“I need your help. Mack has me working on the Alvarez op. Can you back me up for a few? I could use your advice since you’ve been to the area before and know the layout of the terrain. Pax is in a tight spot.”

Rick ran a hand over his damp hair. “Sure big man, no problem.”

He followed Tucker out of the locker room and down the hall to Mission Command. Tucker swiped his badge and punched in his code to open the secure door.

The smaller man took his seat behind a massive wall of computer screens, each one depicting different information. Three screens were monitoring the perimeter cameras outside the gym. One displayed the view from a government satellite set to monitor South America, specifically a well-known Columbian drug lord’s estate and base of operations. The other screens showed various other images, including one from a small camera strapped to the helmet of Clint Paxton, former-CIA operative and resident kickboxing champ.

Tucker slipped on a headset and threw a similar one at Rick. “Paxton, I’ve got Ricochet here.”

“Pax, what’ve you got?” Rick never used his snarky nicknames on the job, only the ones that the men used in their official capacity. He studied the sat map while the mercenary filled him in.

“Mission completed, on my way back to the helo for extraction. The bridge that’s supposed to be over the river is gone. You’re familiar with this god-forsaken jungle, Rick. Where can I cross this thing?”

“Okay Pax, hang tight. Give me a minute to check your coordinates.”

Rick swiped the topographical map that had been pulled up on a secure touchscreen computer on Tucker’s desk, scrolling so he could see the entire area at once. Tucker read off Pax’s coordinates for him.

“I found your position, Pax.” Rick traced a finger further down the river on the map. “Tucker, where’s the pick up site?”

The wiry man leaned into Rick’s side so he could point at the spot, a small clearing just north of where Clint was waiting.

“Pax, there’s a small rope bridge two klicks west of your position. Head there and you can cross.” Rick showed Tucker the exact location so he could put the coordinates into the nav system that would guide the field operative to the bridge.

“You sure about that bridge Rick? Cuz I gotta tell you, there ain’t shit out here in this sweaty, malaria-filled hellhole.” Rick could hear the man’s steady breathing as he cut his way through the dense jungle.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I helped build it.”

“Well… Okay then. We’re on our way.”

“I’m tracking you and Xavier, Pax,” Tucker said. “No hostiles in sight.”

“Gotcha Tucker. Going silent. We’ll radio if we need you. Just make sure the helo is where it’s supposed to be.”

“Not a problem, helo to arrive at ten hundred hours. That gives you sixteen minutes to rendezvous,” Tucker explained. He flipped a switch and the loud noise of helicopter rotors filled their headsets. “Eagle One, be on the ground at pre-designated location at ten hundred hours.”

“Roger, Mission Command.” The pilot’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Rick and Tucker held their breath as they watched Clint’s camera jostle and bounce through the thick Columbian jungle.

“There!” Rick said, pointing at the screen. “That’s the rope bridge. Shit, I’m glad it’s still intact.”

Tucker turned to Rick, his face a mask of incredulity. “You weren’t sure if it was still there?”

Rick shrugged. “It’s been a few years. It
is
rope you know. Not exactly long lasting material.”

“Jesus, you’re such an asshole,” Tucker huffed.

“I’m over the bridge. Xav is behind me,” Pax said. “I can hear the helo approaching. By the way Ricochet, when I get back I’m going to kick the shit outta you. Rope bridge my ass! What bullshit. That thing was fucking falling apart. We’re lucky we didn’t fall into the fucking river.”

“Be good, Pax. See ya next week.”

“Deuces.” The communication clicked off.

Rick grinned as he pulled off the headset and dropped it onto the desk. “Another successful mission.”

Tucker gaped at him. “You better hope he’s not in Mission Control on your next op. He’ll send your ass over a cliff or some shit just to get revenge.”

“Nah, he loves me.” Rick’s laugh could be heard all the way down the hall, even once the thick security door closed behind him.

Rick strode into the break room to get some coffee, his smile fading as he once again thought about Quinn’s bizarre reaction in the gym. He was in the middle of pouring himself a mugful from a fresh pot when Dane’s loud voice surprised him.

“Ricochet! How’s it going man?”

Rick jerked, spilling hot coffee all over his hand. “Fuck! You asshole!”

Dane laughed, walking around Rick to grab a chair, turning it around to straddle it backwards. “You’re supposed to be aware of your surroundings at all times, Marine. It’s on you if you were daydreaming, not me.”

After cleaning up the spill, Rick turned around to face his friend, who was grinning. “I want to punch that smile right off your face, killer.” Rick smirked as he sipped his drink, praying the caffeine would help him focus on work instead of a certain brunette.

“So, you go out last night?”

Rick rolled his eyes. They frequently played wingman for each other and when they did, they both got laid pretty much every time. Of course he picked today to ask about sex.

“Yes.”

“So? Did you score?” Dane waggled his eyebrows at Rick.

“If you’re so interested in my sex life, why didn’t you just come with me?”

Dane threw his head back and laughed. “I told you I had to be here at six to train Sloane. That kid is going to win a belt someday. He’s a beast. Besides, I’ve helped you score with more girls than you could possibly count. Now stop stalling and let me live vicariously.”

Rich grunted. “
I
helped
you
score you mean, and as a matter of fact I did get laid last night. Are you happy?” Rick’s gaze dropped to his coffee. He couldn’t watch his friend’s face light up with delight when the thought of last night made Rick sick to his stomach. Him and Dane always traded stories of their conquests, it was their thing. This morning, however, Rick just wasn’t in the mood.

“Niiiice. Let me guess, you vanished before the smell of sex had even cleared the room.”

“Fuck you, Nolan.” Rick was starting to get angry at his friend’s line of questioning. It was bad enough that he went back to the bar last night and pictured Quinn the entire time some random girl sucked his dick in the back room. It made him feel like some kind of sick weirdo, like he defiled Quinn or something. But he needed the release. Staying away from Quinn was killing him. He didn’t feel like rehashing how unsatisfying the experience was for Dane’s mid-morning entertainment.

The big man stood up, staring at Rick through narrowed eyes. “What’s your problem?”

Refusing to answer, Rick kept his eyes on his drink, willing the man to let it drop and leave him alone with his misplaced sense of guilt. Dane must have gotten the hint, because seconds later he heard the door open. Rick sighed and saw that he was alone. He was thankful to get at least one thing he wanted this morning.

Chapter 6

QUINN RAN FOR the front desk, hoping that Dane wouldn’t catch her eavesdropping on his conversation with Rick. She hadn’t meant to listen in. She was only going to grab a bottle of water from the break room when she heard the two men talking about Rick’s conquests as she stood in the hall, frozen in place.

She blinked back tears as she sat in the chair behind her desk, not quite understanding why they were there. Rick wasn’t her boyfriend, heck, he wasn’t really even her friend. What did it matter who he screwed on his own free time?

Because, you thought you felt something special with him, that because he brought you shopping it somehow meant he cared.

Clearly, Quinn was an idiot, because her brain kept telling her over and over again that Rick wasn’t good for her. But the kind, thoughtful man she got a glimpse of last weekend had her heart believing there could be more to him than just a good-looking, conceited ass.

Guess not.

The phone rang and Quinn welcomed work today. Anything that would keep her from thinking about Rick and whatever girl he took home last night would be a welcome distraction.

Quinn wished for a distraction and several hours later she was upset that it had been granted. She wasn’t sure what to do first. Answer the very shrill, very persistent phone, help the intimidating fighter that was standing in front of her desk, or use the bathroom, which she hadn’t done since she got to work and she was two bottled waters and a cup of coffee into the day.