Ricochet (Locked & Loaded #1) (9 page)

Get yourself together, Brennan.

He strode into the lobby projecting a confidence he didn’t feel. One glance at the front desk and his heart felt as if it stuttered to a stop.

“Tucker? What the fuck are you doing up here? Where’s Quinn? Is she sick?”

The wiry man pushed his glasses up on his nose, glancing at Rick from behind his computer screen. “In back.” He stabbed his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the main gym. “I’m just watching the door for her while she trains.”

“Trains?” Rick growled. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Tucker sat up straight and crossed his arms, giving Rick his full attention, something the socially challenged man almost never did. “What’s it to you, Ricochet?”

Rick scowled at Tucker’s use of his nickname, knowing that the man was baiting him. Tucker might look small and geeky and love computers, but he was a fifth degree black belt in Shotokan karate. He had held his own in a spur of the moment karate match with UFC welterweight champion George St. Pierre.

“Nothing. Forget it.” Rick huffed, storming past the front desk and the smirking Tucker. He swiped his badge, irritated at himself for letting Tucker get under his skin. Hell, he was irritated at himself for letting Quinn get under his skin. Rick was even too pissed to call the small guy “big man” like he usually did.

Twenty-eight fucking years without a single person to worry about except myself. Less than a month after Quinn walks through the front door and I barely recognize the guy in the mirror or the thoughts in my own head anymore.

Rick marched into the training area in a cloud of anger.

Fucking Tucker, messing my head all up.

When he reached the edge of the mat covered floor, his world stopped spinning and came to a screeching halt. He blinked, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him. Nope. It wasn’t. Across the gym, standing in front of the heavy bag wearing a tank top and those damn miniature shorts, was Quinn. She was barefoot, punching and kicking the bag with a jab-front kick combo.

Quinn all sweaty, wearing next to nothing, was a sight to see. But what made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, what Rick immediately zeroed in on, was Xavier’s fucking hands on Quinn’s hips, touching what belonged to Rick.

Belong to me? Quinn doesn’t belong to me.

Rick shook the thoughts from his head, squeezing his eyes shut until the angry red haze cleared. When he opened them back up, he saw Xavier and Quinn staring at him, their lesson interrupted by his odd behavior.

“Hey man.” Xavier held up a wrapped hand in greeting. “Good to have you back.”

Rick’s furious scowl surprised his friend, causing Xavier’s dark eyes to narrow suspiciously. Rick flicked his gaze over to Quinn. She stood next to Xav, unmoving, her face blank as she waited for her lesson to continue. It made Rick feel as if he were a mere annoyance.

Already pissed and now embarrassed on top of it, Rick spun on his heel and stomped down the hall. He swiped his badge and punched in his code, opening the door to an empty Mission Control. Rick paced the room, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. He wanted to tear the room apart, but knew he’d face everyone’s wrath if he destroyed the expensive equipment.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

These unfamiliar feelings were messing with his head. Rick couldn’t define them, couldn’t explain them, and had absolutely no idea how to deal with them. The only way he knew how to release frustration was fucking or fighting. Right now, he was way to volatile to fuck.

Fighting it is then.

Decision made, he threw open the door and made his way towards the locker room.

“Ricochet!”

Rick stopped in the hall, letting his head fall back until he was staring up at the acoustical tile ceiling.

“Get your ass in here.”

Shit
.

He turned around and skulked into Mack’s office.

“Close the door and take a seat.” Mack pointed to one of the well-worn chairs in front of his desk.

Rick scowled, but did as he was asked, sliding into the seat cautiously. He knew he was about to get his ass handed to him. What he didn’t know was why.

“Chief.” Rick nodded at Mack who was studying him thoughtfully.

“I see you got back from the Middle East okay.”

Rick’s tense frame relaxed. Maybe he wasn’t here to get chewed out.

“Yes sir. Arrived yesterday.”

“Ready for your debriefing later?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now, I want to talk about Quinn.”

Rick stiffened in his chair, his ingrained training kicking in as he began to feel cornered. Every muscle was suddenly at attention, ready to respond at a moment’s notice to the interrogation.

Crap
. He cleared his throat. “Quinn, sir?”

Mack glared, his stern expression letting Rick know that he saw right through his bullshit.

“Quit the sir shit, Rick. Yes, Quinn. You fucking her?”

All of the blood drained from Rick’s face. Then his skin heated up as it rushed back in. All of the times in his life that Mack had yelled at him, humiliated him, made him feel pain like he’d never felt before, he never wanted to hit the man. Today was the closest he’d ever come to seriously thinking about it. “No, I’m not. Not that it’s any of your business… chief.”

Mack leaned over the desk, his face so close that Rick could see every line, every battle scar, and every distinct feature that was earned over the course of twenty years of serving his country.

“Get this straight, Ricochet. Quinn is family.
My
family. Don’t even think about treating her like you do all your other whores. You want her, you better mean it and make it stick, or you’ll be dealing with me. Are we clear?”

Rick’s eyes went wide as his boss read him the riot act. He was used to having Mack up in his space, yelling. That’s what boot camp was— sixty days of being reamed up and down by your commanding officer. This was a different Mack than Rick was used to. This Mack wasn’t trying to whip a corpsman into shape for Recon. No, he was protecting someone he cared about. Rick knew he wouldn’t cross Mack, but then he didn’t think he could stay away from Quinn either.

“I think…” Rick struggled to come up with words that could define his scattered thoughts. He huffed out an exasperated breath, uncomfortable discussing this with anyone, let alone his boss. “I think I might actually like her, Mack.”

Rick dropped his head into his hands to hide his embarrassment. He rubbed his face tiredly.

Who the fuck talks feelings with their C.O.?

Mack lowered himself back into his chair, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Are you shitting me, Rick? Because if you are—”

“No. I’m not.”

“Well holy shit.” Mack’s angry scowl morphed into a knowing smirk. “Ricochet’s gone and found himself some real feelings. And here I didn’t think you had any.”

“Fuck you.” Rick glared at Mack from between his fingers.

“Is that any way to speak to your boss?”

“It is when he’s giving me shit about my personal life.”

Mack grunted his assent. “Don’t fuck it up, Rick. That’s all I’m going to say. She deserves respect.”

Rick stood up. “Can I go now? Or are we gonna sit here all day and have heart to hearts and braid each other’s hair?”

With a deep chuckle, Mack waved a hand, dismissing Rick. “Hey,” he said as Rick’s hand touched the doorknob, “debriefing in the conference room at fourteen hundred hours.”

Rick’s shoulders sagged. “I know.”

God I hate those fucking debriefings. I think I’d rather talk feelings.

Chapter 8

QUINN FLOPPED DOWN onto her couch, completely drained. She had no idea what happened on Rick’s trip to make him such an angry grouch, but it took all of her energy to deal with him since he returned three days ago. He’d been rude, grumpy, and easily provoked. Now that it was Friday, Quinn felt relieved to be done with work, a relaxing weekend ahead of her.

She got up and went to her closet, figuring that deciding what to wear for her date tomorrow would keep her from obsessing over Rick’s strange behavior. Quinn flicked through her meager belongings. It took about three seconds for her to realize that she had nothing to wear.

“Crud.”

Quinn stuffed some money in her pocket and headed outside. She could walk to the mall in the same amount of time she would wait for the next bus. At least it was payday and Mack was still paying her in cash. With almost no expenses, she figured she could splurge on a new dress.

Quinn was only a few yards down the sidewalk when someone called out her name. Well, not her name, but close enough.

“Doll! What in the hell are you doing?”

Oh no.

She knew that voice. It took all of her concentration to keep her eyes forward, even when the car pulled up to the curb next to her.

“Hey! Quinn, stop!”

Cursing under her breath, Quinn stopped. In her peripheral vision, she saw Rick leap out of his car and head directly for her.

“Why are you walking, doll?”

Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose, struggling to hold in her rapidly deteriorating self-control. He’d been an ass since he got back and now he thought he had the right to question her?

“Because Rick, some of us don’t own cars.” She continued walking down the sidewalk, more determined than ever to buy that damn dress for the damn date she didn’t even want to go on anymore.

“Wait!” Rick put his hand on Quinn’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

She whirled around faster than Rick expected, yanking her arm out of his grasp, her entire body tensing up.

“Don’t ever fucking grab me again!”

She watched as Rick flinched back in shock. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just…” He hung his head dejectedly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was going to offer you a ride. This isn’t the best neighborhood, that’s all. I didn’t mean to —”

“I know.” Quinn tried to calm down, but panic streaked down her spine, sending adrenaline racing through her veins. She stuffed her hands in her pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking from her instinctual reaction to Rick grabbing her. Quinn stared at the ground before returning her gaze to his flushed face. Clearly, she hadn’t made much progress since leaving Travis. She was still a nervous wreck around men.

Rick broke the silence first. “I’m really sorry. I know you’ve been mad at me or something, so whatever I did to make you angry, I apologize.”

Quinn gaped at Rick. “You didn’t make me mad.”

He shrugged. “I did something. You won’t look at me or talk to me since I got back.”

She glanced down the street, desperate to continue on her way, to forget about “Ricochet” and his harem of skanks. Quinn couldn’t bring herself to move, to distance herself from this man. A man who was no good for her fragile mental state. A man who had endless strings of one-night stands and never had a lasting relationship. A man who went out of his way to make her feel comfortable, to make sure she had food and a safe way to get it. A man who pushed every single one of her hot buttons, making her a hormonal mess whenever he was near.

“Alright.”

Rick’s eyes widened. “Alright what?”

“Alright you can give me a ride to the mall.”

Quinn didn’t miss the slight quirk in the corner of Rick’s lips or the wince he made. “The mall?”

She huffed, her hands on her hips. “Yes,
the mall
. I can walk if it’s too emasculating for you to set foot in the mall, Rick.”

He laughed at her petulance and opened the passenger side door. “Get in, doll. I guess we’re going to the mall.”

Quinn dropped into the seat, clicking her seat belt in place. She stifled a chuckle when Rick rolled his eyes at the word mall, acting like he was so put out to have to go there. “You can just drop me off out front,” Quinn said as they pulled into the massive parking lot at Lenox Square less than five minutes later.

Rick dismissed her idea immediately. “No. This mall isn’t known for being real safe, Quinn. And it’ll be dark in less than an hour so you’re not walking home. I’ll come in with you.” Rick brought the car to a stop in front of the valet parking sign.

Quinn shook her head, but didn’t bother arguing with Rick. He would do what he wanted no matter what she said. Before the young valet could open her door, she hopped out of the car and hurried inside, leaving Rick scrambling to trade his keys for a ticket in order to catch up.

If Quinn were being honest with herself, this whole situation was beyond strange. Rick “Ricochet” Brennan, man-whore and Muay Thai expert, was taking her to the mall to buy a dress for a date with another man. Okay, so Rick didn’t exactly know that’s what he was doing. Would he have volunteered to drive her if he did? What would he say if he knew she would rather be going out with him tonight?

Quinn thought he would driver her even if he knew it was for a date, though he wouldn’t like it one bit. Rick honestly seemed to want to make sure Quinn stayed safe, something she hadn’t been the last few years with Travis and then for a year on her own after she left him.

“Can you slow down?”

“Sorry,” Quinn paced her steps, not realizing how fast she was walking. She was feeling guilty for letting Rick come shopping with her. Suddenly, it didn’t feel right to have him help out for her date with Chase. Guilt warred inside her, right alongside lust and fear.

“Where to first?” Rick asked.

She saw Rick scanning the mall, looking carefully up and around at all of the different stores. Quinn noticed he did that a lot, took in his surroundings. The first time he was at her apartment he did that and it made her feel violated. Now she knew that Rick was just an exceptionally perceptive individual. He even knew that she was angry with him this past week. No way would Quinn ever admit that it was disappointment at having his reputation confirmed by Mara, it was too humiliating. No doubt he would laugh if he knew she had thought about him romantically.

Quinn was beyond naïve when it came to sex, only having been with Travis, and that wasn’t pleasurable at all. Rick, apparently, had fucked half of the women of Atlanta if she believed Mara, and she did. Mara had no reason to lie, and Rick was so good looking and so easy going, Quinn didn’t doubt that he could bed any woman he wanted just by using those stunning turquoise eyes.