Ricochet (26 page)

“That’s my job to imagine all the worst-case scenarios and assess the risk that could possibly occur.”

“But we also know”—Rachel’s voice drew his gaze as she walked toward their table—“that there’s a difference between worst-case scenarios and impossible scenarios.”

Ryker had one of those crazy “chorus of angels” moments he’d never believed in. But time slowed, and all his attention homed on her.

Something was different. Like firecracker different. She looked gorgeous, as usual, in a casual blue print dress, the fabric flowy and draping along the luscious curves of her body. The uneven hem hitting her high thigh and the tiny straps exposed her shoulders and chest. And his body flashed hot.

She came directly to the end of the table, her gaze direct on Ryker’s. Her creamy skin was pinked from the day’s sun, and her hair was still damp from her shower, spilling crazily over her shoulders in loose waves and making Ryker think about feeling it sliding over his stomach, his thighs, threaded through his fingers, fisted in his hands.

Fire blasted through his groin, and the sexual ache in his gut deepened into pain.

Rachel stopped at Charlie’s chair, placed her hand on the back, and leaned into it, her other hand on her cocked hip, but her gaze held on Ryker’s, as if she were trying to read him. She darted a look toward the twins, her gaze roving over each of them slowly.

His mind flashed with the sight of the room from outside in the dark night, suddenly sure Rachel had seen the twins coming on to him, and only hoped she understood the game he played with them was for everyone else’s benefit.

Marx whistled low through his teeth, drawing Rachel’s gaze.

“Rach…” His eyes ate her up, and a whole different type of frustration added knots along Ryker’s nerves. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “I only caught the end of that conversation, but I could swear I heard you toying with the laws of statistics.” Her mouth turned, but the grin was sly. “Did you need me to calculate the statistics of an earthquake occurring during the short duration of this project at a magnitude required to actually cause risk to life or property? Because you know how I love to play with numbers. And you know how I also love to bring down the overhead for Renegades. So, seeing as a calculation like that would do both, I’d be all over it.”

“Well, now that you’ve pointed out the unlikelihood of that event,” he said, his smile edgy, “I can see it wouldn’t be worth your time.”

She gave him a nod of approval and glanced toward the table, where the food had been laid out. “Now that I’ve had a shower, I’m suddenly feeling the length of the day. I’m going to grab some food, mix myself a drink, and take them back to my room.”

“Rach,” Jax said. “We’re going to finalize the action sequence when we’re done eating. I know Ryker’s going to need your help putting that together.”

She scooped salad onto a paper plate, added two slices of pizza, and two brownies.

“He’s a great note taker.” She licked brownie crumbs off her fingers and shot him a halfhearted grin. “And he’s also fond of telling me just how to do things, so I’m sure he’ll relay the details you finalize. But right now, I’m burned to a crisp, and I still have to make final edits to the SOP to satisfy Josh’s OCD.”

Jax darted a look at Ryker. He was frowning at Rachel, trying to read this…odd…mood, and Jax’s expression mirrored Ryker’s.

“Are you okay, Rach?” Jax asked.

“Sure.” She peeked into a cardboard box stuffed into the corner. “There it is.” She set her plate on the table and pulled two bottles of liquor out of the box. “Why didn’t anyone break out the booze? Am I the only one who needs a drink around here?”

She turned a plastic cup over and poured in clear liquid. Ryker glanced at the label and saw the image of an orange. Vodka. Mandarin. The memory of the taste of orange on her tongue that night flooded him with lust. The amount of alcohol she added to the cup in comparison to the amount of soda confirmed she was serious about the drink. And Ryker’s mind was already filling with her tipsy smile, her giggle, the loose, soft feel of her eager mouth.

“I could use one.” He stood and met her at the table. “Got whiskey in there?”

“Absolutely.” Her eyes darted to the side, barely meeting his through her lashes. “I made sure to pick up some Firestone too. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Beer?” Ray, one of the other construction workers, called from the table. “Did I hear Firestone?”

“Kitchen,” Ryker told him. “Next building to the right.”

“Sweet.” Ray pushed his chair back and exited.

Ryker poured whiskey into a cup as Rachel cut a lime in half and squeezed it into her drink. With one swirl of the liquid, she tipped the drink back and took two big swallows.

“Whoa, sugar,” he murmured under his breath, his cock growing hard at the sight. “Remember what that did to you last time you chugged.”

She lowered the cup and sighed, eyes closed. “Can’t seem to forget.” Before he could interpret or reply, she offered him the other half of the lime for his drink and lifted one corner of her lips in a pathetic attempt at a smile. “Enjoy your night.”

“Wait…” he murmured, but she’d already turned and started toward the door.

“See everyone tomorrow,” she called, turning and pushing out the door with her shoulder. “Call if anyone needs anything.”

Disappointment tugged at Ryker’s gut. He turned back to his drink, crushed the lime into the amber liquid, and drained the cup, then refilled.

“Love you, Mom,” Rachel said, leaning her head back against the wooden rocking chair in the cabin’s tiny living room-slash-kitchen. “I promise I’ll come home when this job is finished.”

Her mother didn’t like it, but she agreed, and Rachel disconnected. She set her cell on a side table, tucked one foot beneath her, lifted her other foot to the seat of the rocking chair, and wrapped her arms around her leg. With her chin on her knee, she rocked gently in the dark cabin, listening to the quiet night sounds through the open window. The night air was crisp and clean and so incredibly soothing.

Only Rachel wasn’t relaxed. She was restless waiting for Nathan to come out of the dining room. She’d convinced herself he’d be walking with a blonde on each arm. Almost convinced herself she was ready to see it, even though when she’d headed to dinner tonight, she’d been building the guts to go after him. Then she’d seen Katie hanging on him through the lighted windows, and knew the twins had made their interest in him clear.

The dining room’s screen door squeaked open, and voices floated out, then it closed with a rough, wooden slam, making Rachel flinch. But Ray and Brad, two of the construction workers, stepped out and chatted their way toward the cabin they were sharing about two hundred yards behind Rachel’s little house. As soon as they disappeared inside, the night went quiet again.

She continued to rock, taking her thumbnail between her teeth. She really should be editing the SOP. In fact, she should be listening to them talk about the action plan so she could help Nathan write it tomorrow. They didn’t have much time to get it together and past the city and the insurance company, not to mention Josh, before they needed to get the blasting underway.

Josh. Man, she’d never thought he’d rub her wrong, but the way he acted with Nathan…

The screen door groaned again, and Rachel’s gaze focused on the dining room. Nathan stepped out, and just as Rachel had suspected, he had an arm around the shoulders of each twin. Her lungs froze. Her heart dropped. They were giggling, both holding him around the middle, their hands roaming, making Rachel’s own hands fist.

“He’s been doing it with a different woman every night for the last month in New Orleans.”

Troy’s words burned down the center of her chest. She knew Nathan was a player. Had known from their phone call before she’d ever met him. And just because he still wanted Rachel didn’t mean he’d stopped wanting other women. He’d never alluded to exclusivity. She’d just attached her own preconceived value judgment.

The threesome steered toward the cabin the twins were sharing at the end of a long row, out of Rachel’s sight, but she stared at the corner of the building where she’d lost visibility of them for a long time, trying to get her mind around the next couple of weeks working with him, knowing he’d fucked those two upside down and sideways.

She shook her head and looked down at her hands wringing each other, then suddenly relaxed. And accepted the reality. Yes, this was what hookups were all about—the freedom to change partners at a whim. No commitments. No worries. No hurt feelings. No lies. No secrets.

Rachel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes were damp, but she didn’t let tears accumulate. This was good. Another life lesson. She had quite a few coming, considering she’d lived so little of life up to this point.

She gripped the arms of the rocker and stood, holding on until she stopped wavering. She really had loaded up that drink with quite a bit of vodka. Fortunately, that made her a little bit numb. Unfortunately, it also made her a lot horny.

“Ryker.”

The male voice calling Nathan’s name made Rachel stop on her way to the bedroom and look out the window again. Nathan stood at the edge of her view, hands in his pockets, head down, walking in the direction of his cabin, but stopped and turned when he heard his name.

“I’m tired, Marx. Whatever you want to talk about can wait until tomorrow.” Nathan sounded more than tired. He sounded discouraged and blue.

“It can if you want me to bring this up in front of other people.” Josh sauntered into Rachel’s view, and a sick feeling sank in her gut.

She stepped up to the window and curled her fingers around the frame.

“What now?” Nathan asked, pulling his hands from his pockets to plant them at his hips.

“Kandahar,” Josh said.

Nathan’s shoulders inched higher.

“Tell me about that,” Josh pushed.

Nathan closed the distance between them. He leaned in until they were nose to nose. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

His voice was low, measured, filled with warning and pain. Pain that reached into Rachel’s chest and squeezed until she found it hard to breathe.

“It is if it compromises safety,” Josh said.

Nathan eased back and crossed his arms but said nothing.

“That was a very bad incident,” Josh said.

“Just how the fuck do you know about anything?”

“Contacts.”

“Your contacts are worth shit.”

“Actually,” he said, “my contacts are extremely reliable.”

“Then you don’t need me to tell you about it.”

“I’d like to hear your side. Hear how you believe it wasn’t your fault. Because I can’t figure that out from the information I got.”

Nathan lunged for Josh and grabbed the other man’s shirt. The movement was so fast, Rachel didn’t see anything but a blur between the second Nathan dropped his arms and the moment he had Josh nearly pulled off his feet by the shirt.

“It
wasn’t
my fault.” He thrust Josh back so far, Rachel had to move to the edge of the window and put her face to the screen to see where he’d landed. “And I sure as shit don’t have to prove that to you.”

Josh sauntered back into view, hands down at his sides. “Then why’d your CO force you to take a leave?”

“Because I haven’t been back to the States in two years.”

“Sure it wasn’t because you aren’t mentally stable enough to stay out on the line?”

“Shut your mouth before you can’t talk anymore, Marx.”

“Sure it wasn’t because your PTSD was out of control?”

Rachel sucked a breath and held it.

Nathan took another menacing step forward, but Josh sidestepped and kept his hands ready in a way that reminded Rachel of Keaton, the Renegades’ martial arts expert.

“What happened to you out there, man?” Josh asked, his tone more disrespectful than compassionate. “Had to be hella bad to get your CO to fly your sorry ass back to the States from halfway around the world.”

“Either you fire me or you shut your fucking mouth,” Nathan warned, fists clenching, body tilted forward, ready for a fight. “And if you say anything to anyone, you will see a slander lawsuit that will strip you of your fancy posh life. A life my work overseas helps make possible.”

“Don’t give me that patriotic bullshit,” Josh bit back. “If you cost a life here, you’re no good to us anywhere—in the US or Afghanistan or Iraq or fucking Timbuktu. And that
is
my business. If you don’t tell me, someone else will.”

Josh turned and walked back toward the dining room.

Nathan stood there a long minute, unmoving. Rachel ached to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and explain that Josh really was looking out for Renegades and the staff and the actors. But he wouldn’t understand. And his pride would surely be crushed if he knew she’d witnessed the argument.

Finally, Nathan raked both hands through his hair, then jerking his fists down to his sides with a sound of supreme anger as he turned toward his room. But his gaze paused on Rachel’s cabin. Could he see her? Fuck, he’d be
so
pissed…

But he only continued to turn and stalked to his own room, flipping on the light and slamming the door so hard Rachel jumped.