Ricochet (Locked & Loaded #1) (8 page)

Then there was the fact that she could make Rick blush. It was astounding. Rick… the huge, intimidating, badass former Marine and fighter actually blushed when he realized he’d been busted eye-fucking her.

Amazingly, Quinn wasn’t bothered by his blatant appreciation. It had been so long since a man, or anyone for that matter, looked at her with anything but disgust or ownership. Once she got past her initial discomfort at being flirted with, she ate up the attention that had been severely lacking in her life up to now. The knowledge that they would remain as friends went a long way to helping her relax in his presence.

By the end of the workday, a dark cloud had replaced Quinn’s good mood. Even though she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t miserable by the fact that Rick didn’t show up at the gym today, she knew deep down that his absence was the reason for her sour attitude.

Rick wasn’t at work Tuesday either. By Wednesday, Quinn was positively depressed. She found that she missed him way more than she should, way more than she was comfortable with. In a mere three weeks, Rick had somehow wormed his way into her life and was now lodged firmly under her skin.

Quinn was sitting at her desk on Thursday when a tall blonde woman walked into the lobby.

“Can I help you?”

The woman smiled at Quinn. She was genuine and warm. “I’m here to see Clint.”

“Okay, I’ll track him down.” Quinn reached for the phone, but the woman stopped her.

“Don’t worry, he knows I’m here. I texted him.” She held up her cell phone, shaking it at Quinn. “You’re new, right? I’m Mara Paxton, Clint’s wife. I was in the area so we’re grabbing lunch.”

Wife?

The surprise Quinn felt must have shown on her face.

Mara laughed— a big, no holds-barred laugh, all white teeth with her head thrown back. “I’m guessing you didn’t know he was married.”

Quinn felt her cheeks heat up. “I never really thought about it. I mean… I don’t spend a lot of time with the guys or in the gym. I wasn’t, you know, interested in your husband that way.”

Mara snorted and laughed again. “Oh Quinn, I didn’t think that. You’re funny. We should hang out sometime.” She dug through her purse, pulling out a business card that she handed to Quinn. “Here, call me. We’ll get lunch or something.”

Quinn took the card just as the inner door opened. Clint came striding across the lobby, wrapping his perfectly sculpted arms around his wife.

“Hey Mar, ready to go? I could eat a horse right about now.” The tall, bulky man tucked Mara into his side. She beamed up at him, her eyes shining with love.

“Yeah babe. I’m ready.” Mara turned to Quinn. “I was just telling Quinn that me and her should hang out sometime.”

“Oh?” Clint ran a hand through his short, strawberry blonde hair. “That’s good. Quinn’s new to the city, right?” He looked at Quinn expectantly.

“Ummmm, yeah. I am. New that is. To Atlanta, not to Georgia. I grew up an hour north of here.” Quinn wanted to smack herself in the head. She knew better than to give out any information that could link her back to Travis, no matter how unlikely.

Mara clasped her hands together, bouncing on her toes. “How great! I’m from Virginia. We only moved here last year. You could probably show me a few places that I don’t know about.”

Quinn blinked, stunned into silence by Mara’s bubbly insistence that they would be friends. She finally spoke after Clint raised an expectant eyebrow at her. “Uh, okay. Sure.”

“We’ll see you later, Quinn,” Clint said as the couple headed for the door.

“Oh, Clint. I forgot to ask. Do you know where Rick has been? Is he sick or something?” Quinn felt ridiculous asking, but decided that Clint was the one to ask. He would be least likely to make a big deal of it since he hadn’t really been around the last two weeks and didn’t know she had been spending time with Rick. She knew the men traveled for training, but she hadn’t seen Rick on the schedule.

Clint twitched. Just a fraction, but enough that Quinn noticed.

“Ricochet? He’s touring with one of the UFC guys. Some last minute thing in Vegas or something for a fight. He’ll be back next week I think. Not sure.” Quinn nodded in agreement, because she didn’t know what to say.

Ricochet?
Quinn had no idea what that meant or why Clint would call Rick that. She noticed Rick had an irritating, yet somehow endearing habit of giving everyone around him a nickname, but this was the first she heard of anyone using one on Rick.

“C’mon Clint. I’m hungry.” Mara tugged on her husband’s hand, leading him towards the door. “See you later Quinn!”

A soft breeze blew in the front door and they were gone.

QUINN WAITED NERVOUSLY at the bar, her eyes jumping to the door every minute or so. She sipped her drink slowly, not wanting to get drunk before her companion arrived. Her tolerance for being out was wearing thin, especially since in the mere fifteen minutes since she walked through the door of Fado’s Irish Pub, no fewer than six guys had hit on her. The bus she had to take to get here dropped her off earlier than she had liked, but the next bus would have been too late to be on time.

“Quinn!”

Quinn jerked her head up and saw Mara Paxton making a beeline for her, weaving gracefully through the Friday happy hour crowd.

“Hey girl! You look great!” Mara beamed as she pulled Quinn into a hug.

“Thanks, uh… you too.” Quinn cursed herself for sounding so stupid. After two years of Travis, her conversational skills were sorely lacking.

“I’m glad you called me. Clint is working this weekend, some out of town client he has to see. It gets so boring without him around.”

“Can I get you a drink?” A cute bartender put a napkin in front of Mara.

“Sure gorgeous, I’ll have a rum and Coke.”

“No problem.” He nodded, checked that Quinn’s beer was still full, and went to mix Mara’s drink.

“Rum and Coke at an Irish pub?” Quinn asked.

Mara grinned. “I like what I like.” She shrugged and pointed at Quinn’s dark Guinness. “And I definitely don’t like that.” Her face twisted up as if she smelled something bad.

“Here you are.” The bartender put Mara’s drink down in front of her, winking at Quinn. “Let me know if either of you ladies needs anything.”

Mara gave Quinn a “he’s so cute and he’s totally hitting on you” look that Quinn promptly ignored. Yeah, he was good looking, dark hair, green eyes, nice body from what Quinn could see, but picking up a guy in a bar? Too cliché for her, not to mention scary.

Holding up her glass, Mara smiled at Quinn. “To new friends.”

“I can drink to that.” Quinn grinned, clinking her beer with Mara’s rum and Coke.

“So, what’s it like working with all those hot, ripped guys? I bet you can hardly focus on your job, what with them half-naked and sweaty all the time.”

Quinn snorted beer through her nose, coughing and sputtering until Mara handed her a napkin with a wicked grin on her face. “Jeez, Mara. Don’t do that to me while I’m drinking!” Quinn giggled as she mopped up the mess.

Mara laughed, her eyes sparkling with humor.

“Anyway,” Quinn said once she caught her breath, “I’m in the front lobby ninety percent of the day. I don’t really see much of the guys unless they’re coming or going.”

Plus, the only guy I want to ogle is one I can’t get involved with.

Mara frowned. “That sucks. Getting to check out the goods has got to be the best perk of working there.”

“I don’t know. I kind of like being out front. Fighting…” Quinn hesitated, trying to find a way to describe her feelings without insulting Mara’s husband, “it’s just too violent for me, I guess.” She shrugged. “Not my thing, really.”

With wide eyes, Mara gaped at Quinn. “Seriously? You work at an MMA training facility and you don’t watch the fighting because it’s too violent?” She chuckled. “You’re a trip, Quinn.”

“Yeah, I know,” Quinn said dejectedly. “Hey, I was curious about something. Something about one of the guys.” She shifted on her barstool, uncomfortable to bring this up but determined to get the answer to her question.

“Shoot, girl.” Mara leaned closer, obviously interested in whatever juicy gossip Quinn was about to dish.

“Well,” Quinn felt her face heat up but pressed on, “do you know why is Rick called Ricochet?”

Mara’s beautiful face split with a wide grin. “Are you crushing on Rick, Quinn? Because he’s totally gorgeous. I could easily see you two together. God, you’d be the hottest couple ever!”

“What? No!” Quinn said a little too vehemently. “No, I’m not crushing on him. He’s been friendly, as in just friends,” she clarified when Mara gave her a knowing look. “Honestly. We’re just friends. I wanted to know the reason for his nickname, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay. You’re better off as friends with that boy anyway.” She lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “He’s not known for sticking around, if you know what I mean. He “ricochets” from one bed to another, hardly takes his shoes off before he’s out the door and on to the next girl. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.” Mara made little air quotes around the word
ricochets
.

The thick, dark beer Quinn consumed suddenly felt heavy and gross in her stomach. Disappointment was her initial reaction to Mara’s description of Rick as a player. Not that it was a surprise, heck, she heard about his reputation from his own mouth that day in the break room. He was hot, single, and could pretty much get whomever he wanted. It wasn’t long before anger replaced the disappointment. It seemed that every single man Quinn came across was a total douche. She was so sick and tired of douches. But with Rick, it seemed like there was more to him than the slick player he portrayed. An unfeeling ass wouldn’t bring a stranded woman to the grocery store.

“Good thing we’re just friends then.” Quinn dropped some money on the bar, feeling suddenly brave and if she would admit it to herself, a little vengeful. If Rick was going out every weekend, why was she sitting at home alone pining for him? She raised a hand to flag down the cute bartender.

Smiling, he made his way down the now crowded bar, stopping in front of Quinn. He leaned forward on his elbows, his face only a few inches away from Quinn’s.

“Need another?” he asked with a playful smirk, wiping the bar without tearing his gaze away from hers.

“Yep. And maybe a date?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn could see Mara’s jaw drop. Hell, Quinn couldn’t even believe she just did that. Forward was not part of Quinn’s repertoire. Quinn didn’t even have a repertoire.

Who the heck is this brave girl and what has she done with timid little Quinn?

The bartender threw his towel over his shoulder and grinned, his green eyes sparkling. “I’m sorry to say I can’t go on a date with you.”

Quinn felt her heart sputter to a stop. She shouldn’t have put herself out there like that, out of her comfort zone. Now she felt like an idiot.

“I don’t go out with anyone whose name I don’t know.” He held out his hand. “Chase Gallagher.”

Quinn smiled, relieved, and shook the outstretched hand. It was warm, a little too warm maybe, but she shook it nonetheless.

“Quinn Wallace.”

“Well Quinn Wallace, now that I know you, I’d love to take you out sometime.” Chase met her eyes, neither of them looking away as their hands stayed clasped over the bar between them.

“Lord have mercy,” Mara said loudly, fanning herself with her hand. “I need another drink if I’m expected to watch you two melt all of my ice with the steamy looks you’re giving each other.”

Embarrassed, Quinn pulled her hand back as Chase laughed.

“Another rum and Coke coming up.”

Quinn sat there stunned, while Mara stared at her, amused.

What the heck did I just do?

BY MONDAY, QUINN was already regretting her upcoming date with Chase. She deserved to have a life,
wanted
to have a life. One date couldn’t hurt. She just didn’t want to feel so exposed and vulnerable. Being alone with a strange man was not a good way to feel safe.

Quinn did her work quickly and efficiently even as distracted as she was about both her date and the fact that Rick was still gone. Halfway through the day, however, she made a decision. Quinn left her desk to go into the main area of the gym. Her eyes glanced around the room until she found who she was looking for.

“Xavier!” Quinn waved him over.

The man stopped mid-punch, steadied the bag he was hitting, and walked towards Quinn, smiling.

“Quinn. I’m surprised to see you back here.” His smile was white and straight, his dark eyes shining as he approached.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably on her feet, her eyes dropped to the floor, before finally meeting Xavier’s gaze head on. “I need a favor.”

RICK PARKED OUTSIDE Sanctum MMA on Wednesday, glad to be back from his latest covert op. He got out of the car and rolled his neck, wincing at the stiffness that remained after flying eighteen hours in a Globemaster cargo jump seat. He had to hitch a ride with a military flight since passenger airlines don’t land anywhere within hundreds of miles of the op site.

He had been incredibly restless on this last mission, more so than usual, his mind constantly wandering back to Quinn. Rick spent countless hours wondering how Quinn’s long, dark hair would look spread out on his white sheets, what noises she would make if he kissed her, how soft her skin would feel under his rough hands. He wanted to find out,
needed
to find out. Couldn’t fucking think until he experienced it in real life and not just his overactive imagination.

It nearly drove him crazy during the flight out and back. Rick used his training to block everything out while he was on the ground or during the mission, including Quinn. With others counting on him to give his A-game he was always completely focused. But travel time? He literally tortured himself with fantasies of what they would do together— naked.

Now, just seconds from seeing her again, Rick was suddenly nervous. He could face down a mob of angry insurgents without breaking a sweat, parachute into enemy territory in the pitch black without hesitation, go dark for days with nothing to rely on for survival except his own training, but Quinn? What he felt for her scared the shit out of him.