Ricochet (Renegades #3)(22)
Author: Skye Jordan

Apology filled his tone but didn’t begin to touch Rachel’s fury.

Troy gave him a strange look and added, “But everyone’s called him Ryker since he was a kid. We grew up together.”

Holy. Fuck.

This is not happening.

But staring right at the man made it impossible to hold on to that little fantasy for even a second. She crossed her arms and clenched her fists. With him standing in her office, knowing how close he was with Troy, a sense of vulnerability tore at her chest. She felt so utterly exposed in the place most important to her.

“Rach,” Troy said, “I’ve got to finish this scene. Can you get Ry to sign some basic paperwork? A release form, that kind of thing?”

A new level of alarm snaked in. “Why does he need a release form?”

“So he can come out and climb with us later.” Troy’s tone questioned her challenge. “And so he can consult on this bridge gig without any complications.”

The floor seemed to roll beneath her feet like an earthquake. “Wait, wait, wait.” She held up a hand and paused to gather a sliver more composure, but only because Nathan’s eyes were on her. “You told me he was coming as a favor to you. You told me you two were going to bullshit about the project. You told me it was going to be a casual back-and-forth, nothing formal. Consulting is formal. So which is it?”

Please say he’s only here to talk.

The thought of having Nathan around every day reminding her of what they’d done or, holy shit, worse, if he said anything to the guys… Panic welled. Warmth travelled up her neck and into her face.

“Um,” Nathan started, hesitantly, “Hold on. Troy…?”

“Troy,” someone yelled into the trailer, “better get over there, man. We’re running late, and we’ve already had enough problems for one day.”

“Tell them I’ll be right there.” Troy turned back to Rachel. “Look, just take care of Ry for me until I get back, okay. And be nice, Rach. Jax got a call from Townsend while he was on the rock. I have a feeling we’re going to need this guy”—he slapped Nathan’s arm—“more than we thought.”

Rachel’s mouth opened, but nothing came out, there was nothing to say. Her head was spinning, her heart folded into an origami turkey. Troy jogged down the trailer’s steps, leaving behind a shake and rattle in his wake.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Shame crawled through every cell in her body. The whole reason she’d chosen a stranger to fuck with abandon was so she wouldn’t have to see him again. Wouldn’t have to face the reality of all the nasty things she’d done to him, with him, let him do to her. Wouldn’t be tempted to do it all again. Wouldn’t develop a desire for even more.

Because she wasn’t doing more, dammit.

She rounded her desk and stalked for the door.

“Rachel—” Nathan started, his voice filled with apology and a let’s-work-this-out tone.

She sliced him a glare and held up a hand to silence him. After slamming the trailer door, she closed all three windows—heat be damned—and turned on Nathan. She pulled off her glasses and tossed them on her desk. “What in the fuck?”

“You look…” His voice was smooth and deep and as dreamy as she remembered…dammit. His gaze slid over her, appreciative, hungry. “Beautiful.”

Her chest constricted. “Nathan…” She couldn’t keep the whine from her voice. “This is my work. These people are like family to me.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he said, as calm as she was frantic. “I thought you’d work at some central office downtown. I didn’t expect to see you on a stunt set.”

“That is so beside the fucking point.” And her thoughts were so jumbled, she couldn’t even identify the point. All she knew was she’d been ambushed. And this was a real problem. And she was so pissed.

“You might want to move the strap on your right shoulder a little farther in,” he said, gesturing on his own body. “Looks like I left a bite mark—”

“You knew who I was,” she blurted out, to both shut him up and soothe the tingle of awareness with the reminder of how and when and why he’d given her that bite mark. “You heard my phone call to Troy.”

“I did.” His gaze kept skimming her body. “God, that dress—”

“You knew I was there to pick you up.”

“I did. But I forgot to tell you before you left this morning, that last night you earned the right to wear those boots, baby.”

“Oh my God.” She burned with the memory of riding him, forward, backward, hard and fast, slow and deep. “Why?” she cried, throwing her arms out to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have asked me back to the hotel if you’d known?”

“No, but you didn’t know that.”

A lopsided smile curved his lips. “I had a damned good idea. And I really wanted you.”

Rachel covered her face with both hands, rubbed at the tension, then let them drop in futility.

“I want to remind you,” he added, his tone conciliatory, “that I tried to tell you. Twice.”

“God.” She drove her hands into her hair . “Please tell me Troy doesn’t know.”

“No, I didn’t tell Troy.” He sauntered toward her, and his scent wrapped around her, touched her nose, made her ache. “Why is that so important to you? Do you have a thing for him?”

“What? No.” Okay, that had come out wrong. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I told you, he’s like my brother. Besides it wouldn’t matter if I did. I meant what I said last night. No complications. And if the people here found out, it would be a big complication for me.”

“I hear you,” he said, voice reassuring. “We’re on the same page, Rachel.”

“No. You’re here. That is the epitome of complication.”

He tipped his head and narrowed his eyes. “What kind of complication?”

Unease fluttered in her stomach. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it would cause problems.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I don’t think so. I think you might not want anyone close to see your naughty sex-kitten side.”

“Don’t go there,” she warned.

“I think—”