Ricochet (Renegades #3)(26)
Author: Skye Jordan

Create a plan as a team.

More discomfort eased. A buzz had been building inside him since they’d started talking about explosions. Yes, both the Rockstar and Rachel were contributing, but the majority of the tingle along his limbs and burning across his ribs came from a familiar excitement. One that only came with blowing shit up. A very special, unique, and potent adrenaline. One that gave him a twisted sense of purpose.

He shot a glare toward Troy. He’d known this project would hook Ryker. He also knew Ryker shouldn’t be doing it. “How big is it?”

“A little under a thousand feet long with six sections.” The answer came from Rachel, and Ryker turned toward her again. She’d taken off her glasses, but her eyes were flat and dark, not glowing and warm the way they’d been last night.

“How tall?”

“From the ground,” she asked, “or the bridge itself?”

He sighed and cocked his hip with a shake of his head. Secretary, bookkeeper, glorified gofer his ass. “Both.” “The bridge is between three hundred and six hundred feet above ground,” Rachel said, “depending on the slope of the hills, and thirty two feet from deck to canopy.”

Ryker turned to Jax. “One guy can’t handle that. It would take months. I’ve only got a little over three weeks before I report back to duty.”

“You’ll have a crew,” Troy said. “Rachel’s already got a dozen welders and construction workers lined up, plus support staff. We need a lead blaster. Someone to plan and execute the deal. Bring that bridge down in a big way. Dude, you know you’re our guy. It’ll take you two weeks to rig it and a couple days to get ready to blow it. You’ll be done in plenty of time to head back to the sand pit.”

Ryker crossed his arms and studied the ceiling. This was the first big thing Troy had ever asked of him. And the job was challenging. He’d never blown a bridge. Never a structure this large. The fringe benefit would be staying close to Rachel for most of his remaining leave. And having two exciting things to focus on for the next few weeks, other than trying to forget the past?

That damn near sounded like heaven right about now.

But there was that teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy, slightly problematic matter of playing with explosives while he still held active military status…

“The job pays fifty grand.” Jax’s voice pierced Ryker’s bubble of doubt.

He scoffed. “You’re yanking my chain.”

Jax shook his head. “It’s an important job, and I’m paying accordingly. If you pull off the bridge scene, we’ll come in on budget. Meals, a vehicle, expenses are covered. You’ll have whatever support staff you need. Rachel will arrange everything.”

Ryker checked the others’ expressions. Wes and Troy stared back, expectant. Rachel, resigned and still pissed. When he looked at Jax again, he remained dead serious.

Money never hurt his bank account, but Ryker didn’t need it. The EOD hazard pay for facing getting blown to itty-bitty bits every day in the army paid well, and with absolutely no expenses, money was never a concern—something he’d never imagined possible as a kid. But Jax had gone and added another challenge, and challenge was something Ryker could rarely get enough of and could almost never turn down.

“What if something goes wrong with the job,” he asked, “and you don’t come in under budget?”

“We hope that won’t happen, but if it does, the pay is twenty-five grand. Everything else still applies.”

Ryker exhaled. Chewed the inside of his cheek. While he wouldn’t be messing with the direct wording of his CO’s orders, he would be seriously stretching the spirit of his meaning, “Do whatever the hell you need to do to get your head on straight. And don’t come back until it is.”

“Ry,” Troy said, voice low. “We need you.”

His CO was eight thousand miles away. Troy was right here.

He extended his hand toward Wes. “I’ll take the plans, look them over. No promises.”

Wes grinned and handed Ryker the role of blueprints, then bumped fists with Troy behind Ryker’s back.

“I haven’t agreed,” he muttered, glancing at the title bar on the plans.

“You will.” Troy slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s hit the mountain, dude. Celebrate.”

“Hold on.” Rachel stood and pressed her hands flat on the desk. “He’s not going anywhere. I have a ton of stuff I need from him now.”

Man, he liked the sound of that. He’d like it better if she’d meant it the way he wanted her to mean it.

Troy rounded Rachel’s desk, nudged her chair aside, and drew open the bottom drawer.

She sat back and lifted her hands. “Hello. I live here. You can’t just push me out of the way because I’m smaller than you.”

“I’d never push you out of the way, Rach.”

“What the hell do you call what you just did?”

“Nudging.”

Ryker watched the exchange with amusement. They definitely acted like siblings. Troy was pulling papers from files, shoving them back in, and annoyance mounted in Rachel’s expression.

“Troy, stop it. What are you looking for?” She slapped at his hands. “Don’t mess up my files.” When he didn’t stop, she grabbed his wrists and shoved him away. “Stop. It.”

“Dude,” Wes warned, “you’re lighting matches near leaking propane.”

“God,” she breathed, frazzled, angry. “Troy Jacobs, I love you, but you are seriously pissing me off. Get the hell out of my office.”

“It’s not your office. It’s our trailer. You can’t just kick me out because I’m bigger than you.”

“Troy,” Wes said, “if I were you, I’d step out of scorching range. Our little Rachel is breathing fire today.”

Troy pressed his lips together, planted his hands on his hips, and eased back and out of Rachel’s space.

“There,” she said on a breath, sitting straighter, hands still hovering over her files in protection. “Now, what the hell are you looking for?”

“A release form.”

“Fine.” She pulled two papers from the files. “Nathan, get over here.”

He jumped to his feet and stepped up to the desk. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes cut to his, expression stern, but there was heat there too, and he knew she was remembering her “Then fuck me already” order the night before.