Ricochet (Renegades #3)(32)
Author: Skye Jordan

Josh’s smile gleamed in the darkness, and he started toward her. He was wearing his typical work clothes, trendy black flat-front slacks and a pinstriped button-down, the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. A neat square belt buckle reflected the light. He looked good. Sharp. Confident. Quietly powerful.

He always did.

And she had a damn good feeling that was going to cause even more conflict with Nathan.

Josh lifted a hand to her as he neared.

She smiled and waved back, then met Nathan’s gaze seriously. “If you take the job, you’re going to have to deal with Josh. There’s just no way around it. And if that’s going to be a problem, please, please step back. These people mean as much to me as Troy means to you. I’ll find another way to do the stunt.”

“Hey, beautiful.” Josh’s deep voice cut into their conversation.

The muscles in Rachel’s shoulders tightened like guitar strings. She looked away from Nathan’s I-knew-it expression. “Hey, Josh.”

“Come here, you.” He stretched his hand down to her, and she took it, pulling herself to her feet. But then he embraced her, the way he used to before she’d had the talk with him—a long conversation during their last job together, explaining how she felt about relationships. She’d assured him her mind wouldn’t change anytime soon and asked him to stop the romantic gestures, the sweet names, the touching. And he had.

Until now. Because he’d seen or sensed something between her and Nathan. And because he knew she wouldn’t make a scene in front of this group.

She returned the hug, because anything else would have been awkward. His body was like a rock—much like Nathan’s, she realized in that moment. And he smelled good, like expensive cologne, understated and spicy. He always smelled good. He always dressed well. Always had a fresh haircut. Never swore around her. Opened the door for her everywhere they went. Waited for her to sit before taking a chair.

There had been times when she thought she might have returned his affection, but work always interfered with finding out. Work and the fact that he was looking to put a ring on someone’s finger.

“It’s been too long,” he said. “When I saw Renegades’ name on the job, I wrestled it away from the other guys.”

“You liar,” she teased. “Jax already told me you were the only one available.”

“Damn.” He pushed her back by the arms, grimacing. “Caught.”

She smiled.

“You look great,” he said.

God, this was uncomfortable. “You too.”

She turned and gestured to Nathan, who’d gotten to his feet and picked up the beer bottle and phone Rachel had left on the pool deck.

She dragged in a deep breath to ease the tension building in her chest. This was it—meeting of the two men who could…would…make or break this stunt. Which would make or break this budget. Which would make or break Renegades’ success on this film.

Rachel was fully aware this was not the disarming of a nuclear weapon, but Renegades’ success was her success. And after her recent failures, this success felt monumental.

“This is Ryker,” she said. “Ryker, Josh.”

9

There were enough undercurrents going on here to pull Ryker into a head-over-ass spin.

In Ryker’s world, Marx would have been tagged with a nickname like “pretty boy” for his face. Maybe “Harvard” for his preppy style. But the expression on Marx’s face, the look in his eyes, gave Ryker a whole different perspective. He saw intelligence. Cunning. Ambition. And the kind of soul-deep confidence that came from competing and winning. He might have been law enforcement at one time. Or maybe an Ivy League sports star.

Or maybe, he was just an arrogant asshole.

Marx stayed close to Rachel, confirming the claim he’d already made by greeting her with “beautiful” and that hug.

“Ryker,” he said. “You’re the blaster.”

He offered his hand and a polite smile, but challenge rolled off Marx in waves.

“Not officially…yet.” Ryker handed Rachel her phone, and took Marx’s hand for a shake. “We’re still lining up the ducks.”

“Great.” He grinned down at Rachel. “I’m sure Rachel’s told you I value precision.”

He shot a look at Rachel and hated—hated—the way her smile for Marx illuminated her face the same way the pool lit up the night. “Something like that.”

The emotions tightening his chest were foreign and uncomfortable. He’d never identified with jealousy, but right now the skin along his spine prickled, and if he had hackles, they’d be up.

“Great beer,” Marx said, glancing at the bottles still in Ryker’s hand. “Ever been to their brewery?”

“No.” He tilted the bottles, looking over the labels. “One of those things Troy said we’d do while I was here.”

Marx slid his hands into his front pockets. He was Ryker’s height but had a way of rolling back on his heels that made it seem like he was looking down at others. “You’re in luck. It’s only about twenty minutes from the bridge site. Great restaurant, all the beers on tap, brewery tours.”

Rachel shifted on her feet. Her hands were clasped, fingers flexing and releasing. Troy sauntered slowly toward them across the lush lawn, his gaze watchful.

Those uneasy signals verified Ryker’s assessment of Marx.

“Sounds great,” Ryker said. “I’ll make a point of stopping by when I’m there.”

“When were you planning on going up to the site?” Marx asked. “I’d like to coordinate, be there to go over things with you.”

Rachel was right to be concerned. Ryker could already see problems hovering.

“We haven’t pinpointed a starting date yet,” she said. “But we’re close.”

But Marx never took his gaze of Ryker. “I like to work with the crew on these big stunts.” His tone was friendly but firm in an attempt to set the groundwork for authority. “Getting firsthand views of exactly how they plan on executing each phase helps the insurance company feel secure, and in turn keeps the rate as reasonable as possible.”

“I understand,” Ryker said, keeping his tone just as firm. Just as authoritative. Marx needed to understand—right now—Ryker wouldn’t be bowing. “And I’m all for working as a team. But when I’m working on something new, and of this caliber, I need to be 150 percent there. No interruptions. After I get acclimated, we’ll set up a time to meet.”