Ricochet (Renegades #3)(33)
Author: Skye Jordan

The man must not have been rebutted often, because he stared as if Ryker had answered in Swahili. Beside him, Rachel rubbed her temple.

Marx’s lids lowered. His jaw slid sideways. He was about ready to challenge Ryker again.

“We have plenty of time to work out all those details,” Rachel said. “Ryker just got into town—”

“Just last night,” he added, his gaze purposely on Rachel.

“So,” she continued smoothly, while managing to shoot him a glare from those pretty eyes, “naturally, there’s a lot of background to get him caught up on. He hasn’t had a chance to look at the geologist’s survey yet, or the engineer’s report, or the topography map—”

“Yes, I have,” he countered easily. “I read them all this afternoon.”

“Well…great.” Her attention turned back to Marx. “We’re going to be spending the next few days ordering equipment, interviewing the crew—”

“I’d like to participate—” Marx started.

“You can do a follow-up interview if you feel it’s necessary,” Ryker said. “But initially, it’s my decision. I have to work with them. They have to work with me. We have to trust each other. There’s nothing more important when dealing with explosives. I’m going to be the one who makes that call.”

Marx’s blue eyes turned smoky with irritation. “Your military is showing.”

The haze started to gather. That darkness that came over him now whenever he thought about or had to talk about his work. But Ryker made a point of smiling when he said, “Thank you.”

“Troy tells me you’re army EOD.”

“I am.”

“On leave?”

“Yes.” Normally, in this situation, he would have answered yes, sir. But the sir just wouldn’t roll off his tongue for this guy.

“How long have you been with EOD?” Marx asked.

A few yards back, Troy had stopped to watch and wait.

“Four years,” he said.

“And before that?” Josh asked.

Ryker hesitated. His rebellious side urged him to tell this guy what he could do with his inquisition, but loyalty won out. “Rangers.”

“Rangers,” Marx said with a note of both respect and surprise.

Rachel’s head turned sharply. “Rangers?”

Her you-asshole tone made Ryker wince. Just a little. But his memory of her reaction to his Rangers tattoo—That’s a sports team, right?”—still made him smile on the inside.

“How long?” Marx asked, his expression suspicious.

“Eight years.” Before the guy could ask the question Ryker knew would come next, he answered, “Infantry four years prior.”

Josh considered that, holding Ryker’s gaze. “Sixteen years in.”

“Yes.”

“That’s another thing we haven’t had time to go over,” Rachel said. “But we just finished talking about it, and I’ll get you all his credentials in the next few days.”

Marx smiled down at Rachel in a way that made Ryker’s hands fist. “I’m not worried, honey.” He refocused on Ryker. “Does your CO know you’re doing this? Because you’ve only got four years left to full retirement. You wouldn’t want—”

“I assure you, I’m following my CO’s leave instructions to the letter.” Anger licked Ryker’s gut like fire, but he forced himself to relax so he didn’t make this a confrontation. Yet. “If my leave status is a problem, we should get it out in the open right now.”

“Not a problem for me or Renegades unless your background check or credentials don’t hold up,” Marx said with a negligent lift of one shoulder. “But if word of you messing around with explosives for civilian purposes reached your CO, you could be risking…” He paused an extra beat. “Oh…but that’s what EOD is all about, right? Risk.”

The insinuation of carelessness crossed the line. Marx had just made this a confrontation.

Ryker took one step forward, bringing him within six inches of Marx’s face. The other man remained perfectly still, as if he’d expected Ryker’s aggressive move.

“Every risk I take,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “every risk my team takes, is carefully calculated.”

Troy came up beside them. “Dinner’s on.”

Ryker stayed put. Maintained eye contact. And when Marx didn’t back down, Ryker knew there was more to this guy than his façade of risk assessment.

Rachel stepped close, and Ryker expected to feel her touch, but when she moved in, her hand went to Marx. “I know you like salmon, Josh.” She turned him toward the house by the arm, finally breaking the intensity, smiling up at him. “I marinated it in olive oil, lemon, garlic, and ginger.”

“Sounds amazing,” Josh said, covering Rachel’s hand with his.

Ryker turned his back on the sight and stared at the pool, a hole burning through the center of his body. This was fucked. This was why he’d stuck with club rats and bar chicks. Because Marx reminded him of everything he wasn’t. And Rachel’s choice just reinforced Troy’s mantra to leave her alone.

When Rachel and Marx were halfway up the lawn, Troy stepped close. “What the fuck was that?”

Ryker cut him a glare. “What?”

“That. You’ve never given a rat’s ass about competition for a woman before.” Anger brightened Troy’s usually subdued brown eyes. “I’m not going to tell you again. Forget about her.”

Ryker was not going to get into this with Troy here or now. He turned toward the house, but Troy fisted Ryker’s shirt and yanked him back around.

Fury snapped like a whip, and he knocked Troy’s arm away, meeting his gaze directly. “You are fucking with the wrong person. At the wrong time. Do you hear me? Mind your own goddamned business.”

“She is my business. Literally. And she’s not your type anyway. She’s not a fucking club chick, okay? She’s not fast and she’s not easy.”

It took everything Ryker had not to laugh. Rachel’s wild side was obviously a tightly held secret. He wished the fact that he’d experienced it didn’t thrill him. Wished he didn’t want more.

“You know what else she’s not, Troy?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “She’s not Giselle.”

Troy’s expression froze. The color drained from his face so fast, Ryker was about to grab him before he hit the ground. But Troy struck back with a bite first. “Where’d that come from? What does that even mean?”