Ricochet (Renegades #3)(52)
Author: Skye Jordan

She paused there in the middle of the gravel drive, with the sound of crickets filling her head. But Troy’s warnings to her that morning drowned out the soothing sound.

“He’s in a bad place—emotionally, mentally. He’s broken—on the inside. He’s hurting in a place that can’t always be healed. The Army is his life. It’s all he knows, and it’s what he loves. It’s as much the air he breathes as Renegades is mine. Without it, he would spiral into self-destruction.

“Here’s the truth about you, Rachel. You may not be interested in serious, but you care.”

While Troy might understand how she cared about everyone, he didn’t know caring was a true Achilles’ heel. And by disclosing the depth of Nathan’s damage, Troy had only added another magnetic field to the man for Rachel. Because, as she’d told Nathan, she liked to fix problems, heal wounds, restore happiness. Which was why this situation with Nicole and her parents was a thorn in her side. And why Nathan had, ironically, been the worst possible person for her to hook up with.

The water in his shower shut off, pulling Rachel back to the present, and she crossed the main drive and continued to her cabin.

In a confused, exhausted daze, she moved through the motions of showering, washing her hair, and moisturizing her skin in the only individual residence on the property, a tiny two-room guesthouse she’d tried to assign to Nathan, only to be overruled by Jax.

With a slight second wind, she stood in front of the three-drawer pine dresser with the top drawer open, trying to decide what to wear. Which was ridiculous. No matter what she put on or how she wore her hair or makeup, she’d never compare to the sexpot Darling twins.

“Not all guys like flash.” Nathan’s words floated into her head. “And there’s a lot more to beauty than what’s on the surface.”

She lifted her gaze and scanned her naked reflection in the mirror atop the dresser. Her fingers floated over a red mark Nathan had left on her breast, and her nipple instantly puckered.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. In a few weeks, he’d be gone, and the chances of ever seeing him again were slim. The chances of getting this opportunity with him, even if she did see him again, infinitesimal.

“I can find bunnies anywhere, but there’s only one Rachel Hart.”

Tonight she was going to see if he was a man of his word, or if he used words to his benefit, like the men in her past, because those bunnies would have their magic ramped up to full power and aimed directly at Nathan.

If he had been sincere, she might have to seriously reevaluate her belief system, because there was also only one Nathan Ryker. And only one window of opportunity Rachel would ever get to take him up on this offer. A window that was quickly closing.

Ryker couldn’t say he felt better after the shower, just cleaner. He was still tense, pissed off, horny, hard, and frustrated. The night air felt good on his skin, and he needed the extra chill to keep his temperature down when he saw the light on in Rachel’s cabin. He also needed all his focus to keep his feet headed toward the dining room.

The windows lit up the night, and even from yards away, Ryker could see everyone was there milling around the tables but himself and Rachel—one more reason to get his ass in there. If he and Rachel were going to be MIA at the same time, he wanted to maximize those times for premium sexual exploits.

Wishful thinking. But he was holding on to it.

He joined the group, falling into the food line behind Charlie. The man’s employment application showed him as fifty-eight, but he’d lived hard and looked closer to sixty-eight with leather-like skin, a gray head of hair, and a logger’s beard to match. Still in pretty good shape, if not excellent health from decades of smoking, the retired Marine was one hell of a smart guy. Someone Ryker would learn a lot from.

“If you can set up the explosive lockers tomorrow first thing,” Ryker told Charlie, “it will free me up to work on the action-sequence plan with Rachel.”

“Sure thing,” Charlie said, piling his plate with pizza and grabbing a soda from the cooler. He carried his food toward the end of the table, where Jax and Marx already sat, the roll of bridge plans sitting at the center.

Kelly and Katie came up behind him, picking at salad and chattering about a party they’d been invited to the following week. Something swank and Hollywood.

Ryker picked up another breadstick and dropped it on his plate. He was hungry, but all the stress was making him edgy. One of the twins—he didn’t know which one; they really did look identical—slid her hand through his arm and leaned close. Her very full breasts pressed against his biceps, and the heavy scent of perfume grew even heavier.

They were alone at the table now, Ryker and the twins, everyone else seated. And the woman took the opportunity to pour heat from those huge blue eyes. “Kelly and I are up for a private party tonight, army boy,” she purred, squeezing his biceps. “We’ll show you a real good time.”

His gaze darted to Kelly, standing right behind her sister, her gaze equally seductive as she raised her brows in a what-about-it? expression.

He picked up a brownie with chocolate frosting and glanced over his shoulder, toward the door. “Have you ladies seen Rachel?”

“Ryker,” Kelly crooned, lowering her voice and leaning in to her sister. “What do you say you skip the brownies? Katie and I will give you plenty of sugar tonight.”

A week ago, the offer would have been a bull’s-eye for Ryker. Now, the proposition of a threesome with Hollywood twins made his mind jump to Rachel, not the nearest hotel. Also made him realize he wanted Rachel a hundred times more than he wanted both Katie and Kelly, together.

“Ryker…?”

“That’s an amazing offer, ladies”—he met their eyes—“but it’s not going to work for me. I’m sorta…into someone right now.”

“It’s not Rachel, is it?” Kelly said from behind her sister, a sudden frown of utter disbelief on her face. “Because she doesn’t do Renegades, and, don’t get me wrong, I like Rachel and all, but I don’t see her as enough woman to satisfy you…if you know what I mean.”

Oh, he knew what she meant, but thinking back to his night with Rachel, Ryker knew Kelly couldn’t have been more wrong, because he’d never felt more satisfied.

“No, honey, it’s not Rachel.”

He turned away from the women and started toward the open seat beside Charlie, then looked at Marx. “Jamestown Bridge in Rhode Island, 2006.”