Ricochet (Renegades #3)(54)
Author: Skye Jordan

“See everyone tomorrow,” she called, turning and pushing out the door with her shoulder. “Call if anyone needs anything.”

Disappointment tugged at Ryker’s gut. He turned back to his drink, crushed the lime into the amber liquid, and drained the cup, then refilled.

14

“Love you, Mom,” Rachel said, leaning her head back against the wooden rocking chair in the cabin’s tiny living room-slash-kitchen. “I promise I’ll come home when this job is finished.”

Her mother didn’t like it, but she agreed, and Rachel disconnected. She set her cell on a side table, tucked one foot beneath her, lifted her other foot to the seat of the rocking chair, and wrapped her arms around her leg. With her chin on her knee, she rocked gently in the dark cabin, listening to the quiet night sounds through the open window. The night air was crisp and clean and so incredibly soothing.

Only Rachel wasn’t relaxed. She was restless waiting for Nathan to come out of the dining room. She’d convinced herself he’d be walking with a blonde on each arm. Almost convinced herself she was ready to see it, even though when she’d headed to dinner tonight, she’d been building the guts to go after him. Then she’d seen Katie hanging on him through the lighted windows, and knew the twins had made their interest in him clear.

The dining room’s screen door squeaked open, and voices floated out, then it closed with a rough, wooden slam, making Rachel flinch. But Ray and Brad, two of the construction workers, stepped out and chatted their way toward the cabin they were sharing about two hundred yards behind Rachel’s little house. As soon as they disappeared inside, the night went quiet again.

She continued to rock, taking her thumbnail between her teeth. She really should be editing the SOP. In fact, she should be listening to them talk about the action plan so she could help Nathan write it tomorrow. They didn’t have much time to get it together and past the city and the insurance company, not to mention Josh, before they needed to get the blasting underway.

Josh. Man, she’d never thought he’d rub her wrong, but the way he acted with Nathan…

The screen door groaned again, and Rachel’s gaze focused on the dining room. Nathan stepped out, and just as Rachel had suspected, he had an arm around the shoulders of each twin. Her lungs froze. Her heart dropped. They were giggling, both holding him around the middle, their hands roaming, making Rachel’s own hands fist.

“He’s been doing it with a different woman every night for the last month in New Orleans.”

Troy’s words burned down the center of her chest. She knew Nathan was a player. Had known from their phone call before she’d ever met him. And just because he still wanted Rachel didn’t mean he’d stopped wanting other women. He’d never alluded to exclusivity. She’d just attached her own preconceived value judgment.

The threesome steered toward the cabin the twins were sharing at the end of a long row, out of Rachel’s sight, but she stared at the corner of the building where she’d lost visibility of them for a long time, trying to get her mind around the next couple of weeks working with him, knowing he’d fucked those two upside down and sideways.

She shook her head and looked down at her hands wringing each other, then suddenly relaxed. And accepted the reality. Yes, this was what hookups were all about—the freedom to change partners at a whim. No commitments. No worries. No hurt feelings. No lies. No secrets.

Rachel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes were damp, but she didn’t let tears accumulate. This was good. Another life lesson. She had quite a few coming, considering she’d lived so little of life up to this point.

She gripped the arms of the rocker and stood, holding on until she stopped wavering. She really had loaded up that drink with quite a bit of vodka. Fortunately, that made her a little bit numb. Unfortunately, it also made her a lot horny.

“Ryker.”

The male voice calling Nathan’s name made Rachel stop on her way to the bedroom and look out the window again. Nathan stood at the edge of her view, hands in his pockets, head down, walking in the direction of his cabin, but stopped and turned when he heard his name.

“I’m tired, Marx. Whatever you want to talk about can wait until tomorrow.” Nathan sounded more than tired. He sounded discouraged and blue.

“It can if you want me to bring this up in front of other people.” Josh sauntered into Rachel’s view, and a sick feeling sank in her gut.

She stepped up to the window and curled her fingers around the frame.

“What now?” Nathan asked, pulling his hands from his pockets to plant them at his hips.

“Kandahar,” Josh said.

Nathan’s shoulders inched higher.

“Tell me about that,” Josh pushed.

Nathan closed the distance between them. He leaned in until they were nose to nose. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

His voice was low, measured, filled with warning and pain. Pain that reached into Rachel’s chest and squeezed until she found it hard to breathe.

“It is if it compromises safety,” Josh said.

Nathan eased back and crossed his arms but said nothing.

“That was a very bad incident,” Josh said.

“Just how the fuck do you know about anything?”

“Contacts.”

“Your contacts are worth shit.”

“Actually,” he said, “my contacts are extremely reliable.”

“Then you don’t need me to tell you about it.”

“I’d like to hear your side. Hear how you believe it wasn’t your fault. Because I can’t figure that out from the information I got.”

Nathan lunged for Josh and grabbed the other man’s shirt. The movement was so fast, Rachel didn’t see anything but a blur between the second Nathan dropped his arms and the moment he had Josh nearly pulled off his feet by the shirt.

“It wasn’t my fault.” He thrust Josh back so far, Rachel had to move to the edge of the window and put her face to the screen to see where he’d landed. “And I sure as shit don’t have to prove that to you.”

Josh sauntered back into view, hands down at his sides. “Then why’d your CO force you to take a leave?”

“Because I haven’t been back to the States in two years.”

“Sure it wasn’t because you aren’t mentally stable enough to stay out on the line?”

“Shut your mouth before you can’t talk anymore, Marx.”