Ricochet (Renegades #3)(72)
Author: Skye Jordan

“I want what I want too, but I’m not willing to hurt other people to get it. Especially not the people I love.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I just can’t risk that and live with myself.”

She pushed the door open and slid out.

“Rach—”

The door shut, and she walked toward her cabin without looking back, that stubborn stiffness in her shoulders.

Ryker leaned into the arm curved over the wheel and dropped his head. “Shit.”

He pulled the key out of the ignition, stood from the car, and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he looked toward her cabin, where the light flipped on. In his pocket, something stiff rubbed his fingers. He pulled out a business card and glanced at the name of Carmello’s psychiatrist, then shoved it away again. Ryker was too damn far gone for a shrink.

He’d given this thing with Rachel his best shot. And with no idea how he was going to bridge this gap between them, he thought it might just be time to let it go.

18

Rachel rubbed tired eyes with one hand and held the phone to her ear with the other. “Out? What do you mean you’re out of detonation cord? You’re an explosives supplier, how can you be out of one of the most basic elements of blasting?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the woman on the other end of the phone said, her voice growing terse with Rachel’s increasing impatience. “The manufacturer had an issue with the supplies to make the cord. It’s on backorder until—”

“Forget it,” Rachel said. “I need it now. Thanks anyway.”

She hung up, annoyed at herself for being rude. One of the stockyard managers pounded into Rachel’s office with dirty boots trailing mud across the carpet. “Hey, Rach, you seen Ryker?”

Her hands curled into fists. “That is about the twentieth time someone has asked me that today, Ken No, I haven’t seen him. He’s been up on the bridge all day.”

“Still up there?” Ken asked, his face twisting in disbelief. “He’s the hardest damned working blaster I ever met.”

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that. Grab some dinner, Ken. He’ll show up in the dining hall soon.”

Ken stomped out of the office, letting the door slam behind him. Rachel flinched and gritted her teeth. What was it about men that made them incapable of shutting a door quietly?

She was grateful Josh was gone today, or she might have bitten his head off.

On a controlled exhale, she flipped her Rolodex to the name of a more expensive explosives supplier and punched in the number. They, thank God, had the det cord Nathan wanted. While she was on the phone, one of the chef’s assistants, a pretty, twenty-something redhead, popped in. Rachel placed her order for the det cord and requested next-day delivery.

As soon as she got off the phone, she greeted the girl. “Hi, Paige, what can I do for you?”

“Hi, Rachel. Do you know where Ryker is?” Her wide smile made Rachel want to grind her teeth. “I made a special dessert tonight—lemon merengue pie. He said it’s his favorite.”

“Really.” Rachel propped her chin in her hand, wholly annoyed Nathan had this cute little thing baking special desserts for him. “I understood he loved chocolate.”

“Oh.” Her smile dropped, and concern pulled her brow. “Oh no. We were chatting the other day, and he—”

“I’m sure he’ll love the pie, Paige,” Rachel said, feeling guilty for making the sweet thing worry. It wasn’t her fault Nathan was too delicious for his own good. “Who couldn’t love both lemon and chocolate, right?”

“Right.” She smiled again, but this time not as forcefully. “If you see him—”

“I’ll be sure and let him know.”

But the lack of sleep had caused her memory to slip today. No one could blame her if she just…forgot to mention the perky little Paige…or her lemon merengue. Right?

Paige left the office far more quietly than Ken. Rachel turned to her computer and opened a cost-analysis file to check on the budget after paying bills and placing orders today.

Her phone rang. Rachel’s nerves frayed, leaving only a thread, and she glared at the phone before snapping it up. “This is Rachel.”

“Hey, honey.” Charlie’s voice filled the line. “Has Ryker come down from the bridge yet?”

Rachel’s teeth clenched, and pain shot through her jaw.

Don’t shoot the messenger.

She glanced at the clock over the door. Nearly six. She propped her elbows on her desk and pressed her fingers to her eyes. Christ, she was so tired she felt brittle. She hadn’t slept at all last night after leaving Nathan standing at the truck, wanting something she couldn’t give him. Hadn’t slept the night before after the awesome sex he’d delivered and the almost-catastrophe of Jax and Josh discovering them together. Hell, she felt like she hadn’t slept since he walked into her life last week.

Last week?

How had she gotten so wound up over a man after just a week?

“Doesn’t Ryker have a phone? And a radio?” she asked. “Why does everyone keep calling me to ask where he is? How would I know where the man is when I’ve been trapped in this office all day and he’s been out working in the fresh air and sunshine?”

“Oooh,” Charlie drew out. “Sounds like you need a vacation, sweet pea. No worries. I’ll find the bugger.”

And he hung up. Rachel dropped the phone, and it clattered on her desk. She drove all ten fingers into her hair and growled.

Her phone rang again. She popped her head up. “Jesus. It rings even when it’s off the hook.”

The multiline system rolled calls over to the second line when the first was in use, and she snapped up the receiver, then jabbed at the button lighting up the second line. “This is Rachel, and no, I do not know where the hell Ryker is.”

A moment of silence, then, “Uuuum, I’m just calling to tell you that someone just passed through the gates looking for you.”

It was Tommy, the guy working night security. Rachel winced and pinched the bridge of her nose. Tears of fatigue and frustration burned her eyes. “I’m sorry, Tommy. Who is it?”

“She said she’s your sister? A Nicole, I think it was. But she doesn’t look nothin’ like you.”

Rachel’s eyes popped open. Alarm burned her chest. “What in the hell?”

“She didn’t say why she was here. I just pointed her toward the office. Sorry if I—”