Ricochet (Renegades #3)(85)
Author: Skye Jordan

“Is it…” Carmello’s dark eyes swerved back and collided with Ryker’s, his expression open and so utterly vulnerable. “Is it bad?”

“I got you, bro. You’re okay,” he lied. “Look at me now.”

But Carmello’s gaze slid sideways as if he couldn’t hold focus. “Holy fuck. Holy…where’s my…where’s my arm?”

Mike’s face turned white in an instant. His eyes rolled back. He was fading, dying right in front of Ryker’s eyes. “I need medics!” he screamed, his throat raw. He shook Carmello again. “Eyes here, Carmello. Right here. On me. We’ve got this.”

“Ry?” he asked, his gaze sliding in and out of focus. “I…I can’t feel my legs…”

He lifted his head, trying to sit up. Ryker pushed him back. “Dude, don’t move. Look. At. Me.”

But it was too late. Mike had seen his missing limbs. “Oh my God. Oh my…”

“Hold on, Mikey.” A sob garbled Mike’s name. Hopelessness and helplessness tried to bully their way into Ryker’s heart, but he battled them back. “Medics are coming. I’m right here.”

“No,” Mike croaked, dropping his head back. His eyes fell closed. “Let me go, man. I’m already dead.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He jerked at Mike’s jacket, sobbing the words. Tears burned on his cheeks. “No shit-talk, Carmello.”

“Get out of here, Ry. Not…safe…”

“I’m not leaving you.” He dropped to his ass and gathered Mike into his lap. With his arms steely around his friend, as if that would keep him from slipping away, Ryker pressed his head to Mike’s. “And you’re not fucking leaving me, asshole.”

He lifted his head, took as deep a breath as he could, and screamed, “Medics! I need medics over here!”

“Nathan. Nathan. Look at me.”

He moved away from the soft female voice, so horrifically out of place. Fingers dug into his arms. The ten fingers of two hands.

“It’s Rachel,” she said, her voice firm but filled with understanding, throwing out another red flag. “You’re fine. Mike is alive. You’re home now. Look. At. Me.”

He lifted his arms, breaking her grip and spinning away. His gaze refocused, and Ryker found himself inside a small room. Not in his barracks. His heart pounded as hard and quick as a jackhammer. Sweat covered his body. And he shook with the ice cutting through every inch of his him.

“Just a nightmare,” the woman said behind him, making Ryker swivel toward the bed again. Rachel knelt on the edge, dark hair tousled from sleep.

The instant he saw her, the left side of his body prickled with the imprint of her heat where she’d been curled beside him. His well-trained mind pushed the horror of his past behind, and his body reacted to the sight of her in his T-shirt with a burst of desire deep in his pelvis.

He dropped his face into his hands and rubbed hard. His mind pinged between the nightmare and Ray’s tragedy earlier that night. Then diverted to the image of Rachel in the shower, her white tank a wet second skin, the heat and softness of her pussy in his mouth. Her tangy, edgy taste. The hollowness that filled him wasn’t the least bit interested in sex, but his brain and his body had other ideas.

He growled, dropping his hands and turning his back to her again. “You need to go.”

Her hands slid down his back, and Ryker jumped at the electric touch. “It was just a nightmare,” she said softly. “You’re fine now.”

“I’ll never be fine,” he bit out. He never should have fallen asleep with her. He’d known that. So fucking stupid.

Her shoulders dropped, hands falling into her lap. “We’re not going there again, are we?”

He didn’t understand. His mind was doing that fragmented thing again, pieces disappearing and reappearing like a game of pong.

The covers rustled as she uncurled her legs and stood. She passed him on her way to the bathroom, looking so damned adorable with his T-shirt draping her little body. He had to clench his hands to keep from reaching for her. He wanted to sink deep into her and banish the bubbling anxiety fizzing through his system.

The water ran, and Ryker paced the small room, working to clear his head. But the clearer it became, the more he wanted Rachel.

Something cool and wet touched his neck, and he whirled. Rachel stepped back holding a limp hand towel. She waited, her expression patient. Understanding. Void of pity. That helped him relax.

As soon as his posture softened, she stepped in again. “Let’s cool you off.”

She wiped the wet towel across his chest and up his neck. The chill washed the last fragments of the nightmare from the present, and he exhaled heavily.

Covering her hand with his, he cupped her head with the other, lowered his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” She stroked the towel over his shoulder and down one arm. “I wish there was something I could do for you.”

He absorbed her presence, her scent, the soft heat wafting from her body. Lowering his head, he slid his damp cheek down hers, turned his head, and covered her mouth with his. The first press of her supple lips was like a crisp breeze in the desert, and he sighed with relief. When he deepened the kiss, she kissed him back, but only for a moment before breaking away and pressing one hand to his chest.

“Sit,” she said softly.

He sank to the edge of the bed and gathered her close, his cheek resting against her belly beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. He caught his own scent mingled with hers, and the fire in his groin flared. His cock hardened with the thought of pushing inside her soft, wet heat again. Nothing banished the memory or the pain better.

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, dragging the cool cloth along the back of his shoulders and the nape of his neck, “but you have to see someone about it before you go back, Nathan.”

All his muscles tensed. His eyes opened to the dim room, and a hard ball sank into his gut. He didn’t respond, hoping she let it drop there. Damn, he didn’t want to get into this.

She pulled back, lifted his face with a hand at his jaw. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the emotion, the expectations, the fear on her beautiful face. She wiped his face, and the cool relief made him sigh again. He slid his hands down her back, over the sweet curve of her ass, and squeezed. Pulling her in, he scraped his teeth over the T-shirt along her belly and groaned.