Ricochet: Extraction Point

by Heather C. Leigh

  “It’s… it’s from a law office. In San Antonio.”

  Rick’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to figure out the importance of that city. She knew the moment he made the connection because his brilliant eyes turned hard and cold.

  “Travis,” he said, his mouth in a tight line.

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe he signed the divorce papers.” Rick and Quinn turned simultaneously to stare at Tucker as if the man had two heads. Not normally good with reading social cues, Tucker had no problem figuring out that he wasn’t needed in this particular conversation. “Uhhh, I forgot… ummmm, I have something to do.” The man bolted for the door and was gone, leaving Rick and Quinn alone with the letter.

  “He’s right, doll. It could be the divorce.”

  Rick’s steady hands smoothed up and down Quinn’s back, grounding her, keeping her from freaking out.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sit,” Rick instructed, leading her back to her chair. He took Tucker’s recently vacated seat and waited for Quinn to open the letter.

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered.

  He reached over and took her hand. “I’m here. You never have to be afraid again.”

  Quinn managed a weak smile, then ripped open the envelope. As she scanned the pages, her heart went into overtime, hammering against her chest with enough force that Quinn thought it might break free. She read them again. Then one more time. Numb, she lowered the papers in disbelief.

  “What? What is it?” When Rick snatched the papers out of her hand, Quinn didn’t react. She couldn’t react. She didn’t know how to react. It was the best news and the worst news all rolled into one fancy, expensive, watermarked letter.

  A loud laugh broke Quinn from her daze.

  “He’s dead! This is great.” Rick’s brilliant smile did nothing to assuage Quinn’s dread. “You’re done. We’re done. It’s all over, doll. Don’t you see?”

  Quinn watched as Rick’s levity faded with her lack of response.

  “Why aren’t you happy? Isn’t this the best possible outcome? Quinn?”

  Mechanically, she spoke, her tone flat and unemotional.

  Keep it together, Quinn. You don’t know who did it yet. It may not be what you think.

  “I need to be alone for a while.”

  Rick jumped up from his chair, ready to protest.

  “Rick! Please. I’m asking you for half an hour to let this sink in.” She turned her best doe eyed look on her lover, knowing he wouldn’t say no when she did that.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, running a hand across the back of his neck. “Twenty minutes. Then we’re talking.” Rick dropped the letter on the desk and stalked out of the room.

  She knew he was confused by her reaction, but he’d get over it. Right now, Quinn needed to prove to herself that she was wrong about Travis’ death.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled up a search engine on her computer. Typing quickly and referencing the date and city on the letter, Quinn quickly found several articles of interest. She clicked the first one, reading it multiple times. Blinking back tears, Quinn clicked another article, then another… she clicked and read until moisture blurred her vision.

  “No… he wouldn’t. He promised.”

  Realizing how ridiculous she sounded talking to herself, she wiped the tears away with her sleeve. Quinn printed the original article and laid it on Tucker’s desk, then deleted her search history. She couldn’t ignore the fact that Travis was killed during the time that Rick had gone missing. Time he hadn’t explained to her or anyone else. Ten minutes until he came back into the room, and Rick was nothing if not punctual— early even.

  No, no, no, no, no!

  She should have known Rick wouldn’t let it go. Not after what Travis did, leaving Rick to pick up her broken pieces and put her back together. Six minutes.

  Quinn was torn. Half of her was so relieved that Travis was dead that it didn’t matter how it happened. The other half of her was horrified and pretty pissed off that Rick would go behind her back against her wishes. Two minutes.

  Just as she thought, the door burst open with time to spare, a very agitated former Recon Marine storming towards her with a grimace on his face.

  “So… what? What’s going on here, Quinn?”

  She flinched at his harsh tone, trying not to take it to heart. It was concern and fear making him prickly, not anger. He wasn’t like Travis and never would be. He would never hurt her… not intentionally.

  “I— I…” The words died on the tip of her tongue. Tears spilled over and down her cheeks. She had to decide whether or not Rick was worth it. Could she overlook what he did? Right now, she didn’t have the answer. “I need more time.” With that, she jumped up, snatched the printed article off the desk, and bolted from the room. Quinn heard Rick calling out for her, but she kept going until she was safe behind her the locked door of her apartment.

  Thankfully, for once, Rick didn’t follow.

  A few hours later, curled up on her couch, freshly showered and drinking a cup of herbal tea, Quinn reread the article over and over until she had it all but memorized. The chime of yet another text message from Rick interrupted her churning thoughts.

 

  He was wearing down her resolve. She knew it, so why keep the charade going? Quinn knew without a doubt she was going to forgive Rick even if the crime itself was unforgivable. One last time, she read the article detailing the death of a John Doe just outside of Oklahoma City, dated three weeks ago.

  UNIDENTIFIED MAN FOUND SHOT AND KILLED

  Norman, OK — Police responded to a 911 call late yesterday morning after an employee at the Motel 6 on Whitten St. reported finding a dead body in one of the rooms.

  Officers discovered the victim, a Caucasian male, thought to be in his mid to late twenties. According to a source, the man appeared to have died from a single gunshot wound to the head. Forensics later confirmed that the bullet most likely came from a long-range, sniper-style rifle. The lethal accuracy, with the nearest possible shooting position almost 1000 meters away, along with a small hole in the window of the motel room, leads police to believe that the gunman has a military background, most likely as a sniper or Special Forces operative.

  Charles Dooley, the detective assigned to the case, states that for now the victim is being treated as a John Doe. There was no identification found on the body or anywhere in the room. The fact that there was no trace of drugs or other criminal activity at the scene, suggests that the murder was most likely personal in nature.

  Chief medical examiner Greg Foley said pending toxicology results, the manner of death is most likely the gunshot wound to the head. Police plan to release a sketch of the man as soon as possible to help with identification. If anyone you know fitting the victim’s description has gone missing, please contact the Oklahoma City Police Department, Homicide, at …

  Quinn closed her eyes, letting out a breath with a shudder. Now she had a letter from Travis’s lawyer saying that since they were still legally married, she inherited all of his possessions, including that horrible house in Bandera County. She was about to go to bed, her head and heart hurting from the day’s events, when she received another text from Rick.

 

  Quinn stared at the text, not blinking until her eyes dried up. Then, it hit her. She snorted when she realized she was having a moment, like the ones in movies—a bolt of lightning right from the sky jolting her to reality. It spoke to her, plainly. Clearly.

  It doesn’t matter.

  She didn’t need or want to know if Rick found Travis and killed him with a sniper rifle while her ex sat on a bed in a crummy motel. Rick loved her and she loved him, everything else she would just have to take on faith. Something she never had much use for until now.

  If Rick said he didn’t kill Travis, well, that would have to be enough for her because if she couldn’t trust h
im to tell her the truth, she couldn’t trust him with her life and her heart. And she did. She had already given Rick both her life and her heart to keep safe and he took the job very, very seriously.

  If she doesn’t answer in the next three minutes, I swear I’m going to lose my mind.

  Rick was just about to say ‘fuck it’ and head up to Quinn’s apartment, demanding that she discuss this when his phone chimed.

 

  Well thank fuck for that.

  He let out a huge breath, finally relaxing after being all tensed up since Quinn fled Mission Control. Rick wasn’t sure if Quinn would have appreciated him busting her door down. He had to make her believe him. He had had no idea Travis was dead, let alone killed the man. Yeah, he could see how she would think that, the way her ex died. But that piece of shit wasn’t worth losing Quinn over. No way.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, Rick was knocking on Quinn’s door less than a minute after receiving her text. When it opened, Quinn surprised the hell out of him by leaping into his arms.

  “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter, Rick. I love you. Nothing will change that.” Her voice hitched. “I was wrong. I’ll love you no matter what.”

  Rick clutched on to her, her words hitting him right in his previously cold, unfeeling heart. “I love you too, doll. So much. But–”

  “Shhhhh.” Quinn pulled back, just far enough to see his face. “That’s all I need to know.”

  He nodded, not willing to ruin the moment by speaking.

  She smiled. That gorgeous, warm smile of hers that sent sparks down his spine every time he saw it.

  “I’m hungry, let’s get pizza.”

  Rick laughed. “Whatever you want, doll. Anything. I’d do anything for you.”

  Her smile faded, becoming serious. “I know you would. That’s why I love you so much.”

  He would too. He’d walk to the ends of the earth to make her happy. His brother was right. All it took was a tiny girl with big amber eyes to make him see that everything he knew was a lie. Love was real. Quinn was real. And hopefully, he’d never find out what it was like to lose her. That cold unfeeling heart was now beating warmth and love through his veins. Until it happened, he never would have thought it possible, Ricochet finally hit a target.

  Six months later

  “Tucker, I’ve got this. You can go home you know.”

  Quinn glanced over at her coworker, who looked absolutely exhausted after staying up for the past thirty-six hours straight.

  “The mission is done, Ben and Dane are on their way home, so there’s no reason for you to be here.”

  Tucker threw his Bluetooth on his desk and stood, raking a hand through his ever-messy brown hair. “I guess you’re right.” He stretched, letting out a huge yawn.

  “I usually am.”

  The normally reserved man grinned. “Yeah, you are.” He patted her shoulder as he made his way to the door. “Thanks, Quinn. I’ll see you tomorrow at the debriefing.”

  “Bye Tucker.”

  The door to Mission Control closed with a soft click. Quinn sighed, letting her head rest on the back of her chair. She closed her eyes, her thoughts wandering, as they always tended to do, to Rick.

  Her Rick. Ricochet was gone, replaced by a caring man who loved Quinn and showed it to her each and every day. At Rick’s insistence, she had moved out of the tiny apartment above the gym into his condo. They spent every night together anyway, so he didn’t have to push his argument very hard to convince her.

  Yes, she worried when he was away on missions, but that was his job. When he got wind of her computer skills, Mack promoted her to work in Mission Control. Being a part of the operations helped to ease some of her anxiety, even though Tucker still ran the ground ops while she was relegated to intel. Quinn had no clue how Mara could stand it, watching her husband leave with no idea where he went or if he was coming back.

  Unfortunately, part of her job still included doing invoicing and mindless computer work, and she was way behind. Tapping, she pulled up the spreadsheets and started entering figures. Half an hour later, Quinn froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. All of the blood left her face, rushing to her toes, sending a body-wracking shiver through her. Her heart stuttered, struggling to keep her mind functioning after such a shock to the system.

  No. It can’t be. It can’t. No way.

  Quickly, she pulled up another file, scanning it quickly. Then another. She finally had the proof she had insisted she didn’t need.

  I don’t believe it.

  Quinn couldn’t help but whisper to herself. “Holy shit.”

  Intending to get some answers, Quinn left the room, walking down the hall in a haze of disbelief. She stopped at Mack’s office, knocking quietly before entering.

  “Hey Quinn. Tucker said the mission was a success and that the guys should be home by twenty-three hundred hours.”

  Nodding, she took a good look at Mack, the man her father knew for over twenty years. He was gazing at Quinn fondly, his dark eyes alight with something akin to love.

  Suddenly, the confrontation she had planned out in her head didn’t seem right. “You— you and my dad were really close, weren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. There was no question of Mack’s loyalty to her father.

  Mack looked a little surprised at her question, but he smiled kindly. “He was like a brother to me. Being in the marines wasn’t much different than it is here at Sanctum, Quinn. Everyone takes care of everyone else… like family.”

  She swallowed loudly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

  “Quinn—”

  Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet Mack’s. This man who took her in when she had no one, who cared when no one else did… he loved her like his own.

  “I would do anything for family, Quinn. Anything.”

  Staring at each other, they exchanged a sort of silent agreement. Each one of them understanding what the other wasn’t saying.

  “I’m almost done with invoicing. It’s taking a while since I’m a few months behind. When I’m finished, I think I’m going to head home.”

  Mack leaned back in his chair, his lips curved up in the corners. “No problem. Go home with your soldier.” He winked at her before turning back to his paperwork.

  “Thanks Mack. For— for everything.”

  Quinn left Mack’s office, returning to her seat in front of the bank of powerful computers. Slowly, methodically, Quinn brought up each invoice from six months ago.

  She clicked on the receipt for a round trip plane ticket from Atlanta to Oklahoma City in Mack’s name and moved it to the trash bin.

  Next, a document detailing the special luggage Mack checked on the flight, and the legal paperwork to own the specialized weapon followed.

  Then she did the same for a receipt for a rental car in his name from a Hertz near the Oklahoma City airport.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Quinn continued until all of the evidence was gone. Had he meant for her to find it? She didn’t know. Mack knew she did the receipts, so she could only assume he either did it on purpose or he didn’t think about it. Mack was not a stupid man.

  Done clearing out the files, she left the room, heading out into the gym to locate Rick. She found him showing a young fighter how to protect his head from different punches, helping him arrange his fists the proper way. Grinning, she watched as he worked, how his strong muscles flexed and contracted. When the men stopped for a quick drink, Rick spotted Quinn watching him and smiled, his entire face lighting up. He said something to the young man and trotted over to see her.

  “Hey, doll.”

  “Hey. I’m done. What are your plans?”

  “I was going to do a quick round in the cage with Joey, then I’m good to go. Is that okay?”

  Fighting didn’t bother Quinn anymore. These were good men who used their skills to help people, not hurt them. She was finally able to see the beauty in their movem
ents as they hit the bags or circled each other in the cage. Quinn threw her arms around Rick’s neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss.

  “I’ll wait as long as you promise to shower with me at home.”

  The sexy smirk she got in return made everything worth it. Every day she endured with Travis, every new women’s shelter she had to stay in, everything she did in order to survive each day— it all led her here, to this perfect man. A man who made her happier than she could ever remember being.

  “I think I can agree to those terms,” he growled in her ear.

  A voice from across the gym called out, interrupting their moment. “Ricochet! Come on man. Are we doing this?”

  Rick ducked his head and kissed her again, whispering against her lips. “Oh yeah, we’re definitely doing this.” His lust-filled eyes bore into hers before he released her, jogging back to his student.

  “Yes, yes we are doing this,” Quinn said to herself. She sat and watched proudly as her man stepped up into the octagon, gorgeous and agile and completely sure of himself. As Rick bounced around the cage, taunting the younger fighter and the other guys crowded around to shout out encouragements, Quinn knew what home felt like. It was love and friendship and security— even if it smelled like old socks and sweaty men, it was the most comforting place she’d known and she was glad for every single minute she spent there. Quinn closed her eyes, silently wishing her father could be with her.

  Thank you daddy, for guiding me here and giving me a second chance at having a real family.

  Then Quinn stood up, walked over to the cage, and cheered on her man.

  And… I’m Done!

  Whew! Ricochet was a tough book to write. I’m glad I did it and I love my characters, but it was difficult to stay on track. On the positive side I found out a few things about myself….