Ricochet: Locked & Loaded

by Heather C. Leigh

  She shook her head, setting her radio to a hits station. Quinn started with push-ups, then progressed to jumping rope, a routine she used to do in Texas without telling Travis. He would have beaten her if he knew she was exercising behind his back. He wanted to keep her weak and dependent. The thought made her push harder, work to be stronger, to never allow a man to control her again.

  About twenty minutes into her workout, Quinn had worked up a good sweat and was starting to feel the natural high as the endorphins flooded her body. She stopped to grab a sip of water when she heard a knock at the door.

  She froze.

  Her old friend fear reared its ugly head again, clenching tight in her gut, forcing her heart to race and her breathing to pick up. The same paranoid thoughts that plagued her since she left Texas filled her head. Is it Travis? Did he find me? Will he finally kill me?

  Even sweaty and hot from her workout, chills broke out all over her body. A voice called out from the other side of the door.

  “Doll. It’s Rick.

  RICK SMILED AS he stood on the small landing just outside of the tiny apartment above Sanctum. He could hear loud music playing inside, some top forty crap. What was Quinn doing— dancing, singing, cleaning while dancing and singing?

  The locks disengaged and the door swung wide open. Rick nearly choked on his tongue at the sight in front of him. Quinn was standing on the threshold with a light sheen of sweat on her body, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, and wearing only a tiny blue sports bra and a pair of shorts so small they couldn’t possibly be legal to wear out in public.

  Holy hell, I’m going to croak right here on her doorstep.

  “Rick. What are you doing here?” Quinn’s amber eyes shone, but her face looked confused.

  “Ummmm,” Jesus. He couldn’t think with her half naked and within arms length, it was too damn distracting. Her pale thighs were smooth and toned. All he could imagine was having them wrapped around his waist. “I uh, I mean… shit. I was going to bring you to the store again. If… if you wanted, I mean.”

  Damn, I sound like a complete and total idiot.

  Quinn’s already flushed cheeks turned an even darker shade of crimson as he stammered in her doorway. Her eyes cast downward until she was staring at her own feet. Rick marveled over how long and thick her eyelashes were against her pale skin. Her lush pink mouth captivated him as she licked her lips nervously.

  This was a bad idea. His dick had a mind of it’s own whenever he was around Quinn and it was beginning to throb inside his jeans. He hadn’t gotten off since the pathetically unsatisfying experience on Sunday night and jerking in the shower at work and his cock was taking notice.

  “You came here just to see if I needed another ride?”

  Once again, when Quinn’s shy but pleased gaze lifted to Rick’s face, it hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d seen his share of beautiful women, hell, he’d had his share of beautiful women. But nothing he’d seen in his twenty-eight years would ever compare to the absolute perfection of Quinn Wallace.

  Mesmerized, Rick could only nod.

  The small smile she rewarded him with made his discomfort totally worth it. Like another hit of an addict’s favorite drug, Rick would probably give anything to see her smile more often. Quinn always looked sad, weary. Giving her a little bit of happiness, if only for something as simple as grocery shopping, seemed like a fair trade for a constant, aching hard-on, the inability to enjoy his usual no strings sex, and never ending mental torture.

  “Yeah, I came to see if you needed another ride. Is that alright with you, doll?”

  Quinn’s gorgeous face relaxed, her smile becoming wider. There were those adorable crinkles around her eyes again. “Yes, it’s fine. Let me just throw on a shirt. Uh, come in and just… wait here.”

  He was pleased that she finally stopped telling him not to call her doll. She was a doll, his doll. Rick watched her tight ass as she scurried off to what he assumed was her bedroom. He groaned at the thought of her and her ass anywhere near a bed. As surreptitiously as possible, he adjusted his painful hard on.

  Get your shit together, Brennan.

  Minutes later, Quinn emerged with a small pink shirt pulled over her sports bra. She was still wearing the tiny, cheek hugging shorts. As he followed her out of the apartment, her delectable back end swaying with each step, Rick wondered if he had lost his fucking mind.

  Chapter 7

  AFTER RICK UNEXPECTEDLY showed up at her place again on Saturday, Quinn found herself looking forward to seeing him at work on Monday, which was totally unlike her. The old her anyway, the one Travis broke. Rick was a lot of fun, he was easy to be around, and he said cute things that made her feel warm inside, like “doll” and “be good”. So what if he was a charmer, or enjoyed random sex? He wasn’t her boyfriend. She could be friends with him without caving to her desire to find out first hand what Rick was like in bed.

  Resigned to the friend zone, where it was safe, Quinn was able to let herself be more comfortable around Rick. He gave her the confidence to be free again. She breezed through the front door of the gym, smiling the entire way to the break room.

  “Quinn, you look good today.”

  Sitting at the table was Xander Vega, one of the fighters that she found incredibly intimidating her first week at Sanctum.

  Was that only three weeks ago?

  Who was she kidding? She found all of the fighters intimidating. But after speaking with Xander several times since then, Quinn decided that he was a great guy. In fact, all of the guys at Sanctum were pretty awesome. Big and threatening looking, yes, but gentle and kind and respectful whenever they spoke to her. They really were a family here, looking out for each other all of the time. It felt good to be a part of that. She was almost okay with watching them train, as long as they were hitting equipment and not other people.

  “Hi Xander. Thanks. I think I finally know what I’m doing around here. You’re probably just noticing the fact that I’m not walking around confused all the time.”

  Quinn brewed a pot of coffee, pouring herself a cup when it was done. She quietly stirred in two sugars before taking a sip.

  “Maybe,” Xander finally said. His sharp gaze focused on Quinn, scanning her up and down. She shifted uncomfortably, but knew that he wasn’t being pervy. He was trying to uncover the source of her giant smile.

  “I’ll figure it out, Quinn. You can’t hide it from me.” He tapped his finger on the side of his nose as he studied her.

  Quinn smirked at Xander, taking another sip of coffee. Her silence made him laugh. He pushed up from the table, crossing to the door in three large strides.

  “You’re a trip, Quinn. I gotta go. I have a client in five minutes.”

  “See ya, Xander.”

  He waggled his fingers over his head without turning back.

  Quinn leaned against the counter, thinking back to her weekend with Rick. He was a perfect gentleman on Saturday, taking her to the store, opening doors for her, helping her carry her groceries up to the apartment. Well, a perfect gentleman if you don’t count the few times she caught him staring at her ass and the fact that he flirted like he was training for an Olympic event.

  Then there was the fact that she could make Rick blush. It was astounding. Rick… the huge, intimidating, badass former Marine and fighter actually blushed when he realized he’d been busted eye-fucking her.

  Amazingly, Quinn wasn’t bothered by his blatant appreciation. It had been so long since a man, or anyone for that matter, looked at her with anything but disgust or ownership. Once she got past her initial discomfort at being flirted with, she ate up the attention that had been severely lacking in her life up to now. The knowledge that they would remain as friends went a long way to helping her relax in his presence.

  By the end of the workday, a dark cloud had replaced Quinn’s good mood. Even though she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t miserable by the fact that Rick didn’t show up at the gym today, she knew d
eep down that his absence was the reason for her sour attitude.

  Rick wasn’t at work Tuesday either. By Wednesday, Quinn was positively depressed. She found that she missed him way more than she should, way more than she was comfortable with. In a mere three weeks, Rick had somehow wormed his way into her life and was now lodged firmly under her skin.

  Quinn was sitting at her desk on Thursday when a tall blonde woman walked into the lobby.

  “Can I help you?”

  The woman smiled at Quinn. She was genuine and warm. “I’m here to see Clint.”

  “Okay, I’ll track him down.” Quinn reached for the phone, but the woman stopped her.

  “Don’t worry, he knows I’m here. I texted him.” She held up her cell phone, shaking it at Quinn. “You’re new, right? I’m Mara Paxton, Clint’s wife. I was in the area so we’re grabbing lunch.”

  Wife?

  The surprise Quinn felt must have shown on her face.

  Mara laughed— a big, no holds-barred laugh, all white teeth with her head thrown back. “I’m guessing you didn’t know he was married.”

  Quinn felt her cheeks heat up. “I never really thought about it. I mean… I don’t spend a lot of time with the guys or in the gym. I wasn’t, you know, interested in your husband that way.”

  Mara snorted and laughed again. “Oh Quinn, I didn’t think that. You’re funny. We should hang out sometime.” She dug through her purse, pulling out a business card that she handed to Quinn. “Here, call me. We’ll get lunch or something.”

  Quinn took the card just as the inner door opened. Clint came striding across the lobby, wrapping his perfectly sculpted arms around his wife.

  “Hey Mar, ready to go? I could eat a horse right about now.” The tall, bulky man tucked Mara into his side. She beamed up at him, her eyes shining with love.

  “Yeah babe. I’m ready.” Mara turned to Quinn. “I was just telling Quinn that me and her should hang out sometime.”

  “Oh?” Clint ran a hand through his short, strawberry blonde hair. “That’s good. Quinn’s new to the city, right?” He looked at Quinn expectantly.

  “Ummmm, yeah. I am. New that is. To Atlanta, not to Georgia. I grew up an hour north of here.” Quinn wanted to smack herself in the head. She knew better than to give out any information that could link her back to Travis, no matter how unlikely.

  Mara clasped her hands together, bouncing on her toes. “How great! I’m from Virginia. We only moved here last year. You could probably show me a few places that I don’t know about.”

  Quinn blinked, stunned into silence by Mara’s bubbly insistence that they would be friends. She finally spoke after Clint raised an expectant eyebrow at her. “Uh, okay. Sure.”

  “We’ll see you later, Quinn,” Clint said as the couple headed for the door.

  “Oh, Clint. I forgot to ask. Do you know where Rick has been? Is he sick or something?” Quinn felt ridiculous asking, but decided that Clint was the one to ask. He would be least likely to make a big deal of it since he hadn’t really been around the last two weeks and didn’t know she had been spending time with Rick. She knew the men traveled for training, but she hadn’t seen Rick on the schedule.

  Clint twitched. Just a fraction, but enough that Quinn noticed.

  “Ricochet? He’s touring with one of the UFC guys. Some last minute thing in Vegas or something for a fight. He’ll be back next week I think. Not sure.” Quinn nodded in agreement, because she didn’t know what to say.

  Ricochet? Quinn had no idea what that meant or why Clint would call Rick that. She noticed Rick had an irritating, yet somehow endearing habit of giving everyone around him a nickname, but this was the first she heard of anyone using one on Rick.

  “C’mon Clint. I’m hungry.” Mara tugged on her husband’s hand, leading him towards the door. “See you later Quinn!”

  A soft breeze blew in the front door and they were gone.

  QUINN WAITED NERVOUSLY at the bar, her eyes jumping to the door every minute or so. She sipped her drink slowly, not wanting to get drunk before her companion arrived. Her tolerance for being out was wearing thin, especially since in the mere fifteen minutes since she walked through the door of Fado’s Irish Pub, no fewer than six guys had hit on her. The bus she had to take to get here dropped her off earlier than she had liked, but the next bus would have been too late to be on time.

  “Quinn!”

  Quinn jerked her head up and saw Mara Paxton making a beeline for her, weaving gracefully through the Friday happy hour crowd.

  “Hey girl! You look great!” Mara beamed as she pulled Quinn into a hug.

  “Thanks, uh… you too.” Quinn cursed herself for sounding so stupid. After two years of Travis, her conversational skills were sorely lacking.

  “I’m glad you called me. Clint is working this weekend, some out of town client he has to see. It gets so boring without him around.”

  “Can I get you a drink?” A cute bartender put a napkin in front of Mara.

  “Sure gorgeous, I’ll have a rum and Coke.”

  “No problem.” He nodded, checked that Quinn’s beer was still full, and went to mix Mara’s drink.

  “Rum and Coke at an Irish pub?” Quinn asked.

  Mara grinned. “I like what I like.” She shrugged and pointed at Quinn’s dark Guinness. “And I definitely don’t like that.” Her face twisted up as if she smelled something bad.

  “Here you are.” The bartender put Mara’s drink down in front of her, winking at Quinn. “Let me know if either of you ladies needs anything.”

  Mara gave Quinn a “he’s so cute and he’s totally hitting on you” look that Quinn promptly ignored. Yeah, he was good looking, dark hair, green eyes, nice body from what Quinn could see, but picking up a guy in a bar? Too cliché for her, not to mention scary.

  Holding up her glass, Mara smiled at Quinn. “To new friends.”

  “I can drink to that.” Quinn grinned, clinking her beer with Mara’s rum and Coke.

  “So, what’s it like working with all those hot, ripped guys? I bet you can hardly focus on your job, what with them half-naked and sweaty all the time.”

  Quinn snorted beer through her nose, coughing and sputtering until Mara handed her a napkin with a wicked grin on her face. “Jeez, Mara. Don’t do that to me while I’m drinking!” Quinn giggled as she mopped up the mess.

  Mara laughed, her eyes sparkling with humor.

  “Anyway,” Quinn said once she caught her breath, “I’m in the front lobby ninety percent of the day. I don’t really see much of the guys unless they’re coming or going.”

  Plus, the only guy I want to ogle is one I can’t get involved with.

  Mara frowned. “That sucks. Getting to check out the goods has got to be the best perk of working there.”

  “I don’t know. I kind of like being out front. Fighting…” Quinn hesitated, trying to find a way to describe her feelings without insulting Mara’s husband, “it’s just too violent for me, I guess.” She shrugged. “Not my thing, really.”

  With wide eyes, Mara gaped at Quinn. “Seriously? You work at an MMA training facility and you don’t watch the fighting because it’s too violent?” She chuckled. “You’re a trip, Quinn.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Quinn said dejectedly. “Hey, I was curious about something. Something about one of the guys.” She shifted on her barstool, uncomfortable to bring this up but determined to get the answer to her question.

  “Shoot, girl.” Mara leaned closer, obviously interested in whatever juicy gossip Quinn was about to dish.

  “Well,” Quinn felt her face heat up but pressed on, “do you know why is Rick called Ricochet?”

  Mara’s beautiful face split with a wide grin. “Are you crushing on Rick, Quinn? Because he’s totally gorgeous. I could easily see you two together. God, you’d be the hottest couple ever!”

  “What? No!” Quinn said a little too vehemently. “No, I’m not crushing on him. He’s been friendly, as in just friends,” she clarif
ied when Mara gave her a knowing look. “Honestly. We’re just friends. I wanted to know the reason for his nickname, that’s all.”

  “Oh, okay. You’re better off as friends with that boy anyway.” She lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “He’s not known for sticking around, if you know what I mean. He “ricochets” from one bed to another, hardly takes his shoes off before he’s out the door and on to the next girl. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.” Mara made little air quotes around the word ricochets.

  The thick, dark beer Quinn consumed suddenly felt heavy and gross in her stomach. Disappointment was her initial reaction to Mara’s description of Rick as a player. Not that it was a surprise, heck, she heard about his reputation from his own mouth that day in the break room. He was hot, single, and could pretty much get whomever he wanted. It wasn’t long before anger replaced the disappointment. It seemed that every single man Quinn came across was a total douche. She was so sick and tired of douches. But with Rick, it seemed like there was more to him than the slick player he portrayed. An unfeeling ass wouldn’t bring a stranded woman to the grocery store.

  “Good thing we’re just friends then.” Quinn dropped some money on the bar, feeling suddenly brave and if she would admit it to herself, a little vengeful. If Rick was going out every weekend, why was she sitting at home alone pining for him? She raised a hand to flag down the cute bartender.

  Smiling, he made his way down the now crowded bar, stopping in front of Quinn. He leaned forward on his elbows, his face only a few inches away from Quinn’s.

  “Need another?” he asked with a playful smirk, wiping the bar without tearing his gaze away from hers.

  “Yep. And maybe a date?”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn could see Mara’s jaw drop. Hell, Quinn couldn’t even believe she just did that. Forward was not part of Quinn’s repertoire. Quinn didn’t even have a repertoire.

  Who the heck is this brave girl and what has she done with timid little Quinn?

  The bartender threw his towel over his shoulder and grinned, his green eyes sparkling. “I’m sorry to say I can’t go on a date with you.”