“Come on, Boomer, the kids are waitin’ on us.”
“Thanks,” Boomer said.
“For what?”
“Back there. I’m gonna marry Hannah, I’m just waiting for something first.”
“No problem.”
“So what do you have planned for the troops today?”
“I thought a nice lesson in explosives would be good.”
“You think they’re ready?” Boomer asked.
“Gotta start some time. Maybe we’ll find one or two who have a knack for it like you.”
“Not possible.”
“Probably not.”
The day went along as it should. Sam did her personal training. Kong worked out with her for a while and then returned to the office with Cannon. Boomer terrorized the recruits with his toys while Ricochet loomed behind them making sure no one blew themselves up. Every time someone crossed the field he hoped it was Cannon sending for him. By five o’clock he convinced himself Cannon wasn’t going to follow through.
On their way back to the barracks he saw a woman walking toward Cannon’s office. He stopped and looked again. She was wearing a tight pair of brown leather pants that hugged her ass and hips like skin. Her cream colored blouse was a tailored fit, accenting her hourglass figure. His breath lodged in his lungs. The tightly pulled ponytail hanging down the middle of her back he recognized.
“What the hell?” he squealed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tell me that ain’t her.”
“Are you talking to yourself again?”
“No, man, look, over there.” He pointed toward Cannon’s building. “Tell me that isn’t who I think it is.”
“Who do you think it is?” Boomer asked.
It couldn’t be. No way in hell she would know how to find them, much less show up here? He was hallucinating, it was the only explanation.
“Never mind. Couldn’t be.”
“Hannah’s making spaghetti tonight so don’t eat anything before you come.”
“How’s the house? You gettin’ all the repairs done?”
“Slowly. I forgot how nice it is living in a house.”
“Wouldn’t know, never lived in one. I grew up in an apartment and have lived in one ever since,” he said keeping his eye on Cannon’s building. When Sam walked in his voice faltered.
“Yeah, well when you get married you might want to think about getting one.”
“Like that’s gonna happen. I got no interest in being tied down, not when there are so many lovely ladies who haven’t had the pleasure of me yet.”
“I’ll remind you of that when the day comes.”
“Won’t need to, buddy. I’m tellin’ ya it ain’t in my cards.”
“I’m gonna go remind Cannon about tonight. Haven’t talked with him today.”
“I’ll come with ya.” It was the perfect opportunity. He had to make sure it wasn’t her.
When they entered his office his secretary stopped them. “Sorry guys. He’s in a meeting,” the short, portly Beth told them.
“I thought I saw Sam come in,” he said to her.
“You did. She’s in there too.”
“Thanks, Beth,” Boomer said and then turned and left.
“Who’s he meetin’ with?” Rico asked.
“You know I can’t tell you that, Carl. You want me to lose my job?” she said with a smile.
“No, no, I don’t want you to lose your job. Sorry.” He turned and followed Boomer out the door. It was just his imagination playing tricks on him. That’s all it was. No need to worry.
“I’m gonna head home, Rico. Don’t be late for diner.” Boomer shouted as he headed toward his car.
“I wouldn’t miss Hannah’s spaghetti for anythin’.”
He hung around for a while hoping to get another glimpse of the mysterious woman in Cannon’s office. After half an hour he gave up. He wanted to grab a shower before heading over to Boomer’s for Raya’s birthday party and he still needed to wrap her gift. Tonight he’d question Cannon about what information he gathered on Ronnie Holter.
When he arrived, Raya met him at the door in a pretty new dress and her signature smile. She led him into the living room where Kong and Sam were already seated. Boomer was helping Hannah set the table. It didn’t take long for him to settle in.
Hannah had decorated in warm colors and plush furniture. The walls were still bare except for one school picture of Raya. The atmosphere was relaxing and he found himself at ease for the first time in two days. Cannon arrived just before diner looking strained. He decided not to bother him about Veronica Holter tonight. The man was in need of down time.
The diner was superb, the conversation light and laughter filled the room. When they finished eating Sam, Raya and Hannah cleared the table and washed dishes. When they were finished Raya came bouncing out to the dining room table and hopped up in Boomer’s lap.
“Mom says it’s time for presents,” she signed to him.
“What presents?” he spoke and then looked around the table. “You guys know anything about presents?”
“You’re joking with me. I know there are presents,” she signed with a smile. “Ricochet said he had one for me.”
“That’s right kid,” Rico signed and spoke.
Hannah snapped pictures of Raya tearing into her gifts and then giving out hugs in thanks for her treasures. Ricochet hadn’t been to a birthday party since he was kid. That wasn’t completely true. There was that one back in basic but it wasn’t anything like this. That one consisted of beer, loud music, gag gifts and scantly clad women gyrating around until what bit of clothing they did wear dropped off.
Oh yeah, that was one hell of a party. Boomer and Kong were both in attendance and did their share of drinking, fraternizing, and all three left with one of the dancing women. Those were the good days. No more of that now.
He looked around the table. Kong had his arm around Sam lightly running his fingertips up and down her arm. Hannah was seated in Boomer’s lap, wriggling around as she helped Raya clear away discarded wrapping paper. The look on Boomer’s face was sheer joy.
Maybe tomorrow night, if he wasn’t perched in some secluded spot with his rifle, he’d head out for a night of fun himself. It had been a few weeks since he’d had a couple of ladies on his arm.
When he glanced at Cannon he could tell he was still tense. His forehead was in a permanent state of furrow. He was paying attention to what was happening, but part of his mind was elsewhere.
After cake and ice cream Cannon excused himself, gave Raya a tender hug, shook Boomer’s hand and thanked Hannah for an excellent dinner. As Cannon passed by him he tapped him and motioned for him to follow. When they got to the door he paused.
“Sorry I didn’t get back to you today on that matter we discussed.”
“It’s cool. You’re a busy man.”
“Be in my office at ten tomorrow. We’ll talk.”
“I’ll be there.”
Cannon nodded his head. “Now if you’ll excuse, me I have another meeting to attend this evening.”
“This late? All business all the time huh?”
A strange smile spread across Cannon’s lips. “This is a different kind of business.”
It didn’t take a smack in the face to understand what he was hinting at. “You dog. What are you waitin’ for? Get movin’.”
Cannon lifted his finger to his lips indicating it was to be kept quiet. Ricochet winked, opened the door for him and ran his fingers across his lips like he was zipping them shut. It was a sad state of affairs when even Cannon had a hot date and he was heading home alone. Well, he’d just have to take care of that.
Chapter Four
Thunder rolled across the sky as Ricochet walked from the parking lot to the base. When he woke last night to the soft patter of rain on his bedroom window he had a brilliant idea. It would be a perfect day for the newbies to learn how to muck around in the mud with high tech equipment and explosives,
and still be able to finish the mission with all their equipment in working order. The best part of the plan was getting them up three hours early to do it.
He stood outside the door of the barracks as lightning flashed behind him and the rain poured down his bare scalp. He turned the doorknob, flung the door open and stepped inside just as the thunder crashed. Heads bobbed up from the cots.
“Rise and shine, ladies,” he barked stomping down the isle. “Move it. Let’s go.”
He yanked blankets off sleeping bodies, shook bunks and bellowed as he passed each recruit. “You never know when a mission is goin’ to come up. Can’t always be tucked up safe and sound in your blankets. Get your asses up and movin’.”
He chuckled as young men stumbled and fell trying to pull their pants on in the dark, half asleep. If they wanted to do this work they needed to know it didn’t all go down between eight and five every day.
“We have a target on the other side of the training field with a hostage. Your mission is to make it to that target without bein’ seen, disarm him and free the hostage before the sun comes up and allows your position to be seen. Is that understood?”
A half hearted “Yes, sir” was shouted by the men.
“I can’t hear you. Do you understand?” he shouted again.
This time the reply came from their guts.
“Good. Everyone to the weapons barracks. Move.”
The men filed out in a run. The sky blinked and rumbled as they tramped through thick mud. Ricochet jogged ahead of them.
“Your weapons will be one firearm, one electronic device to aid in your search and one explosive source. It is your choice, make it count,” he ordered as they ran past him into the building. “We have three minutes until departure.”
He stood at the door as his recruits scrambled around inside. “Keep in mind the weather conditions as you choose,” he bellowed.
Several of the men glanced at what they held in their hands and returned them making another choice. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? They really needed to be exposed to real-life situations more often. He’d take that up with Cannon later.
Men began to file past him back out into the rain. He followed, positioned himself in front of them and glanced at his watch. Thirty seconds left, whoever was left in the building would have to catch up. When he looked up he was more than surprised to see all his men standing in front of him.
“Double time it,” he yelled and then turned and ran toward the training field.
Behind him he could hear the slap and slosh of mud from their feet as they followed. Lightning split the sky ahead and thunder vibrated through their bodies. As they approached the edge of the field he stopped them.
“Your destination is the other side of the field. Lookouts are positioned and watchin’. You make yourself invisible is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.
“Inside the shed is your target and hostage.” He looked over the soggy, tired men. “Move.”
By the time the recruits were done crawling through the mud, checking to see if their equipment still worked and receiving a healthy ass chewing by him for their mistakes, the sun had risen and the rain stopped. He doubled timed them back across the field, made them stand at attention while he continued to lecture on the importance of protecting your equipment.
The morning sun began to dry the mud on their clothes and faces. He continued his lecture on the finer points of approaching a target. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cannon approach his office, stop, look over the filthy crew, shake his head with a chuckle and enter.
“You got ten minutes to clean up and make chow. When you’re finished meet me at the weapons barracks. You ladies have some cleanin’ to do. Dismissed.”
The men snapped to attention and waited for Ricochet to walk away before leaving themselves. He could hear them grumbling as they walked and smiled. If they were happy he wasn’t doing his job.
“Sir.” A voice came from behind him.
He turned to find the young man who led the field standing at attention. “What is it?”
“Permission to pick your brain later about technique, sir.”
Ricochet tilted his head to the side and eyed the muddy young face. “Technique about what?”
“Approaching a target, sir. You’re the best. I want to learn.”
He smiled. “I’m not the best, newbie, but if you’re serious about it, I’ll line you up with the best.”
“I would appreciate that, sir.”
“Go get yourself cleaned up and eat. If we have time after weapons are cleaned we’ll talk.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The young man turned and jogged to his barracks. When he turned he caught a glimpse of a long ponytail entering Cannon’s office. His gut clenched. All he could see was the sway of the hair, not the rest of her. Again he told himself it couldn’t possibly be her. Maybe it was the so called meeting Cannon had last night. Maybe the old dog had him a younger woman.
“Hey, Ricochet.”
“Mornin’, Sam.” He smiled as she walked to him.
“What the hell have you been doing now?” she questioned looking him up one side and down the other.
“Took the kids for a hike this morning.”
“I bet.”
“Hey, gotta question for ya.”
“Shoot.”
“I got a man who wants to learn the art of disappearing. Think you could help him out?”
Sam crossed her arms over he chest. “He serious?”
“I think so. Been watchin’ him. He’s one of the best in the group. Came across the trainin’ field in record time, but you and I both know that’s only part of it. He wanted me to teach him how to do it better. I think you’re the one for the job.”
“Okay. Uncle Walt wants me to take on another recruit for some one-on-one training, I’ll ask if this one can join in.”
“Thanks, Sam. Who’s the other one?” When she averted her eyes and bit her lower lip, his gut twisted.
“Can’t tell me, huh?”
“Sorry.”
“It’s cool. I need to clean up. I’ll catch up with ya later.”
“Yeah, you look like a giant mud pie.”
He opened his arms for a hug and laughed when she backed away. “Oh come on, Sam. Don’t ole Ricochet get a hug?”
“See me after you’ve showered.” She giggled and ran away.
“Jeez, man, you’re scaring off women now.”
Boomer’s deep voice came from behind him. He turned and smiled. “It happens to everyone once in a while.”
“Heard you had the boys out early this morning. What’d ya do?”
“Wanted to see if they could work in foul weather and keep their equipment dry.”
“And?”
“They can’t. Can’t sneak up on anyone either. We need to expose these guys to some real-life situations, man. It ain’t enough to just tell ’em about it.”
“Agreed. What’d they take with ’em?”
“One firearm, one high tech piece and one explosive.”
The terrified look on Boomer’s face when he said explosive was priceless. The poor man looked like he just found out there was no Santa Claus.
“They ruined explosives?”
“Oh yeah. Guess you’ll have ta requisition more.”
“I’ll have ta teach them how to baby it, too. Cannon wants me to do some one-on-one with some of ’em anyway. That’ll be step number one.”
“He got you doin’ the one-on-one, huh? Me and Sam too. Wonder if Kong’s part of this?” Ricochet brushed some of the drying mud from his face.
“Don’t know. Hey, I’ll catch up with ya later. Things to do.”
“Yeah, man, later.” It looked like they were stepping into the next phase of training. Pulling some of the newbies aside and honing their skills in specific areas was good.
He stomped some of the mud he carried on his clothes off before he entered the priva
te barracks Cannon had assigned them. They all kept a clean set of clothes, toiletries and a few personal items there. They never knew when they’d be called away in the middle of the day.
After a nice hot shower and a fresh set of clothes he meandered over to the chow hall and grabbed a quick bite. The men invited him to sit with them, shooting questions about the morning’s exercise as they ate. He was brutal in his answers but honest.
“Okay guys, enough chitchat. There’s a pile of weapons and equipment that need to be cleaned.”
Grumbles rounded the table.
“Hey, listen up. Out in the field that equipment is your best friend. It will save your life and someone else’s. Don’t forget that’s what the job is all about. The better care you take of it, the better it can take care of you.”
He looked into intent young faces focused on him. The message was getting through. He couldn’t ask for anything more right now.
“Dismissed, ladies.”
They all stood as one, removed their trays from the table and departed. He finished the last of his coffee as he watched them leave and then stood.
“You capture their attention, don’t you?”
He knew that voice and it nearly sent his breakfast back up. This was not happening, he thought to himself. If he turned around he’d find someone else standing there, not her.
Very slowly he turned. His eyes swept across the tiled floor until they spotted a pair of black hiker boots. His gaze climbed up black denim clad legs to hips that curved just slightly and then came back to a trim waist. The untucked deep purple blouse rested at the waistline of the pants and curved nicely over ample bosoms straining against the silky material. His eyes skimmed over the plump, round breasts, then he shifted his gaze upward to the milk-chocolate cleavage that stared right back at him. Her satiny skin continued up a long, thin neck.
He stopped there. The package so far was fine. More than fine, as hot as hell. Curves and angles that begged to have hands follow their every line. He didn’t recall all that from the other day. He was too busy being shot at and trying to keep her from getting killed. Bringing that memory to mind soured the whole damned experience.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then opened them again. Yep, there she was. Veronica Holter. A less disheveled, much cleaner and more attractive version, but the same women who managed to irritate her way down his last nerve. Her big brown eyes smiled at him.
Ricochet's Rogue (Agent of Mercy, Book Three) Page 5
