Ricochet's Rogue (Agent of Mercy, Book Three)

by Miller, Robin Leigh

  “Miss Holter,” he growled.

  “Hello, Ricochet.”

  “What brings ya here?”

  “I had a meeting with Mr. Cannon.”

  Oh hell no, he thought. This is not good.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have some men waitin’ for me.” He turned, grabbed his tray and walked away.

  “I was hoping we could talk,” she said, hot on his heels.

  “Like I said, I have men waitin’ for me.” He tossed his garbage, slid his tray into the small window to the kitchen and tried to make his escape.

  “You don’t like me much, do you?” she asked stepping in front of him.

  Yep, the last nerve was sizzling all the way down his back. He jammed his hands on his hips and looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t know you, Miss Holter, and what I do know makes me nervous. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.” He sidestepped her and exited the building.

  Something was up and whatever it was wasn’t good. Since when did a client show up here for a meeting with Cannon instead of the office in town? Why hadn’t he been told she was going to be here? He stormed his way into the weapons barracks in a foul mood with hundreds of questions swirling through his brain.

  “Okay, people, let’s get this mess cleaned up,” he barked.

  Ronnie watched him walked out of the building. He really didn’t like her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. The question was why? She had some time before the next meeting with Cannon. Maybe she’d scout around and keep her eye on the handsome Ricochet. See what he was like when he wasn’t saving lives.

  She got to the door in time to see him enter another building. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt if she simply peeked in to see what was going on, she sauntered her way to the building. His shouts could be heard before she actually reached it.

  Creeping up the stairs and keeping low, she snuck a glance inside. Young men were seated with rifles and hand guns caked in mud. Ricochet was standing in front of them, his back to her, bellowing at them. Take it completely apart. Clean every screw, nook and cranny, he demanded. She marveled at the way they responded to him. No matter what he said, they listened.

  As they meticulously disassembled their equipment he continued to talk. She had to admit she didn’t agree with everything he spouted, but understood what he was trying to get across. Maybe she was taught differently, but the end result was the same. Your weapon is an extension of yourself. Without it in the field you’re handicapped.

  He helped a few stragglers, patiently explaining how to remove vital pieces and how to clean them properly, but careful not to do it for them. No matter how advanced equipment got, hands-on was still the best way to go.

  While they finished cleaning and polishing he stressed the point of intimately knowing your weapon inside and out. No matter what the firearm, if you were going to use it—feel it, stroke it, know what made it respond and know what didn’t. She found herself wondering if that was the approach he took in his personal life as well. Did he get to know his women first before he bedded them, or was he as reckless with females as he was careful with weapons?

  This Ricochet was an interesting specimen. She’d come across some men who caught her attention over the years but none like him. What made him different, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was his lack of interest in her. That always piqued a woman’s curiosity. Didn’t matter, she’d find out what he was like professionally and intimately.

  Big black boots came to a stop in front of her. She looked at them and then ran her gaze up the thick, stocky legs, tight abs, broad chest and scowling face. Again he had his hands jammed onto his hips.

  “Somethin’ I can help you with, Miss Holter?”

  Why did he always growl when he said her name? “No.”

  “Is there a reason you’re sneakin’ around then?”

  “Not really. I just wanted to see what was going on.” She stood, brushed the knees of her pants off and smiled.

  “Is Cannon aware you’re nosin’ around?”

  “He said to make myself at home.” That apparently wasn’t what he wanted to hear. The muscle in his jaw flexed as he clenched and his eyes and brow crinkled.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean interruptin’ trainin’ sessions.”

  “Is that what you call this? Putting down young recruits for their mistakes is training?” She didn’t mean it, but the way he was looking at her put her back up. “I thought it was called humiliation.”

  “If you don’t like my tactics, Miss Holter, then please feel free to leave.”

  Her mouth fell open to snap a reply when she felt a presence behind her.

  “You’re wanted in Cannon’s office,” a mild young voice said.

  “Is that the way you were taught to address a superior?” Ricochet bellowed.

  The young man snapped to attention, jutted out his chin and chest. “Sir, Cannon wants you in his office,” he shouted back.

  “Thank you. Dismissed.” Ricochet responded in a less fierce tone. When the recruit was gone he looked at her with bitterness in his eyes and turned back into the room. “Finish up with your weapons. Stow them and report to the field for your next exercise.”

  “Yes, sir,” they responded as one.

  When he turned back to her, she crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant pose. He wouldn’t speak to her like that, he wouldn’t dare.

  “As for you, Miss Holter,” he snarled with the corner of his lip quivering. “I would appreciate it if you would kindly stay out of my men’s way. They have trainin’ to be done and don’t need some busybody interferin’.”

  “Busybody?” Who the hell did he think he was? Before she could ask he shoved past her and left her there with her mouth hanging open and her temper boiling.

  Behind her the men sat staring, waiting for something. She scanned their young faces, most trying not smile, others looking suspicious. When she turned her back to leave snickers filled the room.

  That man clearly despised her and she had a feeling it would only get worse when he left Cannon’s office.

  His blood was humming and it wasn’t singing a love song. Anger burned deep in his gut. Where did she get off eavesdropping on him like that? And what was up with being blindsided by her arrival? Cannon knew he had a problem with her. Didn’t he sit in his office yesterday and explain all that to him? How did he handle it, by inviting her here and letting her have run of the place.

  He stomped inside the office building and up to Beth’s desk. “He wanted to see me.”

  “He’s waiting for you,” she said without looking up.

  “I just bet he is,” he muttered and walked inside the office.

  “Shut the door, Underwood,” Cannon said with his back to him.

  Ricochet turned and slammed the door.

  “I take it you’ve met our new arrival already.” Cannon slowly turned toward him and scowled.

  “You mean the sneaky, eavesdroppin’, know-it-all Miss Holter. You betcha. Thanks for warnin’ me about it. I’m glad we have such a good workin’ relationship.” Sarcasm was his favorite weapon.

  “I was hoping I could talk with you before she made her presence known to you.” Cannon said sitting in his chair.

  “Look up unpredictable, her name’s next to the word.”

  “Sit down, Underwood. I want to show you what I found on her.”

  Ricochet plopped down in the chair and gripped the arms. His anger was still at a high level. Digging his fingers into the wood was far better than wrapping them around Cannon’s throat.

  “As far as the case of her mother’s death being solved, it wasn’t,” he said opening a file. “Police worked feverishly on it for about three months then suddenly dropped it.”

  “They were bein’ threatened?”

  “No official word to that affect, but my source says yes. The mayor and police chief suddenly came into some funds that allowed them to buy some fancy toys. New boats, new cars, things like that.”


  “Show me an official who can’t be bribed and I’ll show you a swamp in the desert.”

  “Exactly. She did manage to make it into the bureau.”

  “What? She had an arrest record for inciting a riot. How’d she get in?”

  “The charges were dropped. Seems that photo you found was the foundation. Happen to notice the blood and swollen body parts?”

  “I did.”

  “They agreed to drop charges and expunge her record if she didn’t sue for brutality. She agreed.”

  “So how long was she in the bureau?”

  “Completed training at the top of her class, a few notes in her personal file stating she has authority problems but in general an asset to the FBI.”

  “That explains her trainin’.”

  “Yes it does. Also explains how she came to hear about Black Smoke.”

  “How’s that?”

  “She worked under a few who had the opportunity to pull a mission with Sam. Must have heard them talking. Anyway, she managed to draw a few choice assignments, got her recognition for excellent work and then requested to be put on the task force that was investigating racial crimes.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “It gets better. She spent four months with them, gathered intelligence, set up a few stings and became quite an asset to them.”

  “But.”

  “It seems while she was working for them, she was working for herself as well. She found someone who knew about her mother’s murder. Poked around in her off time and found the son of a bitch who did it.”

  “She actually solved her mother’s murder?”

  “Somewhat. Because the informant and her suspect were needed in a much bigger case the bureau told her to back off, reprimanded her for using official resources for personal gain. She didn’t take too kindly to that, or the fact that her suspect wouldn’t be charged and tried for her mother’s murder.”

  Ricochet rubbed his chin with his palm. He could tell where this was headed and it didn’t make him feel anymore comfortable with her.

  “She backed off, at least led them to believe she did, and waited. The reports say she stalked the guy for about three weeks, used surveillance equipment from the bureau, had herself armed to the teeth with their weapons then showed up at his house one night.”

  “She went rogue,” he whispered.

  “That’s exactly what she did. Fortunately or unfortunately, however you want to look at it, she’d been followed and watched by some of her fellow investigators. They stopped her right at the entrance gate of his house. As far as they know the suspect never knew she was there. They took her badge that very night and told her they wouldn’t pursue a case against her if she disappeared.”

  “What about him? Did they get ’im?”

  “No they didn’t. Whoever this guy is, he has more money than God and managed to buy himself an agent. The insider tipped him off and filled him in on the entire case. When they tried to arrest him his lawyer was there with cases of information, alibis, you name it. They couldn’t build a case against him for anything. Two weeks later, all the intelligence, everything they had gathered disappeared. The man walked away without so much as a scratch.”

  “And she went into business for herself.”

  “Yep and now she wants us to train her.”

  Ricochet’s head snapped up. “Train her? For what?”

  “She saw you guys in action, somehow found me, which I’m not thrilled about, and asked if she could join in on the training.”

  “And you said yes.” He said it very slowly, anger seething in his words.

  “Not at first I didn’t. If you hadn’t brought your concerns to me I might have agreed right away. Then I began to learn more about her. The thing is, Underwood, she’s good at what she does. Her knack for gathering intelligence and working with people is superb. We could use someone like that.”

  “She works for herself,” he repeated.

  “I know, but I’m hoping she’ll change her mind. I’m hoping Sam, Lowe, Campbell and yourself will help me with that.”

  “Un-uh, no way,” he said bolting from the chair. “Don’t ask me that, Cannon. Don’t ask me to do that. She’s wild, unpredictable and can’t be trusted. I won’t put one man’s life in her hands. What’s wrong with you? She’s already proved she can’t work with a team and you want us to blindly take her on and trust our lives with her. No way.”

  “That whole song and dance sounds familiar. Only it was Lowe singing it about Sam. I thought you were different.”

  “Don’t go there Cannon. That was different. Sam’s a respectable operative, highly trained and trustworthy. Kong’s problem with her had nothin’ to do with her capabilities and everythin’ to do with her personally. This isn’t close to bein’ the same situation and you know it.”

  He couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “Give it a chance, Underwood. I’m not asking you to go on a mission with her. I’m just asking you to help train her. Maybe you’ll see things differently after you’ve worked with her a while.”

  “Doubt it. Do the others know about this yet?”

  “No. I told Sam there was someone I wanted her to train but I didn’t tell her who it was.”

  “Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”

  Cannon chuckled. “I’ll take her advice, just like I take yours and the rest of the team’s. If every one’s against it, then I’ll reconsider.”

  Okay, there was still hope. If they all backed him she’d be gone. He already knew Boomer had his suspicions about her. Sam and Kong he wasn’t sure about.

  A knock sounded on the door.

  “That’ll be the rest of your team. Let’s see what they have to say.”

  Chapter Five

  Ricochet stormed out of the office, blew past Beth in reception and didn’t notice Ronnie sitting there. Cannon sighed, Boomer and Kong stared after him and Sam paced back and forth. It was safe to say this meeting didn’t go well.

  “What’s got his shorts in a bunch?” Kong asked looking at Cannon.

  “He was hoping you would agree with his opinion. As you can tell, he has very strong feelings about this situation.”

  “I knew he didn’t like her, but hell, I’ve never seen him so hard-headed about something,” Boomer said scratching his head. “He’s acting like she’s Hitler himself.”

  “Sam, your take on this?” her uncle asked her.

  “I have to go talk to him,” she said continuing to pace. Boomer was right. In the time they’d all gotten to know each other she’d never seen him so stubborn. There was something more going on.

  “Then go,” Walt told her.

  She turned to leave when Kong stopped her. “I know he seems to be a big teddy bear but he does have a temper. Watch yourself.”

  She smiled at his concern. She could have come back with a smart comment but chose not to. He was worried about both of them and mouthing back wasn’t going to help.

  She, too, breezed through reception without a word to either woman sitting there. When she got outside she scanned the grounds. Ricochet was nowhere in sight.

  Where is he? she asked her spirit guide.

  He is in the training field. Samantha, he is very angry.

  No kidding. What’s he so mad about?

  Even he is not sure.

  Great, she thought to herself. If he didn’t know why he was so pissed how were the rest of them supposed to deal with it? Tell me something, she asked quietly in her head, is Ronnie a danger to us? Is Ricochet right to have such concern?

  Life is a learning process. All learn from past experiences.

  Another cryptic answer. She didn’t have time or want to think this one through. All she wanted to do was find out what had crawled up Ricochet’s butt and put him in such a disagreeable mood.

  She could see him moving around at the other end of the training field, at the tree line. What he was doing she couldn’t tell. Well, she was in the mood for a good jog. At a casu
al pace she ran toward him.

  When she got there he was cutting branches and digging up sod.

  “What are you doing?” she asked panting slightly.

  “I have an exercise planned for the recruits. They’re gonna learn how to blend in with the environment. Thought I’d show ’em how to do that.”

  “That’s a good idea. Maybe we could do it together, ya know, both of us show them something different.”

  “That’d be good. I was tellin’ Boomer this mornin’ we need to expose them more to realistic situations.”

  “I agree with that. Only so much you can learn from a book.” She watched him fashion together a blanket of earth and twigs. It always amazed her how he did that and how effective it was. When he was finished she picked it up and inspected it.

  “Do you miss the military, Rico?”

  “Not really. Why, Cannon threatin’ to send me back?”

  “Of course not. I was just wondering. I think sometimes Mark misses it, and I hope he doesn’t hold it against me one day.”

  Rico chuckled. “Baby girl, he would give up everything for you and not regret one second. You’re talkin’ about the man who thought the military was his wife because there was no way in hell he would love a woman. Now look at ’im. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

  “I guess you’re right. I can’t help but worry though. I mean, what if one day he finds out I did something on a mission that he doesn’t agree with, or like. What if his whole attitude toward me changes because of something I did years ago? Then he starts thinking about how he wasted his career.”

  “He wouldn’t care if you were responsible for global warming. He’d talk with you about it, try to make it right in his head, but he knows everyone makes mistakes. Hell, we’ve all made them, includin’ me, and that’s a pretty underhanded way of makin’ a point.”

  “Sorry. I just wasn’t sure how else to do it. It would help if we knew why you felt so strongly about this, Rico. I know you expected us to back you, but I think we’re all seeing this from different standpoints.”