He turned to find the lady he came with. Her bangs were stuck to her forehead from sweat, her cleavage was glistening under the many colored lights and she was breathing heavily.
“Sure, baby. Just give me a few more minutes okay?”
“I can’t stay much longer. I have an early appointment in the morning,” she told him.
“I know. Go finish that guy off ya were dancin’ with. It looks like ya left him standin’ in the wind.”
She smacked his arm, laughed and trotted back out to the dance floor. He focused his attention back on Veronica. She swallowed the last of the drink that she’d been nursing, picked up her clutch and proceeded across the floor toward the door. The first dope she sent away watched her.
His skin prickled. He didn’t like the look in the guy’s eyes. There was cruelty there, he’d seen it before. His muscles tensed and when the guy followed her he knew there was trouble brewing. With his fists clenched he weaved in and out of the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.
As soon as the guy walked through the door behind her he picked up his pace. Granted, she could probably handle the guy but he’d never forgive himself if something bad happened to her. He walked from the noisy club into the dark silence. No one was there. His steady gaze traveled up and down the street, his ears tuned for any sound.
A grunt and then a faint squeal drew his attention down the alley next to the club. He snuck down the sidewalk until he reached the alley entrance, pressed his body against the wall and peeked around the corner.
Veronica was pressed against the wall face first and her arm was twisted behind her back. The man had a handful of her hair wrenching her head back.
“Try to chase me away now,” he snarled in her ear.
Ricochet’s blood coursed through his veins with a vengeance, his muscles coiled for attack. He made a move but stopped when she reached behind her with her free hand and grabbed a handful of his package. Her grip must have been tight the way the man shrieked. Instead of resulting in him backing off it only served to infuriate him further. He bounced her head off the brick building. She countered with a stomp from her spiked heel into his foot. That move loosened his grip enough for her to break free and turn. He slapped her hard across the face.
Ricochet was caught between wanting to help and not being sure she would appreciate it. “The hell with it,” he grumbled and darted down the dark alley. He arrived in time to stop the man’s fist plowing into her face.
“Didn’t your mama teach ya how to treat a lady?”
Veronica took a chance while her attacker was distracted and jammed her fist into the man’s mouth, followed by a knee to the groin. When he doubled over, she grasped her hands together and brought them down on the back of his head like a club.
Ricochet let go of him as he crumbled to the filthy ground. Veronica’s rage continued. Drawing her foot back she kicked him in the face while spewing foul names.
“Hey stop.” Ricochet tried to push her away. “He’s down. You won.”
“You can’t treat women like that, you slug,” she screamed, pushing past him for another shot.
“Veronica,” he said trying to grab her flailing arms. “Ronnie!” he shouted finally getting her attention. “It’s over. Stop before you hurt him.”
“He deserves to get hurt. You didn’t hear the filth coming out of his mouth. Tell him what you were gonna do to me you sick bastard,” she shouted kicking her foot and making contact with the man’s face.
“Whoa, settle down.” He wrapped his arms around her, pinning hers to her side. “I know he’s a sick son of a bitch, but ya don’t wanna go to jail for assault.”
She was trembling in his arms yet still wanting to finish the guy off. He looked down at the piece of slime on the ground, convinced he wouldn’t be anymore trouble. All he had to do now was get her out of this alley. He’d give her a few moments to collect herself and then he’d take her home.
“It’s okay, Veronica. It’s over. Take some deep breaths and calm yourself.”
She looked up into his eyes. There was trust and fear and a little humiliation jumbled together. It affected him, stirring his heart. He’d be dead if it didn’t. He couldn’t help himself, reaching out to soothe away her fear with his fingers. In an instant her look changed.
Gone were the fear and humiliation replaced by hatred. She stepped forward, shoved her elbow into his stomach and used her hip to push him aside. He swung around to see the creep who had been on the ground standing there with a knife in his hand.
“Ronnie.” The word was no sooner out of Ricochet’s mouth when the attacker drove the knife forward.
In a flash of movement she had the man by the wrist, twisting and pinching a pressure point until he dropped it. Still holding him with one hand she brought her free fist back and drove it into his face. His eyes rolled back in his head, blood gushed from his mouth and nose and for the final time he fell to the ground.
“Nice shot,” Ricochet said with amazement. When she stood there, staring down at him he reached out and touched her arm.
A deep growl came from her throat and she turned with her fist ready.
“Whoa. Step back girl. It’s me, Ricochet.”
Recognition flickered in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said taking a step back. “I didn’t mean…”
“It’s cool, settle down,” he interrupted. “I think we should get out of here before he decides to wake up again, if he wakes up again.” A trickle of blood was making its way down her forehead. “Are you okay? You’re bleedin’.”
“I’m fine. I should get home,” she said backing away and stumbling.
“Wait, Veronica. Why don’t you come back to my place? I’ll check ya over, make sure you are okay and then I’ll take ya home.”
“That isn’t necessary, sir,” she said looking away. “I can take care of myself.”
“Sir, huh? Okay, ya wanna play it that way? Recruit, you will come back with me for medical attention. Is that understood?”
“I don’t think you can pull that outside base, sir.” She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
“Veronica, let’s not play games. I’m worried about ya and I’ll feel better if ya let me check you over.”
She furrowed her brow in thought, bit down on her lower lip and looked away from him. After a few seconds she nodded her head in agreement.
“Good. Come on. My car isn’t far. I need to go back inside and leave a message for someone but you can wait in the car.”
“I don’t want to mess up your evening,” she said in a small voice.
“It’s okay, you aren’t.”
He settled her in his car, locked it and darted back inside. His friend was still on the dance floor. He made his way over to her, tapped her on the shoulder and then dragged her off the floor.
“Look, somethin’s come up. I have to leave. You want me to take ya home?”
“No. I ran into a few friends of mine from work. They’ll take me home. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, a friend ran into some trouble.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but with you there to help I’m sure things will be just fine.”
He gave her a small peck on the cheek and headed back out to his car. Veronica was huddled in the passenger seat, her head propped against the window. He crawled in the car, started it and drove to his apartment in silence.
When they got there he walked her inside, flipped on the lights and pulled out chair. “Sit,” he said gently.
“You really don’t have to do this,” she said sitting down.
“I know I don’t.” He noticed she was still shaking. “Would ya like somethin’ ta calm your nerves?”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
He went to the cupboard, pulled down a bottle of tequila and poured her and himself a shot. He decided he’d let her relax a while before pulling out the peroxide. When he set the glass in front of her she jumped.
“Sorry. This should mellow you
out.”
She picked up the glass, sniffed it and then drank it down. There was no choking, gagging or coughing. She apparently knew how to handle her liquor.
“I hope you didn’t get into trouble leaving someone behind,” she said rolling the glass between her hands.
“Nope.”
“It’s funny, I didn’t even know you were there, but it seems you knew I was there.”
“Yeah, I saw ya sittin’ at the end of the bar. Were ya waitin’ for someone?”
“No. I just wanted a night out.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“With all your trainin’, how’d you let the guy get the drop on ya like that?”
“No one’s perfect,” she whispered.
There was more to it, he could tell but was now the time to push for answers? “How ’bout you let me look at your head, see how bad that cut is.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Let me be the judge.” He gathered peroxide, cotton balls and a clean towel and then pulled a chair up in front of her.
When she pulled her hair back he sucked air between his teeth. “That’s a nasty little bitch ya got there. This is gonna sting,” he said dabbing it with peroxide.
“Stitches?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. I’ll put a butterfly bandage on it that should take care of it. Any other places that need a little attention?”
“Can you put a bandage on my pride?” A tear trickled down her cheek as she spoke.
This was the reason he wanted to bring her back here, he knew the wound wasn’t serious. Women responded to an attack differently. Some got angry, some became hysterical, and others saw it as failure like Veronica did.
“Listen,” he said looking into her eyes. “You did nothin’ wrong tonight okay. That creep came into that bar tonight lookin’ for a target. If he hadn’t picked you it would have been someone else.”
“He was sick.” She wiped a tear from her eye and looked away from him.
It made him angry to see how fast a confident woman could be brought down by a degenerate. This woman sitting in front of him was not the woman he came up against on that field.
“If it’s worth anythin’ you put a hurtin’ on him. I bet its weeks before he makes a move on another woman.”
“I did, didn’t I?” she said confidently.
“Ya did. When it came down to it, ya got the job done. And,” he said lifting her chin with his forefinger, “ya watched my back. That goes a long way with me.”
“Thank you.”
“Come on, I’ll take ya home. Ya have a long day tomorrow.”
Chapter Seven
The following morning Ricochet waited for Sam outside Cannon’s office barracks. When he dropped Veronica off at her hotel she was still sulking about the creep getting his hands on her so quickly. She did fight back but in all the wrong ways. He wanted to make sure if she was ever in that kind of situation again she knew the proper way to handle it.
Sam and Kong came around the corner of the barracks, apparently in the midst of an argument. They were both growling at each other in hushed voices.
“Mornin’ guys.”
“Good morning,” they both replied.
“Sam, can I have a chat with ya?”
“Need me to leave?” Kong snapped.
“I guess not. She’s gonna tell ya about it anyway.”
“What’s up, Rico?”
“I was wonderin’ if you’d take a little extra time with Veronica and maybe teach her some personal self-defense.”
Sam and Kong shared a concerned look. “What happened?” she asked.
“Last night I went to the club with a lady friend of mine and she was there. Long story short, she encountered a goon who wouldn’t take no for an answer. When she left he followed her. By the time I got outside he had her subdued.”
“Is she okay?” Kong asked.
“Physically yes, just a few bumps and bruises and a small cut from when he bounced her head off the side of the buildin’. It’s her emotional state I’m worried about. The whole thing shook her pretty bad. I took her back to my place and talked with her a while but I think some knowledge would go a long way right now.”
“Get her confidence back huh?” Kong said nodding his head in agreement.
“That was my thinkin’.”
“Sure, Rico, no problem. Maybe I’ll incorporate it in our daily exercises.”
“Thanks, Sam. If ya could not tell her I said anythin’ that would be great too.”
“Sure,” she said rubbing his arm. “I understand.”
“She was lucky you were there, buddy,” Kong said slapping him on the back.
“It could have been a lot worse. She did kick his ass on her own, though, and when I had my back turned and he came at me with a knife she shoved me outta the way and disarmed him. If the guy doesn’t have a busted jaw today I’d be surprised.”
“I hope he does,” Kong snarled. “Any bastard who treats women that way deserves it.”
The day flew by. Ricochet’s time with Veronica and the two other recruits went well. Target practice went better than the day before and weapon teardown had fewer glitches. Veronica paid close attention, did as she was told and even helped her teammates when needed.
Nothing was said about the night before. In fact she barely spared him a glance. A fresh bandage replaced the one he’d put on the night before. With her hair pulled back he could see bruising around her hairline that hadn’t been there. He mulled around the idea of pulling her aside just to check and see how she was doing, then decided against it. Harping on what happened wasn’t going to help her.
Three weeks passed by quickly. Training progressed at a fast pace without him, Boomer, Kong or Sam being called away. It seemed the terrorists, degenerates, and lowlifes of the world were taking a break for a while. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Sam and Kong. Every other day they came to the base sniping at each other. Some days she looked fine, others she looked exhausted, pale and her eyes sunken.
Another odd thing was taking place. He began looking forward to seeing Veronica every day. Her hard work, attention and dedication were paying off. She was now on his level of shooting, could tear down her weapon and reassemble it within minutes, no matter what the weapon. He noticed a personal competition between her and Pearson, which he encouraged.
She impressed him with her quick calculations and ability to camouflage herself and disappear into her surroundings. He avoided questioning the others about her training with them, opting to check it out himself. Keeping in the background he observed her work with Boomer.
Boomer would offer up situations and asked them to choose their weapon. After, he’d discuss with them the rights and wrongs of their decisions. Sometimes he’d ask the others to explain why a particular choice was incorrect. Veronica was always the first to speak up. He noticed Pearson’s annoyance at that.
When he observed Sam’s training sessions he was equally impressed. The particular day he watched, Sam paired them up in a sparing session. Pearson and Veronica went head to head ending in a stalemate. Nelson was the real surprise. He put Sam through her paces and managed to up her on several occasions.
“So that’s why Cannon chose him,” he muttered to himself. It wasn’t often you found someone able to best the legendary Black Smoke.
Then she demonstrated her skulking skills. Each one tried to follow her lead, only one succeeded. Pearson had taken his training with her seriously. He hung on every word Sam spoke, committed to memory her every move and incorporated his own ideas. Sam seemed pleased with him. Veronica, on the other hand, struggled in this particular area.
To give them something different to work on, Sam hid herself and ordered them to find her. Half an hour passed, the three of them searched to no avail. Pearson stood to the side, scanned the area and thought.
“Something isn’t right,” he said to his teammates. “She wouldn’t hide this long.
She wouldn’t let us take this long to find her. This is supposed to get us ready for a mission. We wouldn’t have this long to look.”
Pearson was right. The knowing feeling Ricochet came to rely on in his stomach said trouble was looming. He stepped up next to the three.
“Fan out. Look up, down, feel around on the ground,” he told them.
“On the ground?” Veronica asked.
“She has this thing she does, buryin’ herself underground. Watch your footin’. If you find her, call out.”
The three spaced themselves and began searching.
“Sam, it’s over. Your recruits have to move on to the next session,” he yelled.
Nothing. No movement in the trees, no grass rustling. Something had gone wrong.
“Sam, where the hell are ya? I’m gonna call Kong ta come get ya.”
Still nothing. This wasn’t like her.
“You win, Smoke. Let’s wrap this up.”
“Sir,” Pearson shouted from the tree line. “I found her.”
He, Veronica and Nelson ran. Pearson was sweating bullets when they barreled to his side. Sam lay slumped over a tree branch high in a tree, pale and unconscious.
“Fuck. Nelson, get back to base and find Boomer and Kong. Get them down here.” Ricochet ordered as he started up the tree.
“Yes, sir,” the young man said on the run.
“How are you at climbin’ trees, Pearson?”
“The best, sir.”
They made their way up the tree. Ricochet climbed out on the branch she was on while Pearson crawled out on a lower limb.
“Is she breathing?” the panicked young man asked.
“Yeah, she’s breathin’. I’m gonna try to wake her up. Now listen kid, if she jolts and slips you’re gonna have ta move fast.”
“Roger that.” Pearson pulled his belt from his pants, looped it, slid his wrist through it and then secured the other end to the branch. “It’ll keep us both from hitting the ground.”
Ricochet nodded his head and then laid his hand on her back. “Sam, come on, honey, wake up.” When she didn’t move he grabbed her foot and shook it. “Sam,” he shouted.
She groaned a little, her eyelids fluttered and then she opened them.
Ricochet's Rogue (Agent of Mercy, Book Three) Page 9
