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

by Miller, Robin Leigh

  Her hands trembled violently making it nearly impossible to function. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner and slowly pulled it over her head.

  “Blood,” she said staring at the soiled material.

  “Yeah, but not yours.” He stepped behind her and examined her back. It was red and welted but there was no entry wound. He moved back in front of her and checked her chest. Nothing.

  “What is it?” she asked trying to be brave.

  “I don’t know yet. Sit down a minute.” He led her to the bed and helped her sit. She was going into shock and he needed to snap her out of it.

  A shot a whisky would do the trick, but he didn’t have any.

  “I don’t suppose they have mini bars in this place,” he muttered.

  “Actually they do, sort of.” She pointed to the end of the dresser with a shaky finger.

  There was a three by three box sitting there. He opened it and grabbed a few mini bottles. With one twist he popped open a bottle and handed it to her.

  “Drink.”

  She held it to her lips and poured it into her mouth. He knew when she swallowed. Her eyes squinted, she made a sour face and gagged. While she coughed and wheezed, he pulled the spread from the bed up around her.

  “Stay with me, babe. You’re okay, nothing happened to ya. They wanted to scare ya, that’s all.”

  “They did a good job. Hold me,” she pleaded looking into his eyes.

  He didn’t need to be asked twice. Quickly, he sat, embracing her. She laid her head on his shoulder and cried. It was time to call in backup, he thought, placing a kiss on her head.

  They sat there for an hour holding each other in silence. God, he thought he’d lost her. Even scarier was how he felt about it. It wasn’t like losing a client, more like losing a part of himself. The entire world had crumbled around him when he’d heard the shots and watched her drop to the ground. Everything he cared about didn’t matter anymore. Nothing. How could one person invade his thoughts that way?

  Damn, maybe Kong was right, maybe he was falling in love with her. How the hell did that happen? He wasn’t cut out to fall in love with anyone. He liked his freedom, having any woman whenever he wanted. Freedom, that’s what it was all about for him. Still, thinking he’d never see her again tore at his insides like a knife.

  If he thought about it long enough, he liked the way she made him crazy, stood up to him and punished him when she was angry. He liked her directness about everything. The need to make everything right for her was strong, something he’d never wanted to do before for anyone.

  Oh God, he’d fallen in love with a woman who could be dead in days. No. he stopped that thinking instantly. She wouldn’t die, he wouldn’t allow it. They wouldn’t allow it.

  He thought she’d fallen asleep so he began to move so he could lay her down.

  “I’m awake,” she said pushing her hair out of her face.

  “Feelin’ any better?” he asked holding her face between his hands.

  “Yeah, I do. Thank you.”

  “Please don’t thank me.”

  She looked at him with red rimmed, swollen eyes full of hope. Hope he was going to fulfill. Slowly he leaned into her and rested his lips against hers and then pulled away.

  “Have you looked at my shirt yet? Maybe there’s something there.”

  She was confused. That was okay. He’d give her time. He walked over to the chair that her shirt was laying on and picked it up. A small piece of plastic stuck to the back.

  “It looks like they launched a bag of blood at ya. Question is, whose?” He tossed the shirt down and rubbed his eyes.

  Holding that bloody material brought back the fear and pain he felt in an instant when he thought she was dead. It overwhelmed him, shaking his soul with an icy fist. God, he couldn’t lose her, not now. He’d spent the last few months trying to push her away and now he wanted nothing more than to pack her in the car, drive far away from danger and make love to her for weeks on end.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Could he tell her what he was feeling? Would she believe him? Probably not but he was finished denying what was so obvious to everyone else. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I know that. Don’t you get it?”

  “Get what?” He could hear the confusion in her voice.

  “I was scared to death like never before, Veronica. The bottom dropped out of my heart. Here’s a woman I’ve been trying to convince myself I can’t stand. You’re bull-headed, cocky, you take too many risks, you’re just a general pain in the ass. And I couldn’t fathom life without you. I’ve got accustomed to you being there every day, seeing you, interacting with you. I have never felt so damned desperate in my life. It doesn’t make any sense but there it is.”

  He ranted and paced. “Don’t you understand?”

  “No.”

  She was going to make him say it. Of course she was. He shouldn’t be surprised. He went over to her, sat down and took her hands. It was going to be hard to form the words and speak them, but he could do it.

  “I’m in love with you.” There, he said it and it was easier than he thought.

  “No, you aren’t,” she said, pulling her hands from his.

  “Huh?” Had she just ball busted him again, or was that a sucker punch he felt in his face?

  “You aren’t in love with me. You can’t stand me. You’re just mistaking what we shared that one night for love.”

  What the hell was she talking about? “No, I’m not.” What the hell?

  “Sure you are. Think about it, Ricochet. You don’t want to be tied down to one woman, especially me. It’s not you. If you want to have sex again just say it, that’s what this is all about.”

  Was she crazy? He just professed his love to her and she was telling him differently. Okay, she was still in shock. That had to be it.

  “Of course I want to have sex with you, but that’s because I love you.”

  “Did you love me that night?”

  Oops, she had him there. “Well, no.”

  “See. Look I’m flattered that you think you love me, but it’s not love, Ricochet.” She unwrapped herself from the blanket and stood before him in her jeans and bra. “I’m going to take a shower and get this blood off me.” Then she walked away.

  What the hell just happened? For the first time ever he told a woman he loved her and she refused to believe it. Could this get any more bizarre? She couldn’t make it easy. That wasn’t her way. She had to make it as difficult as possible. Did she really think he was that stupid? That he didn’t know when he was in love.

  And who the hell did she think she was telling him what he felt and what he didn’t feel? Brushing him off like he was some pesky bug. Maybe she was used to being told someone loved her but he sure as hell wasn’t used to saying it.

  She stuck her head around the corner of the door. “Could you bring my bag in from the car please?” Then she disappeared back into the bathroom.

  He heard the shower turn on and groaned. He couldn’t stand here and listen to the water run, wondering if she was using that showerhead again. No way. He stormed out the door and slammed it closed, unlocked the car and retrieved the bag that held her new clothes. Frustrated, angry and confused he went back into her room, tossed the bag on the bed and left.

  When he was inside his own room he tore his bloody shirt off, tossed it to the floor and grabbed a washcloth. Finished cleaning off the blood, he paced back and forth, muttering to himself. He must be out of his mind falling for a woman like that. He didn’t need that kind of aggravation. The best thing to do was put it behind him, act like nothing happened like she was doing.

  “Yeah. Forget it,” he said scrubbing his face with his hands. There was a job to do and he needed to focus on it.

  Cannon needed to be told what happened tonight. The team needed to head out and plans needed to be made. That should be enough to take his mind off making an ass out himself.

>   Sitting on the edge of the bed he dialed Cannon’s number and started the wheels in motion. Half an hour later he hung up. The rest of the crew would be there by morning. Thank God. He needed the sanity of his friends right now.

  Cannon didn’t seem surprised by the news of Devon Grear. From the sounds of it he’d been working his angles since the day Veronica showed up at W&S. He didn’t go into details but assured him the proper people were looking into the situation.

  Cannon did tell him Sam wouldn’t be joining them on this mission and wasn’t sure if Kong would leave her. In a way, Rico hoped Kong didn’t. His focus wouldn’t be on the case, it would be back at home with her. That was a recipe for disaster and Kong was smart enough to know it.

  Just to be sure his bases were covered, Ricochet walked to the motel office and reserved two more rooms. Since he and Veronica were the only ones occupying any space at the place, there were no problems. Miss Dane gave him curious looks but never questioned him about what was going on.

  Once back inside the room he realized he’d taken care of everything he could for now. It was only nine o’clock and he wasn’t the least bit tired. The only thing to do was watch TV. Reluctantly, he turned it on a flipped through the four channels three times.

  He could watch church, cooking, cartoons or a lame action adventure movie that portrayed an over-handsome, too young, ex-military snot as a savior to a bunch of young women trapped in a haunted ghost town. Within half an hour he was fast asleep.

  His peaceful slumber was shattered by a hysterical knocking at his door. He jumped from bed, grabbed his gun from the nightstand and looked through the peephole. Veronica was standing on the other side beating on his door.

  He jerked it open, stumbling when she threw herself at him wearing nothing but a T-shirt and nearly climbing his body.

  “Shhh, what is it, babe? What’s wrong?” he asked wrapping his arms around her.

  “Bad dream, bad, bad dream.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder and dug her nails into the flesh on his back. He should have thought about that. As shaken as she was he should have known she wouldn’t sleep soundly.

  “Okay, you’re okay now. Relax.” He walked her over to his bed and sat with her. “Tell me about it.”

  “It was horrible. My mother was hanging from that noose in my apartment, looking at me with cold eyes. He was there. Holding a bag under her while her blood gushed into it, laughing.”

  The subconscious was cruel. She suffered her mother’s death once, now it was making her suffer through it again adding its own twist. He pushed her hair from her face and made her look at him.

  “It was just a dream. A mixture of things thrown together, not real at all.”

  “I know, but it was so horrible,” she said leaning against him. “I can’t be alone.”

  “You don’t have to be alone. I’m here,” he said smoothing her long, flowing hair down her back.

  “Can I stay with you, here? I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “You aren’t sleeping on the floor. Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “That isn’t fair to you.”

  “A gentleman doesn’t let a woman sleep on the floor. I’ll be fine.”

  He got her settled, covered and setup a place for himself. “I’m gonna go make sure your door is locked, I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay,” she said yawning.

  He stepped outside, opened her door, looked around, turned off the lights and locked it. When he got back into his own room she was sound asleep. He stood there a minute gazing at her. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed, her long eyelashes fanned across the tops of her cheeks and her ebony hair cascading over the side of the bed.

  He knelt down beside her and lightly ran his fingers over her hair. Pride swelled in his chest. She was trying so hard to be brave when he knew she was scared to death. Hell, he was scared to death. She knew she was going to have to fight tooth and nail to survive this. Grear wasn’t going to let someone outside his circle, who knew who he really was, live. His whole way of life was at stake. By helping her they all were in danger.

  “I won’t let anythin’ happen to ya. I promise,” he vowed in a whisper.

  Tired and worried he turned off the light, settled on the floor and stared into the darkness. This wasn’t a good mission for Sam to be missing out on. They could sure use her otherworldly guidance, but then maybe they weren’t supposed to have it. Fate had a strange way of manipulating lives. Who was he to question it?

  With a huge yawn he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the half-naked woman he loved just inches away from him. When this was over he was going to have to have a serious talk with her, if they both lived through it.

  Slowly coming out of his deep sleep he had the feeling someone was watching him. He opened his eyes and blinked several times. It was still dark, not morning yet.

  “Ricochet.”

  Veronica’s soft voice woke him the rest of the way up. “Yeah?”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  He rolled to his side facing the bed and propped his head on his hand. “Another bad dream?”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong, then?”

  She reached down and ran the tip of her finger down his arm, tracing the muscle. Fire ignited in the pit of his stomach, warming his blood instantly. He fought it and the urge to touch her back. She only wanted sex, not his love and until she was willing to believe he loved her he wasn’t going to touch her.

  “Not gonna happen, babe,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Do you believe I love you?”

  “No.”

  “Then it ain’t gonna happen.” He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

  “You’re telling me you don’t want to have sex with me?”

  Her shocked voice pleased him. “No. I didn’t say that. I want to have sex with ya, but until you accept that I love ya, I won’t.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “Nope,” he said folding his arms behind his head.

  The room went silent again. If she only knew what it took for him to turn her down, she wouldn’t dismiss his feelings so fast. He was nearly on the verge of sleep again when she spoke.

  “Let me get this straight. You won’t have sex with me because you love me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But the other night you had sex with me and didn’t love me.”

  “Didn’t know I loved ya yet.” She was going to beat this to a pulp, he could see it coming.

  “That doesn’t make any sense at all, you know that right?”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  “Of course it does,” she muttered.

  He could hear her rustling around on the bed and smiled to himself. Every once in a while she whispered something incoherent. As he was ready to drift back into blissful sleep she’d move, making the bed creak. He thought about making it clear for her but decided against it. He could make her just as crazy as she made him.

  “Shower’s free if ya need it,” he finally said.

  Her reply was a kick to the ribs before she stepped over him and headed, he’d guessed it, straight to the bathroom.

  “She wouldn’t.”

  When the water turned on he buried his head under his pillow and cursed himself.

  “Stay put, man, that’s exactly what she wants, you to follow her in there.”

  It wasn’t long before soft little groans and gasps floated into the room. He clenched his jaw listening for a while until he thought he’d explode. Unable to tolerate it any longer he got up, turned on the TV and cranked the volume. He’d rather listen to cartoons then suffer through her self-enjoyment.

  Sensing her rather than hearing her walk back into the room, he rolled to his side and pretended he was asleep. She turned off the TV and climbed back into bed. He bit his tongue to keep from slinging a smart remark to her. He’d learned his lesson. Her reactions to them caused him nothing but pain in his g
roin.

  By the time the sun came up he’d managed a few hours of restless sleep. Dreams of her plagued him all night long. The discomfort and throbbing down below soured his mood before he had a chance to even start his day. He sat up, glanced at the bed and scowled. She was smiling in her sleep.

  He rose, tiptoed as lightly as he could to the bathroom, turned on the cold water and jumped in. The shock to his system did the trick. His erection withered under the icy spray. Now that he was back to normal, or as normal as he could be, he warmed the water and showered.

  She was just waking up when he returned to the room.

  “Morning,” she said stretching under the covers.

  “Morning,” he answered pulling on his pants. “The team will be here in a few hours. If ya want breakfast, get movin’.”

  “Someone’s in a pissy mood this morning.”

  Could she blame him? After what she put him through last night any man would be hateful. Didn’t matter, soon his friends would be here to rescue him from the vixen of hell.

  “Ricochet, are you mad at me?”

  He tugged his shirt on, buttoning it while he thought about how to reply to that question. Was he angry with her? He wasn’t sure himself.

  “No,” he decided.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  Her sweet, innocent tone pushed him over the edge. “What’s wrong? You have the nerve to ask what’s wrong?” He tossed his arms in the air and let them drop to his sides. “Gee I don’t know. Let’s see,” he said tapping his finger against his lips. “I told you last night that I love you—which I might add is somethin’ I’ve never told any woman before—only to be told that I didn’t by you. Suddenly you know my feelin’s better than I do. Then you try to initiate sex with me. When I decline because I’m tryin’ to be a gentleman and prove to ya that it’s more than sex I want from ya, ya find it necessary to torture me with your shower escapade.”

  He slipped his wallet into his pants pockets, snatched his cell phone off the small table under the window and turned to her. “Let me tell ya, Veronica, wakin’ up with the hard-on of the century and havin’ nothin’ to do with it puts a man in a bad mood. Now, get your ass dressed and I’ll buy ya breakfast.”