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

by Miller, Robin Leigh

  When the two men gave them some room he whispered. “I thought he was going to kill you, babe.” They were inches apart, her warm breath washed across his face making his head spin more. His arms ached to hold her.

  “I thought you were dead,” she replied in a barely audible whisper.

  “Who killed him?”

  “She snapped his neck like a fucking twig,” Boomer said walking past them.

  She closed her eyes then, squeezing out one single tear that trickled down her cheek and dripped off her chin. He caught it on his index finger and rubbed it against his thumb. This was what she’d have to live with, the knowledge that she took a life. No matter how evil the man was, she ended his life. They’d never spoken about it, but he was sure she’d never taken a life with her bare hands before.

  “It was the only way, baby. Don’t forget that.” He lifted her chin with his tear-stained finger. Her beautiful skin bore the marks of Grear’s hands. All that long, silky, ink-black hair frizzed and knotted at the back of her head. He wished he’d been the one to end that miserable son of a bitch’s life.

  Her head nodded with a harsh jerk. “I just want it to be over.”

  “Then we better get to making plans.

  * * * * *

  It took everything he had to concentrate on what was being said at the table. His body insisted on shutting down, sleep tugged at him relentlessly. Laying his head down and drifting off wasn’t an option. They were discussing Veronica’s life and he needed to make sure they weren’t being careless with it. Not that Kong and Boomer would be, still, in his mind, it was his duty to keep his woman safe.

  Only bits and pieces of the conversation penetrated the thick shield of haze in his head. The harder he concentrated the more exhausted he became. Glancing across the table he noticed the empty look in Veronica’s eyes. Color was leaking back into her skin and she didn’t seem to be shaking nearly as badly now. Keeping her mind occupied with the plans seemed to be keeping her shock at bay. But what would happen when this was over? The idea of taking her away sounded better all the time.

  “Okay, I need to call my superior and fill him in.” Kong said pulling out his phone.

  They were done? Damn, he was really off his game. Boomer would have to fill him in.

  “Hey, man, I missed most of that. What are we doin’?”

  Boomer scrunched his face up and starred at him. After few moments he began. “They think he’s watching, keeping his eye open for her. So, she’s gonna make her presence known at the hotel, try to draw him out. The plan is for you to be inside with her, but I’m thinking one of us should cover that.”

  “Hell no.” He had to be the one to do this. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle this.”

  “You don’t look like you could handle a damn broom and dust pan right now, much less any kind of hand-to-hand. How many of me do you see right now anyway?”

  “One too many. Look, odds are he won’t show up in the next twenty-four hours. He knows she has us so he’ll scope it out, at least for a day or so. By then I’ll be back to the old Ricochet.” He hoped the cocky smile he desperately tried for was working. Boomer’s raised eyebrow and “yeah, right” expression said it didn’t.

  “They’re gonna get a news crew out to the hotel and air some half-baked story about how her apartment burned. That should show him she’s still here and where she is. It won’t take long after that.”

  Boomer may not buy he was okay, but he knew him well enough to know that trying to keep him out of the plan was a bad idea. “That sounds good.”

  “Between Cannon and our buddy Dan there, we should be ready in a few hours to air her story.”

  “That’s fast.” He realized then that he had no idea who the hell they were working with. “Hey ah, who are these people anyway?”

  Boomer shook his head and chuckled. “You did miss out on a lot, didn’t ya? CIA, buddy, more like a branch of the CIA. Very secret.” He said putting his finger to his lips. “They make sure scum like Grear don’t make it too far up the food chain.”

  “They dropped the ball on this one,” Ricochet muttered.

  “Don’t be so hard on them. Grear reached out and touched a hell of a lot of people. Even after this is over they won’t know for sure how far this went.”

  Kong sauntered over, gave Ricochet a once over and called the rest of the team. “This is what we’re gonna do. We,” he said, circling his finger and pointing to all of them, “are going to head to the hotel first and get ourselves in position. Rico, you’re gonna get in her hotel room and stay put. Ronnie will come in later alone. After the story on her airs, we hunker down and keep our eyes open.”

  Dan stepped forward. “The news team will be there within the hour.”

  “That was fast,” Gunner grunted.

  Dan simply smiled. “Grear wasn’t the only one who could manipulate things.”

  “What about him? How are you going to explain the death of a presidential candidate?” Dragon asked.

  “That’s already taken care of.”

  “Okay, team. Let’s roll.”

  Everyone headed to the door. Ricochet grabbed Ronnie by the arm. “You okay with all of this?”

  Her spine stiffened, she held her head high and looked him straight in the eye. “It’s the only way.”

  He nodded in agreement, let her go and watched her walk tall through the door. A strange thought slipped through his foggy head. Moms was gonna love her grit and determination.

  * * * * *

  Ronnie slipped behind the wheel of the car and waited for the remaining suit to give her the go ahead. While they planned their strategy, some of the CIA team retrieved the remaining vehicles at the barn. It had been a good half hour since her team and the others left. They should be in position now, waiting for their bait to show up.

  Once she arrived she’d have to clean up quickly and make herself presentable for the news report. Dan had worked out a story, it was up to her to elaborate on it. The idea was for her to grab the hearts of the community and play the fact that she’d lost everything she owned. A human interest piece, Dan called it.

  At this point she didn’t care. He could have told her to tell the world aliens had abducted her, burned her home and dumped her in the middle of the street and she would have gone along with it. The situation had become so large she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around it.

  Then there was Ricochet. He may be breathing and walking but he looked like death. So pale and the way his eyes wobbled around was a clear indication of a concussion. As they discussed how she’d lure Grear’s henchman in she watched him struggle to stay conscious. She wanted to pull him to her, wrap her arms around him and soothe away his pain.

  “Okay, Ms. Holter. They’re ready. Remember to be as calm as possible and don’t look around for them. They can see you. You won’t be able to see them.”

  Under normal circumstances she would have snapped at a comment like that. She wasn’t a rookie. She knew what she was doing. But this wasn’t normal. She was deliberately drawing a desperate killer to her. Instead she started the car and pulled away.

  Running the story she’d tell to the media through her mind kept her focused. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. When she pulled into the parking lot of the hotel she glanced over at the lit office. Instead of Miss Dane, she saw a young woman in the window. They’d obviously replaced Miss Dane with one of Dan’s people. That was good. Having the sweet old woman harmed would have been the last straw in this nightmare.

  She slid from the car and began walking toward her room. Each step was an effort. Her limbs were heavy, tired and ached. A hot bath and a few hours of sleep would be heaven. When she reached the door she patted at her pockets looking for the key.

  “Great. I lost it.” How the hell was she supposed to get in?

  The door knob turned, opening the door just a crack. Panic seized her body for a split second. Was he already here? Then she remembered. Ricochet. Without hesitation
she pushed through the door into the dark room.

  As soon as it closed behind her she felt his thick, strong arms wrap around her torso and pull her to him. He buried his face in her neck and breathed heavily. Tingles skipped across her skin feeling his warmth.

  “Carl,” she sighed melting against him.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t wait another second. I had to hold you.”

  “Don’t let go.” He felt so good she couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “Ricochet, everything okay in there?” Kong’s voice crackled over a radio.

  She felt him lift his arm to his mouth. “Fine.”

  “Reporter in about ten.”

  “Copy that,” he responded and gave her a gentle squeeze. “You have to get ready. They’ll be here soon.”

  She didn’t want to leave the comfort and safety of his arms, but she had a job to finish. “Okay. I need to clean up quick.”

  “Let me get to the bathroom before you turn the lights on.”

  When he pulled away from her she wanted to groan and run to him, plaster herself against his rock-hard body and never leave. What she wouldn’t give to forget about all this and fall asleep next to him on that ratty bed. But this needed to end and the sooner she ended it the sooner they could be together.

  “Okay, babe, hit the lights.”

  She flicked the switch on the wall and squinted against the bright light. Ricochet peeked out of the bathroom, crooking his finger at her. Before she went to him she grabbed a clean shirt and jeans. As soon as she walked into the bathroom she caught her reflection in the mirror.

  “Holy shit, Ricochet. Why didn’t you tell me I looked like hell?” Her hair was tangled, frizzy and knotted. Her swollen face was bruised and dirty.

  “You look like a creamy chocolate angel to me.”

  “Yeah, how many angels do you see?”

  “Two and I’m in love with them both. Come on, we need to get movin’.”

  He helped her tug off the torn, filthy shirt. As she removed her jeans, he ran hot water over a wash cloth.

  “You better do it. I don’t want to hurt ya,” he said handing it to her.

  “What am I going to say about these bruises?”

  “You got ’em escapin’ the fire. Say something like you ran into something or something fell on ya. It doesn’t matter. We’re only tryin’ to get his attention.”

  She watched his eyes widen when he saw the bandage on her stomach. “It’s okay, nothing to worry about. He stabbed me with a damn pocket knife. The blade couldn’t have been more than an inch or two long. It doesn’t even hurt.”

  He swallowed hard, fire and hate in his eyes. Odd how that thrilled her inside. To have someone care about you so much they would actually seethe with hatred over the thought of someone causing harm was something new to her.

  Once her face was clean, she shimmied into her jeans and pulled on the clean T-shirt. Next came her hair.

  “This is going to take hours to comb.”

  “We don’t have hours. Don’t ya have a band or somethin’ you can pull it back with?”

  Ronnie searched through her cosmetic bag on the sink and pulled out a hair band. With swift hands, she gathered her hair, pulled it back and twisted it into a tight knot, securing it with the band.

  “That’ll have to do.”

  “You look good, babe. Now, you know what you’re gonna say?”

  “I ran over it on the way here. I think I’m good.”

  “Reporter, Ricochet. Is she ready?”

  Never taking his eyes off her he responded. “She’s ready.” He leaned forward and placed a soft, feathery kiss on her lips. “Go sell it.”

  That simple touch gave her the strength and courage she needed to get through this phony interview.

  She walked to the door, took a deep calming breath and opened it when she heard the knock. “Yes?”

  “Hi. Veronica Holter? I’m Crissy Engel with channel thirteen. We’d like do a quick interview about the fire at your apartment.” The perky, short brunette smiled.

  “Why?”

  “It’s a human interest story.”

  “Well, okay.”

  Ronnie stood patiently as the reporter fluffed her hair, straightened her blouse and then posed herself for the camera. Ronnie made sure she stood off to the side of her hotel room door so the camera was sure to get the room number.

  “We’re here at Dane Hotel with Veronica Holter. Several nights ago Veronica lost everything she owns when her apartment mysteriously caught on fire. Tell us Veronica, how did you escape and how did you get those terrible bruises on your face?”

  “Well, uh, I was sound asleep and I heard my smoke alarm go off. The apartment was already filled with black smoke, so I dropped to the floor and began feeling my way through trying to get to the front door. I have a metal book case and I bumped into it. It fell on top me, that’s how I got these bruises.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible.”

  “Well, I made it out, but I lost everything I own.” Ronnie did her best to look sad and devastated.

  “Do you have any family?”

  “No, I don’t. Miss Dane was kind enough to let me stay here until I get my feet back under me. I promised her it won’t be long. Even though I lost all my material belongings, I’m still alive and I’m a fighter. I’ll be back up and running in no time.”

  “How brave is this woman? Facing destitution, she stands strong, daring fate to put her down.”

  Ronnie nearly laughed out loud. Without knowing, the perky reporter was helping bait their target. “Oh, there isn’t anything brave about me. I do what needs to be done. I’m not sure how you people found out about me, but I appreciate the concern.”

  The reporter did her wrap up, turned to Ronnie and shook her hand. “There will be tons of donations coming in to the station for you. We’ll send them here.”

  Donations? Oh God, she didn’t want anything like that. “I don’t need any donations.”

  “None the less, people will send clothing, checks, kitchenware, things like that.”

  Great.

  Crissy shook her hand. “Good luck to you, Veronica.”

  Within minutes the woman and her cameraman were gone. Ronnie stepped back into the hotel room and let out a long breath.

  “You did good, babe.”

  “Little twit even helped us out. Did you hear that comment about how I was daring fate to put me down?”

  “I heard.” He held his arms out to her. “Come on. You need to relax a little.”

  She all but ran to him, desperate to feel his warmth again.

  “Okay, Rico. Now all we can do is wait. You two get some rest.” Kong emphasized the word rest.

  “Copy that. I’ll keep the radio on.”

  “I think I’ll soak in a tub of steaming hot water for a while. Wanna join me?”

  Ricochet chuckled. “I’d like that, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

  “Oh.” She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. He was right. He needed sleep. “Get yourself into that bed. I’ll join you when I’m done. Unless you want to sleep on the floor again.”

  His hand cupped her sore cheek. “I want you as close to me as possible. No more floor for me.”

  Ronnie went to the bathroom and turned on the water, when she came back he already had his shirt off and was removing his boots. Long, thick welts covered his broad, muscular back from where Grear’s men struck at him. He didn’t seem to notice by the way he flopped back on the bed.

  Wanting him to rest, she turned off the lights and tiptoed back to the bathroom. Before climbing into the tub, she grabbed her shampoo, conditioner and a comb and then tugged out the hairband. Getting this mess straightened out was going to be a chore.

  She removed her clothes and the bandage from her stomach and stepped into the water. As the heat seeped into her sore muscles she closed her eyes. Already she could feel the ache dissipate. The next hour consisted of yanking, slathering
conditioner and yanking some more on the rat’s nest in her hair. When the comb finally slid through easily she climbed from the tub.

  Bone tired, she went to the bed, removed her towel and lay down next to Ricochet, curling into the side of his body. Even in an unconscious state, he moaned when her bare breasts pressed against his flesh. His arm lowered from over his head and stretched down her back letting his hand rest on her ass. Safe and secure, at least for now, she drifted into sleep.

  She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she’d slept when her eyes blinked open. A thin line of sunshine streamed through the curtain at the window, right into her face. Sometime during the night Ricochet had repositioned them. She was now on her side with him spooned against her back. His large hand cupped one breast possessively and God did it feel right.

  As much as she hated to do it, she needed to leave the warm cocoon of his body. Gently she removed his hand, and slid off the side of the bed, grabbed the radio and some clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom.

  “Kong,” she whispered into it.

  “Go, Rogue.”

  So the boys had filled him in on her name. “What time is it?”

  “Almost noon.”

  “Ricochet’s still asleep and I don’t think I should wake him.”

  “Copy that. We’ll let him rest as long as possible.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt for you make yourself seen just a little.”

  Her stomach grumbled and churned, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours. “I can run across the street to the diner. My stomach wouldn’t mind some food. Dragon knows it.”

  “Okay. We’ll go with that. No wandering. Go in, eat, come out and right back to the room.”

  “Roger.”

  It didn’t take long to throw on her clothes and comb her hair. Makeup wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t out to impress anyone, just eat.

  Outside the sun was warm. She took a moment and lifted her face to the sky, enjoying the heat on her skin. Spring was in full force with the cool air and warm rays. If she wasn’t up to her neck in danger, she’d pull a chair outside, grab a book and have a little down time.