Locked & Loaded (Ricochet 1)

He briefly toyed with the idea of letting this woman blow him in the bathroom and changed his mind. “Nah, not tonight.” Rick dismissed the woman with a wink and turned back to his drink, drumming his fingers on the bar. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t in the mood for a hookup tonight. No, instead he was twitchy and restless, as if his own skin didn’t fit right. Rick threw some money on the bar, pissed that his night didn’t go as planned, and stormed out.

By the time he got back to his Midtown condo, he was even more agitated and fidgety than he had been at the bar—and after thinking about Quinn the whole ride home, he now had an erection hard enough to pound nails. He poured a rather large scotch and paced back and forth in front of his windows for over an hour, cursing himself for allowing Quinn to wiggle her way into his life so quickly.

Rick replayed the afternoon in his head. Once he got Quinn out of her place and into the store, she became playful, almost mischievous. Her features lit up with a joy he wouldn’t have thought the introverted girl was capable of if he hadn’t seen it for himself. Unfortunately, the minute they got back to her little apartment above the gym, she reverted right back into the timid, nervous wreck he had met earlier.

Quinn didn’t ask him to stay or for help putting her groceries away. She simply thanked him for the ride and hustled him out the door as quickly as possible. Rick thought he had made progress with getting her to relax around him. They were getting along great, and then… nothing. She may as well have said “don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out”.

Closing his eyes, he decided he would try going out again tomorrow night. Maybe a different bar would inspire him to find someone. Possibly a brunette… with large eyes the color of caramel.

Fuck!

Agitated, Rick half-heartedly watched a Braves game until he was tired enough to go to bed. He stripped down to his briefs, checked his Glock 22 before slipping it under his pillow, made sure his Marine-issued KA-BAR knife was within reach on his nightstand and fell asleep, determined to put the beautiful, cock-blocking Quinn Wallace out of his mind for good.

“QUINN! HOW WAS your first few weeks of work?”

Quinn had been trying to get a cup of coffee from the break room, hoping to escape back to her desk without anyone noticing. Wincing, she twisted around to see who found her.

“Mack.” Her tense posture instantly relaxed at the sight of the friendly yet frequently bad-tempered man. He was never ill towards Quinn. He always treated her kindly and with respect. She actually found it pretty entertaining when Mack would yell at one of the burly, muscled men and they would stand there and take it without uttering a single word.

“It’s been wonderful, really. Thank you so much for taking me on.” She shifted awkwardly, so out of practice with making casual conversation that she wasn’t sure what else to say.

“No need to thank me, Quinn. It’s great to have you here. We need a woman around here to keep the guys respectable.” Mack laughed, a warm, friendly laugh that reminded Quinn of her dad.

Quinn smiled at her father’s best friend. Mack seemed to know exactly what to say to make her feel appreciated and less like an annoyance. Two years with Travis and she never felt as welcome as she had in the three weeks since arriving at Sanctum.

“I should get to the front. It’s almost nine.”

“Sure, Quinn. I’ll bring you a few invoices I need entered once I get organized.”

Mack’s genuine smile left her feeling warm and fuzzy. A way she hadn’t felt since her mom died eleven years ago when she was just twelve.

Quinn left the back offices, crossing through the main gym to reach the front lobby. The space had been empty a few minutes ago, but now there was a man repeatedly kicking a large black bag on the other side of the gym. Not just any man, but what Quinn thought could possibly be the most perfect specimen of masculinity she’d ever laid eyes on. Normally, she would hurry past, not wanting to witness the violence these men could unleash, but the sight in front of her pulled her in like a magnet.

The man’s back was facing Quinn, giving her a full view of his flawless body as he executed each graceful move. Clad only in a pair of black and red fight shorts, she watched as each well-defined muscle in his back rippled, stretched, and flexed with every kick. Sweat beaded, then dripped off of his tan skin, giving her the overwhelming urge to catch each rivulet with her tongue, one by one. When he stopped to hike up his shorts, Quinn noticed a stippled scar high up on the back of one of his legs. It didn’t detract from his beauty. In fact, it only added to his rugged appeal.

Quinn was lost in her little fantasy when she realized the kicks had stopped and the room was deathly silent. Her eyes flicked up from the man’s gorgeous body to land on his face.

Uh-oh.

She found herself staring directly into the deep turquoise eyes of Rick Brennan.

AFTER NINE YEARS in the Marine Corps, seven in Special Forces, Rick had a very well developed sixth sense. He knew when there were eyes on him. It was ingrained in his training and necessary to survival in the field. Right now, the prickly feeling was sliding down his spine as he repeatedly kicked the heavy bag. He finished his reps before stopping to see who was behind him.

Turning slowly, Rick stared across the gym.

Quinn.

Even from far away he could tell she was checking him out. He’d seen that look on dozens of women’s faces before. Rick didn’t speak, deciding to let her get her fill, taking pleasure in the way her eyes raked over his chest, which was still heaving from exertion. Quinn’s gaze finally met his and he swore he felt a crackle of electricity jump between them. It took all of Rick’s effort to stop the way his dick was responding to that heated stare. Suddenly, he was infinitely thankful for the athletic cup he was wearing. At least that would spare him the embarrassment of tenting his shorts as Quinn shot lustful glances his way.

The corner of Rick’s mouth curved up when he saw Quinn’s cheeks turn pink with an adorable blush at being caught gawking. He padded towards her, his movements nearly silent as his bare feet glided over the mats that lined the room.

Quinn’s amber eyes widened as he approached, discomfort clearly written all over her beautiful features. Rick desperately wanted to press those soft curves up against the wall and taste those red lips, especially after seeing the raw hunger in her eyes as she checked out his body. But after getting the skittish girl to somewhat trust him on Saturday, he didn’t want to ruin his progress by pawing all over her.

“Hello, doll.”

“Rick,” she breathed, then cleared her throat and looked at the floor.

After her bizarre reaction last Saturday, Rick made sure to leave a few feet of space between Quinn and himself when he stopped in front of her. She visibly unwound at his non-threatening approach, the tiny lines on her forehead smoothed out and her downturned mouth curved into a small smile.