Locked & Loaded (Ricochet 1)

Quinn didn’t know if she should be flattered or angry at the way Rick devoured her with his gaze or at his patronizing nickname. He was striking— tall, dark, and handsome — with a hint of danger surrounding him. And his eyes! They were the brightest, most unbelievable shade of aquamarine that Quinn had ever seen. They matched the Caribbean blue of the faded T-shirt that stretched over his well-defined chest. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone with eyes like that before. Primitive lust coiled inside her, making her heat up from the inside out.

Still, even with his stunning perfection and the hormonal reaction she had to him, Rick was kind of irritating, all flirty and good-looking, slinging lines and eyeing Quinn as if she were naked and spread out on a buffet. Definitely a stereotypical bad boy, one Quinn would make sure to stay far away from.

Yeah, I’ve had enough of the bad boy image to last a lifetime.

She decided to nip this att

raction in the bud before it started. Quinn made her face blandly neutral as she spoke.

“Well, if you know Mack, I’m assuming you know your way around so you don’t need me. If you don’t mind.” She forced herself to tear her attention away from the stunning man, turning back to her computer as if he wasn’t the walking, talking image of Adonis.

“Nice to meet you… Quinn. Be good, doll,” Rick said, a smile evident in his rich voice even though she couldn’t see it.

A quiet beep let her know that Rick swiped a card through a keypad mounted on the wall, unlocking the sealed door that led further into the facility. She heard the soft click of the door relocking when it closed behind him.

“Jesus,” Quinn whispered, wanting to fan herself dramatically. Were there really men walking around looking like that? She blinked hard a few times to clear her mind of Rick and his gorgeous eyes, and chest, and biceps, and ass… crud. Inhaling deep to slow down her racing hormones and stop the tingling feelings they inspired, Quinn focused on the figures Mack asked her to enter into the financial spreadsheets.

Throughout the day, her mind inadvertently kept drifting back to Rick. No, she scolded herself. He was bad news, and bad was not what she needed right now— or ever. Resigned to keeping him firmly in the category of “look but don’t touch”, she continued to work. Her little pep talk seemed to have done the trick. She was proud that she managed to forget about Rick for a whole five minutes.

RICK HEADED TO the offices at the back of the building. Sanctum, an MMA training facility, was renowned in the fighting world for their world-class experts and varied training techniques. Besides Rick’s Muay Thai skills, they also had a Ju Jitsu titleholder, a champion kick boxer, a Kyokushin karate black belt, a Russian Sambo specialist, and a traditional boxing instructor. Rising MMA hopefuls from all over the world applied to get a chance to train at Sanctum. What they didn’t know, was that each trainer had other skills in their various backgrounds. Skills necessary to carry out Sanctum’s real purpose.

Rick was dragging badly. He needed coffee, ASAP. He went directly to the break room, following the scent of a fresh pot and poured a cup.

“Finally! Here we were thinking you were waiting on an engraved invitation, Ricochet.”

Rick didn’t need to turn away from the break room coffee pot to know who was harassing him.

“Hey killer, good morning to you too.” Rick stirred some creamer into his mug and leaned back on the counter, facing the huge former Navy SEAL slash Jiu Jitsu expert. “I’m only twenty minutes late. Mack can’t possibly be that angry already.”

He could, he was probably fuming mad.

Dane Nolan slid his size fourteen booted feet off of the small break room table and stood up. His six foot four inch frame moved as easily and nimbly as a jungle cat. There was no mistaking that the man was a lethal weapon. It shined in his dark eyes, the shrewd way he took in everything around him, strategizing his exit points and constantly planning for attack every second of every day.

Right now, this very dangerous man was getting up in Rick’s face, and Rick found it damn amusing.

“Daney… killer,” Rick said with a smirk as he sipped his coffee, “what are you doing?” Rick loved poking the big man. With Rick’s penchant for silly nicknames and Dane’s utter disdain for them, it was always entertaining to watch his reaction.

The large blonde man carefully looked Rick up and down, like one would check out a thoroughbred racehorse they were interested in purchasing. He leaned in close, his nose almost touching Rick’s neck, and sniffed.

Rick didn’t move an inch, but he did watch his co-worker as he invaded his personal space.

“Just seeing if I could smell the gunpowder, Rick.”

“Gunpowder?”

“From your latest ricochet. You know, hit the target, skip out of her bed and on to the next one, leaving destruction in your wake. Mack’s gonna kill you if he finds out that you’re late because you were getting your nuts off.”

Rick put his free hand on Dane’s wide chest and shoved. “Get out of my face, man.” He couldn’t help but laugh with his friend and coworker. Rick didn’t admit to Dane that he was right about why he was late.

“Hey,” Dane joked, “you wouldn’t have earned the nickname if it wasn’t true.”

Rick refilled his mug and followed Dane out of the break room. “Ever stop to think it’s because my name is Rick?”

Dane stopped in the hall, looking over his shoulder with a grin. “Never. Now c’mon. Mack is waiting to debrief us.”

“Great,” Rick groaned as they entered the conference room.

Dane lifted his chin to greet the gruff, fifty-something year-old man sitting at one end of the large table. “Mack.”