Ricochet (29 page)

She was avoiding him.

Ryker stabbed at a piece of pancake as Marx rambled on about some more goddamned rules Ryker wasn’t going to follow anyway, so he’d tuned the jackass out as soon as he’d sat at the table. But the cook who’d shown up that morning was already shutting down the kitchen, and Rachel hadn’t come in for breakfast.

The incident last night had spooked her as badly as he’d feared. He’d tried to tell himself all damn night that she’d be fine by morning. That this wasn’t a setback.

“So, we’ll go up and mark and drill this morning for the RDX,” Marx was saying.

Ryker didn’t even bother to look at the ass. He kept staring at the door, willing her to walk through. Or, better yet, willing this developing hole in his chest to close up. “No. We’re rigging the catwalk and the safety lines today. If that goes well, then we’ll drill.”

“I want to be here when you—”

“Then you’ll have to stay on site twenty-four-seven, Marx.” Ryker finally turned his gaze on the man. “Because I’m not working around your stupid-ass three days a week. I don’t need an insurance man babysitting me, and the steel disks I’m using in the holes to keep the RDX from blowing out the bottom of the road and damaging the integrity of the structure aren’t here yet. Remember? Safety first? Rachel or I will have the whole action plan to you by the end of the day.”

Ryker pushed his chair back and glanced at the three others sitting with them. “Ray and Brad, haul the ropes up top. Charlie, grab the carabineers, harnesses, hardhats, and tools. I’ll meet you guys at the south end of the bridge at oh-eight-thirty.”

“Why are you starting at the south end?” Marx asked, ready to throw another wrench into Ryker’s life.

“Check the weather before you ask stupid questions,” he said. “And stay the hell out of my way today if you don’t want to go over the side, Marx.”

After dumping his tray, Ryker stepped outside the dining hall and watched delivery trucks back into the loading dock. Six more employees had come on this morning, and most of those were unloading, stocking, and taking inventory of the new supplies, then delivering them to different areas of the site.

He could see how quickly this place would become a hive of activity. Which was even better for hiding a covert affair. But somehow, he doubted Rachel would see it that way. And the fact that he knew what she’d say before he even walked into the office seriously irked him.

At the door, he heard familiar voices and rolled his eyes. Great. He wouldn’t even be able to get her alone for a decent two-minute conversation. He stepped in to find Katie and Kelly on their way out.

“Oh, look who’s here,” One of them said as they both stopped in front of him and gave him their full attention. “Did you miss us last night?”

“Being into someone who’s not around,” the other twin said, “isn’t going to keep you warm at night, handsome.”

The first one put a hand on his arm as she passed by. “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”

He waited until they were gone to wander into the office. Rachel stood at the printer, head bent over a sheaf of papers. She wore ink-black jeans that hugged her gorgeous legs and rode low on her hips. The pockets were jeweled, drawing his gaze to her ass, as if he needed any help there. Her blouse was a sheer pattern of cobalt and violet with a thin-strapped halter beneath. She’d wound her hair into a loose bun, and dark tendrils lay against her slender neck.

An uncomfortable feeling stirred deep inside him. One that made him clench his teeth. It had been nagging at him for a few days but now seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach like a stone that wouldn’t go away. Sometimes it felt like anger. Sometimes pain. Sometimes loss. But when it came to Rachel, he often thought it felt more like want. One with the potential to become something fierce if Ryker looked too closely.

He walked into her office and stopped a few feet past the door. “Hey.”

She turned and glanced his way, but her gaze didn’t stay on him longer than a second before it darted away. “Hey.”

Her face was drawn, and her eyes were red. Alarm tightened his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

She moved behind one of the two desks, set the paper down, and cleared her throat. But she still didn’t answer.

He moved to the front of her desk. “Rachel?”

She licked her lips. Cleared her throat. “No. I’m…not okay. I’m…actually…pretty fucked up, to tell you the truth.”

Fear tingled across his neck. He wanted to walk around the desk and pull her into his arms but knew that would totally freak her out. So he pulled his hands from his pockets, and pressed his fingertips to the desktop. “Baby, talk to me.”

Her gaze was a mixture of torture and distance. He knew instantly she was going to push him away, and tensed.

“I…want you,” she said. “More than I’ve wanted anyone in so long.. But taking what I want at the expense of others isn’t… It just isn’t who I am. And almost having the two most influential men in my professional life right now find out we’d been together last night…” She pressed a hand to her forehead, and the distress in her expression tore at him. “That would be absolutely...traumatic. Not only to my life, but to yours. And the crew’s. And...we’ve already talked about this.” She dropped her hand from her brow. “And it’s not like I even have a good reason for doing it. It’s not like we’ve got any plans to take this beyond next week. It’s not like this is…you know…”

His heart hardened. “Important?”

“Don’t trivialize this, Nathan.” Anger flared in her words. “You may screw around like this all the time, but this is a big deal for me.”

“You think me wanting to be with you is trivial?”

“That’s…that’s not what I said.”

He should just let it go. Walk away. But that damn pull in his chest wouldn’t let him. “Rachel,” he said, forcing his voice soft, “we can end the whole problem by just coming clean. Just bringing it out in the open.”

“It?” she asked, eyes narrowed. “What exactly would ‘it’ be? The fact that we’re fucking?” She crossed her arms. “No, thanks. I’d rather not have my sexual business open to my boss’s and coworkers’ scrutiny.”

He pushed off the desk and straightened. “Now who’s trivializing?”

The outer office door opened, and Rachel’s nervous gaze darted that direction. Fresh frustration burned beneath his skin. Never a moment alone.

“Good morning.” Marx’s voice was the last thing Ryker needed to hear right now. “Do you have that SOP for me?”

“Yes.” She picked up the stack of papers she’d been looking at when Ryker walked in and handed it to Marx without her typical enthusiasm. He must have noticed, because he cast a suspicious glance between her and Ryker. “I’ll finish up the action plan with Ryker’s changes today, then have him finalize it. I should have it for you later.”

“You always come through on everything important,” Marx said, skimming the SOP.

Ryker felt an ice pick dig into his chest. He dropped his arms and met Rachel’s guilty gaze steadily. “Now there’s something we can both agree on, Marx. And, lucky for you, her priorities seem to be set in stone.”

At two p.m. Ryker pulled the work truck into a spot near the storage lot and climbed from the cab. He was sweaty, dirty, and hungry, but his mind was absorbed with Rachel, and his gaze scoured the office looking for some sign of her. The blinds were closed against the afternoon sun, which was just as well. What the hell did they have to talk about anymore anyway?

He rounded the truck and met Charlie beside a stack of boxes and pallets of supplies delivered that morning while they’d been on the bridge. “Did they come?”

Charlie squinted at a clipboard beneath the shadow of a hardhat brim, a pencil skimming the packing-order list. He shook his head. “Doesn’t look like it.”

Ryker wiped dirt and sweat from his face with a quick swipe of his hand. “Fuck.”

Charlie lowered the clipboard and searched through the boxes again. “I’ll look again, then I’ll call the company and rip them a new asshole.”

Ryker pulled off his own helmet and tossed it into the back of his truck. They’d rigged the catwalk and safety lines quickly that morning, so they’d moved on to drilling for the explosives as well. But he was stuck now until the steel shims came in. Then they could start stuffing holes with RDX, add timers, and blast.

“I’m going to see if Rachel finished the action plan,” he said. “See if it got past Marx.”

“Joy,” Charlie said, his voice dry. “If I find the shims I’ll let you know.”

On the walk to Rachel’s office, Ryker mentally prepared himself for her indifference. Visualized himself seeing her and feeling blank instead of needy.

And happy.

No. Women didn’t make him happy. Women excited. Women entertained. Women satisfied. Women did not make him
happy
.

As he pushed through the front door to Rachel’s office, Ryker reminded himself that he should be glad that Rachel was falling into that pattern too, because she certainly wasn’t making him happy now.

Voices floated from the larger space. He passed through the small front area and found Katie and Kelly in the office behind the desks. One had her feet up on the desktop, ankles crossed, a magazine in her lap. The other had her feet up on the desktop, her ankles crossed, a nail file in her hand.

“Oh, thank you God,” the one with the nail file said. “Finally, a little eye candy.”

Ryker wasn’t in the mood for their flirty games. “Where’s Rachel?”

The one with the magazine glanced up, then back, and flipped a page. “She and Josh went into town.”

“Town?” The nearest “town” was over half an hour away. “For what?”

“Probably for a quickie in one the hotels,” one of the twins said, followed by a giggle.

“Oooo,” the other one said, “there’s some brain candy for my afternoon.”

Ryker fisted his hands. “Ladies.”

They both looked up and read his frustrated expression. The one with the nail file shrugged. “She said something about—”

“Grabbing lunch,” the other one said, returning her gaze to the magazine, “and picking up supplies.”

So, she could go somewhere alone with Marx but didn’t dare associate with Ryker.

“Oh,” one of the women said, “she left this for you in case you came in.”

Ryker turned back and found the twin working on her nails taping the file against a stack of papers at the edge of Rachel’s desk. He stepped forward and picked it up, reading the title. It was the action-sequence plan. And at the top, a red stamp of APPROVED with Marx’s initials glaring up at Ryker.

Maybe she was out giving Marx a bonus for that approval.

The idea flitted out of his mind as quickly as it flitted in. He didn’t believe that.

At least…he didn’t think he did.

But either way, it didn’t matter.

“Thanks.” He started to turn.

“Oh,” the other woman said. “She also said to tell you a handful of the contractors came in. They’re filling out HR paperwork in the dining room.”

“Okay.” He carried the plan back to the stockyard.

“Sorry, man,” Charlie said when Ryker approached. “They’re not here. Company fucked up and didn’t put them in the order. They’re overnighting them and eating the shipping cost. They’ll be here by ten thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Shit.” Ryker smacked the papers on the side of the truck bed.

“What’s that?” Charlie asked.

Ryker’s cell chimed, and he pushed the action plan into Charlie’s hand and pulled his phone from his pocket, hoping for a message from Rachel. Something like,
“I’m sorry I overreacted this morning. Let’s get together tonight.”

Instead it was a simple message from Chappie with Carmello’s home address.

Darkness fell over Ryker like a heavy blanket. Obligation added a lead lining.

“This is good news,” Charlie said. “We might not be able to rig the bridge for the finale yet, but we can get the shaped charges cut, the ignitions wired and taped. The C4 cut, slap on the blasting caps.”

“And you’ve got a lot of help for that,” Ryker said, pushing his phone back into his pocket. “Another half dozen of the guys are here.”

“Perfect. Where?”

“Dining room with paperwork.”

Charlie nodded. “I’ve got this. Take the afternoon. Grab a shower and a nap. Get out of here for a few hours while you can.”

Ryker squinted out over the rolling green hills, his gut squeezing like a fist. “Do you know how far Santa Ynez is from here?”

“About an hour or so south. Cute town.” Charlie turned his attention back to the action plan and pulled out a pen from his vest pocket to scribble notes. “Enjoy yourself, boss.”

Ryker certainly wasn’t enjoying himself as he sat in his truck in front of Carmello’s little bungalow-style home on a quiet street in Santa Ynez.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d expected, but the setting was a lot cheerier than he’d ever imagined—for Carmello, for the situation, or maybe just for Ryker’s own state of mind. The house’s exterior was covered in pale yellow shingles, the window and door casings crisp white, the roof light-gray composite tile. The yard had a small, neatly mowed lawn and bright flowerbeds all around the foundation.

Ryker would have been sure he had the wrong house, but an American flag flew proudly outside the front door, and yellow ribbon had been wound around the metal banisters leading up the front steps, tied off in bows. In the front windows, a child’s drawings of tanks, soldiers, and more American flags decorated the glass.

Ryker’s knee bounced as he stared at the bright green lawn. His hands clenched around the steering wheel while his mind catalogued everything Mike’s wife, Julie, had to handle now that Mike couldn’t—mowing the lawn, fixing the house, dishes, cleaning, laundry, driving, playing with their son…

“Let me go. I’m already dead.”

Ryker shuddered, and a chill spread through his body from the center out.

“Fuck.” Ryker lowered his head into his hand and rubbed at the sting in his eyes. He saw Carmello as he had in those last moments, before the medics had thrown him on a stretcher and raced him to a waiting jeep—a bloody torso with a head and one arm. Hardly a man.

“Let me go. I’m already dead.”