Ricochet (43 page)

No…risk.

All of which she’d had in abundance with Nathan.

Rachel waited until the last minute to hike up to the bridge, and now the camp was eerily quiet with the entire staff settling in to watch the spectacular show Nathan had planned. Only the kitchen staff bustled around the camp, preparing for the after-party.

Jax had returned midday, along with Wes, Troy, Keaton, and Duke, and all the Renegades had stopped only to poke their heads in and tell her they missed her and bitch about the temp running the office before they hightailed it up to the bridge.

Rachel made the final entry into the cost analysis sheet and looked at the total. Nathan had brought them in twenty thousand dollars under budget, meaning that as long as this stunt went off as planned, their stunt work in the Bond film would officially be declared a success, and Renegades would see a huge influx of cash, employees, and work. If something went wrong tonight…

No. She wasn’t going there. Everything would work out fine. Awesome, in fact. And Rachel was pretty damned sure that afterward, Jax and Lexi would be announcing wedding plans.

The thought made her think of Nicole. Of Dante.

And she felt nothing but a pang of regret for the whole mess. No anger. No sadness. No loss. Now she just felt lonely. And foolish.

She pulled out her phone and created a new text message.

RACHEL: I can’t forgive and forget the way everyone wants me to. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully trust you again. But you’re my sister, I’ll always love you, and I hope you and Dante find happiness.

She pressed Send, heaved a breath of relief that she wasn’t holding on to that ugly anger anymore, and turned off her phone.

With all the bookkeeping complete, Rachel shut down her computer with a small sense of accomplishment and locked the office on her way out. She hiked up to the bridge because she needed the exercise to banish some of her nerves—over seeing Nathan, over interacting with him in the presence of men who knew her well enough to spot her discomfort if she didn’t hide it well, of something going wrong with the stunt, of someone getting hurt…

Those had all faded by the time she reached the halfway mark. Dusk was closing in, and even from the side of the mountain, she could see and hear the activity above. She could sense the excitement and stress.

And by the time she reached the top, the filming choppers already had their blades rotating. She stood at the edge of the cluster of staff in the safety zone, which had been dramatically increased for the big blast, and crossed her arms. In the control booth, also moved to a distant plateau about twenty yards from where Rachel stood, Jax spoke to Nathan, while Nathan’s focus remained on the choppers. The setting sun dragged shadows over the day, making it impossible to see Nathan’s expression, but even from where she, Rachel could sense his intensity.

Troy spotted her and threaded through the crowd to stand at her side. “Can’t wait to finish this and get you back.”

“Don’t start in on the temp again,” she said. “I’ll fix anything she messed up.”

“You might be fixing awhile,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So, Ryker seems…subdued.”

“He’s just focused on pulling this off. Hell of a favor you asked of him, considering how deeply he was affected by that blast in Kandahar.”

His head twisted toward Rachel, lips parted in surprise. “He told you?”

“In pieces. It’s horribly painful for him.”

“Wow.” Troy’s mouth edged up in a smile. “That’s progress. And Ray’s accident?”

Rachel nodded. “Hit him hard, but he’s getting through it. He drove all the way into town and argued with his doctors until they let him take Ray out of the hospital to watch this shoot.” Her gut ached with the memories resulting from the trauma. “And he went to see his teammate who survived in Kandahar. He lives about an hour south of here. I saw a difference when Nathan got back. A real positive change.”

“Really.” Troy’s eyes narrowed on Rachel now, his suspicion clear. “Sounds like you didn’t hear anything I said to you before you left.”

“I heard every word. But I’m not you, and I don’t have the same relationship with him that you do. And, with all due respect to you as a guy who’s known him for decades, he’s not the kid you grew up with anymore. He’s an exceptional, complex man who impresses the hell out of me. Daily.”

Troy pursed his lips, glanced around the area. “And how are you going to deal when he leaves in…” He glanced at his watch. “Five days?”

She shrugged. “The same way we all deal with people who float through our lives.” She set a purposeful gaze on Troy. “It happens to all of us, and we all find our own way through. Don’t we?”

His dark eyes grew serious, and a sliver of that haunted look Nathan sometimes got floated through Troy’s eyes. Then it was gone. “I suppose we do.”

“Troy,” she said, linking her arm through his. “I really, really love you.” She tilted her gaze up to his. “But I am my own person, no matter how much I might remind you of someone else. Don’t ever interfere with my relationships again.” She paused, let the shock in his expression fade into belligerence, and added, “Am I making myself clear?”

Troy heaved a sigh. Nodded. Wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“You owe Nathan an apology too.”

He nodded again. “I’ll set things right with him.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist, lifted to her toes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Charlie came out of the booth, and the clapper, a young man Rachel had seen on several sets, ran to the center of the bridge with a slate. The assistant director running the scene called for quiet, and silence descended over the audience. The clapper’s voice rang clear when he called out the scene, and then when, he should have called out the take number, he paused and said, “The one and only take.”

A ripple of laughter traversed the onlookers, the slate clapped, and everyone fell silent again as the clapper sprinted off the bridge and into a safety zone.

Josh lifted a radio to his mouth where he stood on the bluff with the choppers and spoke to Jax in the control booth, then motioned with his hand and crouched as the choppers—five for this shoot—floated into the air and headed south.

Charlie came out of the booth, pushing Ray in a wheelchair. Ray held the megaphone in his good hand, his other covered in bandages and hooked into a sling across his chest. Rachel smiled as Ray lifted the megaphone, his gaze on the choppers, a smile on his fatigued face. And this was one of those moments when Rachel knew Nathan’s heart—no matter how malformed and battle scarred—was truly gold.

All day she’d been thinking about Nathan. About what he’d been through in his life, about how far he’d come in such a short amount of time, about how resilient and strong he stayed. And after this was over, she wanted to sit down with him in a quiet, private, no-stress environment and find out if that “what if” offer had been the desire for more hookups in the future, as he’d claimed in the heat of the moment. Or if it had been what she’d believed at the time he’d offered—the glimmer of desire to shoot for more between them, despite everything standing in the way.

The choppers banked hard at the ridgeline, angled back toward the bridge, and settled into formation. Rachel’s chest tightened, and she dragged in air. She tingled with anticipation, adrenaline, hope, and fear. She crossed her arms tight, and Troy pulled her closer.

“Don’t worry, Rach,” he murmured at her temple. “I’m telling you, Ryker is as brilliant as they come when it comes to explosives.”

He certainly had been brilliantly explosive in bed. It was a split-second thought that vanished as soon as Ray lifted the megaphone to his mouth.

“Five,” Ray yelled, steady and strong. “Four…”

Nathan stepped out of the booth, posture tight, expression stern.

“Three…”

Rachel’s stomach flipped, and she leaned closer to Troy, who tightened his arm around her shoulders.

“Two—”

Ray’s voice cut out in the first explosion. The blast sounded muffled through her ear protection, but the ground shook with the force of a monster earthquake, and a monumental fireball erupted into the dark sky, lighting everything around them in fiery oranges and reds.

The crowd around her gasped and murmured in alarm. Rachel covered her mouth as fear burned up her chest.

Too soon.
The blast had come too soon.

“Fuck.” Troy’s voice barely reached her ear, but the alarm there registered.

Rachel glanced toward the choppers first, her stress easing when she found them already sweeping in. The filming may not be perfect, but the editors could make it work. She darted a look toward Nathan, to check his reaction, but he was gone.

She searched the booth and the surrounding area but couldn’t locate him. A flash of panic sizzled along her skin, her eyes frantically searched the crowd, then the control booth again, the shadows surrounding the area where he’d been standing.

Another pair of explosions rocked the earth, just seconds apart. Rachel gasped and pulled away from Troy. Fireballs mushroomed into the sky, illuminating the bridge, the choppers, and the night in brilliant orange flashes. But Rachel didn’t watch the explosion; she searched for Nathan and found him in the light cast by the fire where he was making a stealthy, almost inhuman crawl along the ground toward Ray and Charlie, where they were now shielded behind the control booth.

“No. No, no,
no
.”

Rachel’s mind flew backward and filled with the memory of waking to Nathan yelling,
“Cover!”
and the eerie sight of him belly-crawling the same way along the floor of his room, then struggling with invisible men.

She pushed away from Troy, peeled through the staff, and broke into a run. Another round of explosions erupted, and fire flashed in Rachel’s eyes. She turned away, shutting her eyes. When her vision readjusted to the dark, she searched for Charlie and Ray and Nathan, and found only an empty wheelchair.

“Oh my God.” She broke into a run again, searching the shadows. She caught glimpses of a skirmish on the ground, but by the time she reached the struggle, others had closed in from all directions—Jax and Wes from the booth, Keaton and Duke from the crowd. Troy on her ass.

Overhead, the choppers’ blades drowned out all sound. Another explosion erupted, the ground shook, and Rachel tripped, almost taking out a still camera on her right. She caught herself on her hands and knees, scuttled to her feet, and kept running. In the shadows, Rachel saw Ryker push Ray’s wheelchair over and used it and his own body to shield Ray, while he continued to struggle with Charlie.

When she reached Nathan, she dropped to her knees and fisted his shirt. “Stop!” She yelled at what felt like full capacity but barely heard her own voice. She pulled herself closer with his shirt, put her face by his ear, and screamed. “Nathan, stop! You’re home. You’re safe. Everything’s—”

Jax and Wes each grabbed one of Nathan’s arms, and his head came up, smashing Rachel’s cheekbone. She flew backward, ass in the dirt, pain ripping through her face. Dizzy, she struggled to steady her vision and focused just as Nathan reared backward with a growl even Rachel heard among the din. His arm ripped from Jax’s grip, and Nathan swung around, catching Wes by the throat and slamming the two-hundred-pound Renegade to the dirt.

“
Cover
, goddammit,” Nathan bellowed. “Stay down!”

Keaton, Duke, and Troy clustered around the melee, searching for a place to jump into the brawl. Rachel lunged for Troy’s arm and held on.

“Flashback!” she yelled to be heard over the choppers, the crash of concrete and metal. “Don’t jump him, it’s a flashback!”

But it was too late. All five Renegades piled on Nathan, and the struggle continued even after the last explosion and the bridge lay in rubble in the river. Nathan fought like an absolute wild man, throwing Keaton and Troy off him at the same time, then taking on Jax, Duke, and Wes again.

“Stop!” Rachel screamed so hard she thought her chest would crack. “Stop fighting him!”

A Maglite beam cut through the night and flooded the fight with halogen. Charlie stumbled close, shining the light directly into Nathan’s face. “Raid’s over ,” he yelled, his deep, gruff, booming voice vibrating in Rachel’s ears. “Stop fightin’, you idiot.”

“Jesus Christ.” Rachel scrambled to her knees and crawled the short distance to reach the group. “Get
off
him.” She yanked at hands tearing Nathan’s shirt. Shoved at legs holding Nathan down. “Goddammit!” She pushed up on her knees and screamed, at her breaking point. “If you don’t all get off him right this second, I’m going stomp your
nuts
!”

Wes released his hold first and rolled off Nathan, who was squinting, his head turned away from the light. His chest heaved, blood marred his face, and Rachel’s heart broke with the trauma of it all.

She reached up and shoved Charlie’s hand away. “Get that out of his face,” she yelled, her voice hoarse. “The rest of you,
move
!”

As the Renegades slowly unwound themselves and climbed off Nathan, Rachel cuddled close. His eyes were hazed with the same deep confusion shining there as when he’d been on the verge of coming out of his nightmare.

She pushed his hair out of his eyes and supported his head with her arm. “Nathan, baby, it’s okay now.” She was shaking—her body, her voice, her very soul. She caressed his face and pressed her cheek to his head. “Just a bad memory. You’re safe. Everyone’s safe.”

He coughed and sat up. Rachel followed. Beside him, she kept one hand tight on his thigh, the other combing through his hair. But the motion made their surroundings come into focus. Several flashlights shone now, creating aglow in the dark. And everyone—as in every damned person involved in the stunt—stood around gawking, including Josh, who stood on the edge of the crowd with a fierce but conflicted expression.

That was the very moment Nathan came out of the traumatic flashback. “What…What’s happening?”

She tried to shield his view with her body, pushing up on her knees and taking his face in her hands. “Everything’s okay,” she reassured him, then turned and scanned the crowd. “Give us some air here.” When she refocused on Nathan, she saw him returning from the void, filled with shame and fury. “Look at me, Nathan.”