Ricochet (13 page)

“What about major utilities?” he asked.

“One gas line,” she said without hesitation, without looking at any notes, but her voice was clipped with irritation. “It runs half a mile west. The gas company doesn’t anticipate a problem but would like to be notified of the stunt’s progress.”

He pushed to his feet and paced the length of the trailer, then back. “I can’t buy—”

“Renegades is licensed to purchase any explosives you’ll need,” Jax said.

Ryker stopped, crossed his arms.

“Troy said you’re a certified blaster,” Rachel said. “True?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have hard copies of those certificates?” she asked, almost monotone.

“Digital copies.”

“And you’re licensed to use explosives in a civilian capacity, not just military?”

He narrowed his eyes again. Damn, she was smart. One more turn-on. “Yes.”

“In what areas?”

He dropped his hands to his hips. “How do you know all this?”

“When Troy told me…
Ryker
…was going to talk with us, I did some research on how military experience would transfer into the private sector. Because, you know, that’s part of
my job
. I didn’t know at that time we’d be asking you to
blow
the bridge”—she cut a look at Troy, then Jax, then focused on Ryker again—“only possibly consult on the strategy. Of course, when important details are held back, it’s difficult to make informed decisions or accurate plans.”

Nice cut. Between Rachel and Troy, Ryker was going to walk out of here an inch tall. “I can handle, detonate, and store. I can’t transport or purchase.”

“That shouldn’t be an issue,” she said, as if she were disappointed.

Ryker looked at Jax. “Dude, you’re talking about a big operation here.”

“That’s what we do best,” Troy said. “The bigger the better.”

Ryker glanced down at the floor, shaking his head. “Look.” He lifted his gaze to Jax. “I’m really good at taking shitty buildings down to rubble, but I don’t know anything about flashy. I sure as shit don’t know anything about movies.”

“We work together on jobs like this.” He gestured to the room, including everyone present and eluding to more who weren’t. “We’ll create a plan as a team. You’ll be surprised how much you already know from watching movies.”

Create a plan as a team.

More discomfort eased. A buzz had been building inside him since they’d started talking about explosions. Yes, both the Rockstar and Rachel were contributing, but the majority of the tingle along his limbs and burning across his ribs came from a familiar excitement. One that only came with blowing shit up. A very special, unique, and potent adrenaline. One that gave him a twisted sense of purpose.

He shot a glare toward Troy. He’d known this project would hook Ryker. He also knew Ryker shouldn’t be doing it. “How big is it?”

“A little under a thousand feet long with six sections.” The answer came from Rachel, and Ryker turned toward her again. She’d taken off her glasses, but her eyes were flat and dark, not glowing and warm the way they’d been last night.

“How tall?”

“From the ground,” she asked, “or the bridge itself?”

He sighed and cocked his hip with a shake of his head. Secretary, bookkeeper, glorified
gofer
his ass. “Both.” “The bridge is between three hundred and six hundred feet above ground,” Rachel said, “depending on the slope of the hills, and thirty two feet from deck to canopy.”

Ryker turned to Jax. “One guy can’t handle that. It would take months. I’ve only got a little over three weeks before I report back to duty.”

“You’ll have a crew,” Troy said. “Rachel’s already got a dozen welders and construction workers lined up, plus support staff. We need a lead blaster. Someone to plan and execute the deal. Bring that bridge down in a big way. Dude, you
know
you’re our guy. It’ll take you two weeks to rig it and a couple days to get ready to blow it. You’ll be done in plenty of time to head back to the sand pit.”

Ryker crossed his arms and studied the ceiling. This was the first big thing Troy had ever asked of him. And the job was challenging. He’d never blown a bridge. Never a structure this large. The fringe benefit would be staying close to Rachel for most of his remaining leave. And having two exciting things to focus on for the next few weeks, other than trying to forget the past?

That damn near sounded like heaven right about now.

But there was that teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy, slightly problematic matter of playing with explosives while he still held active military status…

“The job pays fifty grand.” Jax’s voice pierced Ryker’s bubble of doubt.

He scoffed. “You’re yanking my chain.”

Jax shook his head. “It’s an important job, and I’m paying accordingly. If you pull off the bridge scene, we’ll come in on budget. Meals, a vehicle, expenses are covered. You’ll have whatever support staff you need. Rachel will arrange everything.”

Ryker checked the others’ expressions. Wes and Troy stared back, expectant. Rachel, resigned and still pissed. When he looked at Jax again, he remained dead serious.

Money never hurt his bank account, but Ryker didn’t need it. The EOD hazard pay for facing getting blown to itty-bitty bits every day in the army paid well, and with absolutely no expenses, money was never a concern—something he’d never imagined possible as a kid. But Jax had gone and added another challenge, and challenge was something Ryker could rarely get enough of and could almost never turn down.

“What if something goes wrong with the job,” he asked, “and you don’t come in under budget?”

“We hope that won’t happen, but if it does, the pay is twenty-five grand. Everything else still applies.”

Ryker exhaled. Chewed the inside of his cheek. While he wouldn’t be messing with the direct wording of his CO’s orders, he would be seriously stretching the spirit of his meaning,
“Do whatever the hell you need to do to get your head on straight. And don’t come back until it is.”

“Ry,” Troy said, voice low. “We
need
you.”

His CO was eight thousand miles away. Troy was right here.

He extended his hand toward Wes. “I’ll take the plans, look them over. No promises.”

Wes grinned and handed Ryker the role of blueprints, then bumped fists with Troy behind Ryker’s back.

“I haven’t agreed,” he muttered, glancing at the title bar on the plans.

“You will.” Troy slapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s hit the mountain, dude. Celebrate.”

“Hold on.” Rachel stood and pressed her hands flat on the desk. “He’s not going anywhere. I have a ton of stuff I need from him now.”

Man, he liked the sound of that. He’d like it better if she’d meant it the way he wanted her to mean it.

Troy rounded Rachel’s desk, nudged her chair aside, and drew open the bottom drawer.

She sat back and lifted her hands. “Hello. I live here. You can’t just push me out of the way because I’m smaller than you.”

“I’d never push you out of the way, Rach.”

“What the hell do you call what you just did?”

“Nudging.”

Ryker watched the exchange with amusement. They definitely acted like siblings. Troy was pulling papers from files, shoving them back in, and annoyance mounted in Rachel’s expression.

“Troy, stop it. What are you looking for?” She slapped at his hands. “Don’t mess up my files.” When he didn’t stop, she grabbed his wrists and shoved him away. “
Stop. It.
”

“Dude,” Wes warned, “you’re lighting matches near leaking propane.”

“God,” she breathed, frazzled, angry. “Troy Jacobs, I love you, but you are seriously pissing me off. Get the
hell
out of my office.”

“It’s not your office. It’s
our
trailer. You can’t just kick me out because I’m bigger than you.”

“Troy,” Wes said, “if I were you, I’d step out of scorching range. Our little Rachel is breathing fire today.”

Troy pressed his lips together, planted his hands on his hips, and eased back and out of Rachel’s space.

“There,” she said on a breath, sitting straighter, hands still hovering over her files in protection. “Now, what the hell are you looking for?”

“A release form.”

“Fine.” She pulled two papers from the files. “Nathan, get over here.”

He jumped to his feet and stepped up to the desk. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her eyes cut to his, expression stern, but there was heat there too, and he knew she was remembering her
“Then fuck me already”
order the night before.

His cock swelled, and he shifted on his feet to relieve the pressure.

“Now,
that
is refreshing.” She didn’t sound as approving as she did relieved, but it was still the first positive thing she’d said to him since she’d set eyes on him again. “Could you rub off on
him
while you’re here?”

Troy made a disgusted sound in his throat. “You have no idea—”

“Don’t.” Ryker shot Troy a glare that promised pain. “Even.”

Rachel clicked a pen on the desk and pointed to the paper on the right. “Release form—if you kill yourself, it’s your own stupid fault.” Then to the one on the left. “Emergency contact—the person we call to tell them how stupid you were.”

Ryker grinned as he scribbled his signature and the basic information into the blanks. He liked her more by the minute. Wanted her more by the second.

Wes slapped a hand to Ryker’s shoulder. “Let’s clear out of here and let Rachel get her perfect little world back in order. That always improves her mood.”

Everyone turned for the door. Troy tossed Ryker a harness.

“Nathan,” Rachel said, “can I have a minute?”

He faced her again, barely holding back the
you can have a hell of a lot more than that
on his tongue.

“Rachel,” Troy said, his voice edgy, “stop calling him Nath—”

“Troy,” she snapped back, “stop bossing me around and get
out
of
my office
.”

He muttered something under his breath as he followed the others down the stairs and slammed the door on his way out. Rachel flinched and closed her eyes on a growl. “Damn two-year-old.”

“I’ll have a talk with him.” Ryker swung the harness over his shoulder. “Listen, I really don’t want to make trouble for you. And I don’t plan to. I’m sure we can—”

“Nathan,” she cut in, pressing all ten fingertips to her desktop and leaning in, her expression…tortured was the only way Ryker could describe it. “You can’t accept this job.”

His immediate reaction was to lash out, a rebellious response rooted in his childhood and one that had gotten him in his share of trouble growing up. The army had taught him how to control that impulse for the most part, but this was one of those borderline moments, and the muscles along his shoulders and spine tightened while heat gathered at his core. “Excuse me?”

She straightened, her gaze on her blotter while she flexed and clenched her fingers into fists. When she lifted her gaze to his again, her mouth was tight, her eyes dark with determination, which only intensified Ryker’s need to push back.

“This is the most important stunt in Renegades’ history,” she said. “Pulling this off is already going to take a miracle. We can’t afford any additional obstacles. Now there’s Josh, and having you on board…” She shook her head, her mind’s chaotic spin showing in her eyes. “It won’t work. It’ll all fall apart. You...you…can’t take the job.”

She’d managed to slam his ego from every angle, and anger roiled inside him to soothe the hurt. To take his ego out of the equation, he pulled on his training, tempering his words.

“Troy is the closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother,” he said, trying like hell to force his voice into a steady, unquestionable tone instead of the erratic mess that wanted to come. “And he loves this company as much—if not more—than you do. He’s asked me to take on this job.
Your boss
has asked me to take on this job.”

“That’s because they’re nervous about getting a contractor in time. But they aren’t doing the groundwork. I am. And I—”

“
Do
you have a contractor?” he asked. “Right now, today, to take on this job?”

“No, but—”

“
But
, they need someone right now. Today.” With the harness over one shoulder and the plans in the other hand, Ryker stalked toward the door. “Do what you need to do to get your head straight about this, Rachel, because if Troy needs me, I’m there.” He turned and met her gaze before walking out. “Regardless of the obstacles.”

“So this is how the other half lives,” Ryker murmured to himself as he stood from the Avalanche and took in Jax Chamberlin’s Malibu beachside mansion.

If Troy had told him to wear swim trunks as a prank and this turned out to be some swanky dinner, Ryker was going to beat him into kidney failure.

He drew the bridge plans off the passenger’s seat, tossed his duffle with a change of clothes and a six-pack of beer over his shoulder, and started up the stone path to the front door, drawing the cool sea breeze into his lungs. The house was mammoth, the exterior stucco rich with detail around every corner. The gardens were lush and manicured. And Ryker had never felt more out of his element.