Ricochet: Locked & Loaded by Heather C. Leigh
Chapter 4
ON THE LAST day of her first full week of work, Quinn shut down her computer and locked up her files for the weekend. She wanted to talk to Mack before she left. He’d been more than generous to her after she showed up in Atlanta last month with nothing more than the clothes on her back, a backpack full of fancy lingerie, and a few dollars in her pocket.
Quinn swiped her badge and headed into the main gym. Usually, she hurried through the large open area, much too uneasy to be surrounded by large, violent men as they hit things. It brought back horrid memories. She tried her best to avoid the men that were training with punching bags, weight sets, or even sparring in one of the three separate fighting rings set up, including what she was told was a regulation sized octagon surrounded by chain link cage. It was bad enough they were huge and intimidating, but while they were fighting? No way could she stomach that sight without freaking out.
“Hey. Quinn, right?”
Quinn froze in place halfway between the lobby and the hallway, too scared to move or speak. Her eyes darted between the two exits as she tried to figure out which escape was closest.
“You okay?”
Quinn’s flicked her gaze to the tall, Latino man as he gracefully stalked towards her. Rationally, she knew she didn’t have anything to be afraid of. Mack assured her that the men in his gym were nothing but professional. But it had been over three years since Quinn had spoken to any male that wasn’t either Travis or Mack, or in passing like the blue-eyed man earlier this week.
“I’m fine.” Quinn took a step back when the fighter got too close. She struggled with the instinct to bolt from the room.
“Okay.” He held his tape wrapped hands up to show Quinn he meant no harm. “I’m Xander Vega. Mack told me we had a new employee. I just wanted to say hi.”
She let her eyes wander down Xander’s body, trying to feel out how much of a threat he was to her. Barefoot and only wearing a pair of black fight shorts, his dark bronze skin shone with the sweat that glistened on each of his well-defined muscles. Dangerous, her mind told her, overriding the fact that she knew, logically, that he wouldn’t hurt her. Then she remembered his specialty from the schedule she did for the gym… Russian Sambo. He was lethal and it scared the heck out of her.
“Sorry. I-I have to go.” Feeling ridiculous, Quinn ducked her head, turned, and practically ran down the hall to the break room. She shut the door behind her and sagged into it, leaning her forehead against the hard surface. “Shit,” she whispered to herself.
“You do that a lot.”
“Oh my God!” Quinn spun around to see the man with the striking aquamarine eyes, staring at her from his seat at the break room table. She choked, which made her cough, making it difficult to catch her breath.
Rick, his name is Rick.
The dark haired Adonis reclined in his chair, hands clasped behind his head as he smirked at Quinn. “You okay there?” She nodded, still unable to speak. “You scare too easily, doll.”
“What?” Quinn rasped as she dug her fingernails into her palms to stop her hands from trembling. She was still recovering from surprise he gave her, otherwise she would have scolded him for the doll comment... maybe. If she weren’t so frightened of the man.
“Every time I see you, you’re cursing under your breath.” Rick lifted an enormous bottle of water to his mouth and chugged down a third of it, never taking his sharp gaze off of Quinn’s. She noticed the large hand he had wrapped around the drink, knuckles scarred and bruised from fighting. That’s what all of these men did for a living, they fought or trained other men to fight. Those hands could hit… hard.
Danger! Her mind told her again. Quinn’s heart was racing frantically, feeling as if it may explode in her chest.
She shivered in response, but not from the fear she should be feeling from being so close to such a dangerous man. No, Quinn shivered because he was so damn hot she couldn’t stop imagining those large, rough hands running all over her skin. The way his lips surrounded the bottle and his throat working to swallow… she felt it in a way that made her uncomfortable. The fear mingling with desire had her flat-out confused.
Quinn unintentionally let her eyes roam over his broad chest, which was covered by only a thin, tight T-shirt that had the sleeves cut off and was damp with sweat. His sinewy arms were on full display, each muscle cut perfectly. The only mark on his beautiful tan skin was a black tattoo of a skull inside a circle with wings coming off of it and a knife or weapon behind. For a minute, she thought she recognized the tattoo, but she wasn’t close enough to know for sure.
I would love to lick that tattoo. Oh my god, where did that come from?
Feeling her neck and cheeks flame up from her deviant thoughts, Quinn quickly gathered herself, remembering that this cocky man was poking fun at her. Dangerous or not, that made her mad. She narrowed her eyes at his annoyingly gorgeous face.
“Well, you like to sneak up on people. It’s not nice. And, I’m not your doll.” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look confident when all she really wanted to do was run out of here and hide, or maybe run across the room and straddle his lap. She was equally torn between the two. So what did she do? Nothing. Her feet were rooted to the spot.
“Sneak up on people? You came in here, remember?” Rick pushed his chair back and got to his feet in one surprisingly nimble move for such a big man. Quinn swallowed when she got a good look at how tall he was, having to tilt her head back to see his face. The last time they spoke, she had been sitting while he leaned over her desk, his muscular body hidden behind the half wall that separated her from the lobby. Now that they were both standing, she could see that he was much, much taller than her petite five foot four inch frame. Her subconscious kept screaming at her.
Danger!
Quinn instinctively backed up, not stopping until she felt the kitchenette’s countertop dig into her lower back. Rick continued forward, only halting when there were just inches separating his large body from hers. He put his hands on the cabinets behind her, one on either side of her head caging her in. A small whimper fell from her lips and her breath stuttered. Quinn balled up her hands, running a fingertip over the ridge on her right palm. She shuddered from the thought of that scar, but when she remembered how she got it, she felt somewhat stronger. It was her badge of courage.
“And,” he said, close enough that she could smell him, a faint mixture of aftershave and sweat. It was potent enough to make her bite her lip so she wouldn’t try to lick his neck or bury her face in his chest and inhale that masculine scent. “Lots of people think I’m nice… doll.” Then he smirked.
Quinn’s mouth fell open at his arrogance.
Jerk!
Attraction or not, frightened or not, his slick overconfidence grated on her nerves. Braver than she’d felt for the first time in a long time, Quinn smiled at the egotistical man with the hypnotizing eyes. She refused to be another one of Rick’s groupies, and she was quite sure he had plenty of them falling for his easy charm and rugged perfection. “Yeah, well, those people that think you’re nice? I’m not one of them.”
Trembling, she ducked under Rick’s arm, unable to keep herself from noticing how hard his abs were as she nudged by. Pretending to be fearless, Quinn snatched her purse out of her locker, and left without saying another word.
RICK RUBBED a hand down his face, wondering how he lost the upper hand in his conversation with Quinn. None of his usual charms worked on the tough yet delicate girl. He thought about their quick exchange for a moment and then laughed. This girl pushed all of his buttons– definitely gorgeous, sweet but feisty, and best of all, not willing to let him get away with charming the pants right off of her.
His smile fell and a rush of desire tugged at his balls. Lust he understood, but it was other, much more unfamiliar emotions flooding through him that had him off balance, the ones that came from his heart, not his dick.
Mack warned him to stay away from Quinn and Rick was so u
Considering this was the first time he was interested in a woman, and not just what she’d look like naked and sucking his cock, he’d say it would be damn near impossible for him to do what Mack ordered.
QUINN SPENT THE next day in her apartment, doing laundry and pretty much just laying around. She hadn’t had a day to herself in so long that she forgot how much she enjoyed doing nothing. Travis always had a big list of things for her to do around the house. Said he didn’t want her sitting around getting fat.
Jerk.
Speaking of jerks, Quinn thought about her brief interaction with Rick the other day in the break room. Normally, a guy like that— big, strong, intimidating— would have had her running out the door as fast as she could go. But when he got close to Quinn, too close actually, all she wanted to do was run her hands up his smooth, hard chest and into his dark hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. No, that wasn’t true. She still had the urge to bolt, only now it was buried under a layer of intense desire.
A knock on her door startled her out of her daydream. Quinn gripped the couch cushion tightly, her heart hammering in her chest. Travis couldn’t have found her, right? She left behind her old identity and had been using her maiden name ever since, leaving no paper trail. When she told Mack that her I.D. had been stolen, he didn’t ask a single question. He gave her a job and let her move into the tiny apartment above the gym, no questions asked.
So who would be knocking on her door on a Saturday afternoon? Nausea started to press up from her stomach. Travis.
As if sensing her fear, her visitor spoke. “Quinn, it’s Rick.”
Quinn tensed up, all of her muscles locked into place. How did Rick know where she lived? She didn’t tell a single person, not that she knew anyone or had any friends here. Plus, Mack was supposedly the only person who knew that she was using this space.
Interestingly, in the gym, surrounded by other employees, she wasn’t afraid of Rick. In fact, he brought out the old Quinn. The fun, feisty girl she was before Travis beat the spark out of her. But here, alone, without the comfort of knowing other people were close by? The fear practically strangled her.
“Quinn? I know you’re home. I can hear your television.”
She inhaled, swallowing down a yelp. Reluctantly, Quinn crept over to the door, leaning against the heavy frame. “Rick? Why are you here?” Despite her best efforts to sound casual, her voice wavered, exposing her fear.
“I noticed you don’t have a car. I figured I could give you a ride to the grocery store.”
Quinn’s mind boggled. Grocery store? She shook her head, trying to reconcile the large, intimidating man with the piercing blue eyes and huge ego with this seemingly nice guy who offered rides to the store.
Are there any nice guys? Quinn couldn’t remember a time when she believed there were. She knew she must have at some point, but her complete distrust of anything male, with the exception of Mack, had been deeply ingrained upon her during her time with Travis.
“Ummmm,” she tried to think of logical excuse as to why she couldn’t open the door.
He’s dangerous!
She knew that wasn’t true, even though her subconscious screamed it loud and clear. Something in her gut told her to trust him.
“Quinn,” Rick’s voice sounded softer, like he was trying his best to make her feel comfortable, “I just want to make sure you have everything you need. If you don’t want to go with me, tell me what you want and I’ll bring it back here for you. I don’t want you to starve.”
The steel wall Quinn built around her heart faltered a little at Rick’s offer.
When she first arrived at Sanctum, Mack explained that he worked with a lot of fighters, that they would surround her on a daily basis. Men who would seem violent and frightening and easily provoked. He assured Quinn that there wasn’t a single one of his men that he wouldn’t trust with his life— or hers. Quinn never told Mack what or whom she was running from, but somehow he seemed to know that she needed to feel secure. It was Mack’s way of letting her know that even a tiny girl like her was safe around his team of huge men.
With a sigh, Quinn went with her gut and gave in, unlatching the door to reveal Rick in all of his tall, toned, blue-eyed glory. She had to stifle a whimper at the sight of him. Dressed in a well worn pair of jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a black Sanctum MMA T-shirt that stretched tight over his chest and biceps, with a pair of aviator sunglasses pushed up on his head, Rick was the picture of male perfection. Waves of desire crashed deep inside, a long dead sensation was awakening between her thighs. She wasn’t quite comfortable with the way her body reacted around Rick, yet she craved more.
Jesus, he’s hot.
Rick leaned with his shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed, and smirked. “So… you going to invite me in or just stand here and ogle me all day. ‘Cause I gotta say, the ogling works for me, doll.” He waggled his eyebrows comically, his smirk turning into a wide grin.
Self-conscious, and now a little annoyed at the slick act he was using on her, Quinn huffed, stepping back so Rick could enter the tiny apartment. “I was not ogling you.” She slammed the door closed behind him. “I was waiting for you to explain how you knew I lived here. And I told you before, I’m not your doll.”
She didn’t care how hot he was or how her body reacted to him. In Quinn’s mind, nothing was more of a turn off than an egotistical douchebag who thought he could snap his fingers and have any woman he wanted.
She watched as Rick carefully scanned her personal space. It seemed as if he were mentally mapping out her apartment, judging the way she lived or looking for someone hiding in the shadows.
By the time his eyes made their way back to Quinn, she was downright irritated at his high-handedness. Who the heck did he think he was barging into her apartment like he owned the place, oozing with charm and his infuriating physical perfection?
Rick’s brows crinkled in confusion at her sullen expression. “What?”
She scoffed at his bewilderment. He probably wasn’t used to women that didn’t fall to the ground to worship at his feet. “You still haven’t told me how you knew where I lived.” She began tapping her foot impatiently, all the while reiterating to herself, “I will not fall for his charms, I will not fall for his charms.”
Rick smiled at her, unintimidated by her hostility. He shrugged casually, “Cameras.”
Quinn’s stomach did a queasy somersault. “C-c-cameras?” Who was watching? Could Travis see her? She knew the thoughts were ridiculous, but the initial reflex to distrust everyone and begin to panic was born from years of abuse.
Rick stepped towards her, his expression meant to be comforting. Instead of it helping, Quinn jumped back as if she’d been shocked with a cattle prod, her mind instinctually screaming at her to run. In her haste, her feet tangled on the edge of the area rug in the small living room and she fell down on her back end.
“Let me help you up.” Rick extended an arm, taking two steps towards her.
Her subconscious was now shrieking loudly, urging her to move.
Danger! Run! Hurry!
Quinn scurried back, scrambling crab-like on her hands and feet to put more space between her and Rick. The intense fear gripping her felt like a noose around her neck, tightening with every step Rick took.
“Don’t come any closer!” She climbed to her feet, holding a hand out to stop Rick’s movement. Her pulse was flying through her veins, pumping adrenaline to every cell in her body. Quinn felt as if she was on the edge of a razor-thin precipice, one nudge in the wrong direction and she’d go tumbling head first into a full-blown panic attack. He neede
HOLY SHIT.
“Okay, okay, I won’t move.” Rick tucked his hands into his pockets and took a step back, showing the frightened girl that he wasn’t going to come any closer. He had no idea how their conversation turned from playful and sexually charged to Quinn freaking out, but it was alarming.
Rick studied Quinn as she cowered against the half-wall that divided the kitchen from the small living area. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, her eyes wide and darting around the room wildly, the hand she held up to keep Rick away was trembling… this was a girl who had seen some terrible things.
If there was one thing Rick knew, it was recognizing someone who lived through something truly horrifying— seen human beings at their worst— only to come out wrecked on the other side. He knew because he was one of those people. The things he saw and did in the Marines would give anyone nightmares. Hell, they gave him nightmares.
His hackles rose at the thought of anyone laying a hand on this tiny, vulnerable woman. Rick clenched his jaw to tamp down the urge to demand the name of whoever had hurt her.
“Listen,” Rick said calmly, breathing steadily to control his anger, “I’m not here to hurt you or bother you. Yes, Mack has cameras around the perimeter of the building.” Rick didn’t feel the need to let her know why they needed the high-powered cameras that were equipped with the latest night vision and facial recognition software to protect a “gym”. “They’re for security. Tucker mentioned seeing you go up the back staircase, that’s all.”
“Oh.”
Rick studied Quinn as her shoulders released some of their tension. Her outstretched hand dropped to her side and she started to look less like a person about to run for their life and more like a regular young woman. No, not regular— gorgeous and special and intriguing was more like it. But also damaged. Rick could see it in her eyes and her obvious actions. The pain she held inside was significant. Something that horrific could never be completely hidden, no matter what mask you put on in public. Some masks were just more convincing than others. He thought of his own horrors then quickly shoved the images away.