Ricochet (Out for Justice Book 1)

by Reese Knightley

  Mac blinked, then frowned. Ben sat docile at Noah’s feet, bleeding, but not tied or gagged. Ben stayed as if some unseen force held him there.

  “What the hell is going on?” Mac growled, and then couldn’t speak when those amazing whiskey-colored eyes met his. Mac’s breath stuttered, and he had to draw in several deep breaths and hold them to get his air back.

  “Hello, Mac,” Noah greeted, and the tenor of the man’s voice rumbled deep and raced over Mac like a fucking freight train. He’d lusted after the younger man, but this man, this older Noah sitting here now, created a sexual reaction that made Mac’s knees weak.

  “You really ought to pay attention to who you give access to your house.”

  “Mac! Help me,” Ben cried. “This guy’s a lunatic!”

  “What’s going on?” Mac asked again, but couldn’t seem to get his feet working.

  “Why don’t you tell Mac what’s going on,” Noah advised Ben while casually waving the gun in Ben’s direction.

  “I …” Ben started, stopped, and then swallowed. “Nothing! Mac, I swear. I was waiting for you when this … this asshole came in and cut me!”

  “You cut him?” Mac asked in disbelief.

  Noah wrinkled his nose and heat rushed to Mac’s crotch. “Just a smidgen.” Noah held up his fingers half an inch apart.

  When his legs finally worked, Mac advanced into the room. Noah stood and tucked the gun away. Somewhere in the back of Mac’s mind, it occurred to him that Ben was scrambling up and running for the door, but he couldn’t seem to muster enough care to do anything about it.

  “Not going after him?” Noah inquired, one gorgeous, blond brow arched.

  “I know where he lives,” Mac said absently, his eyes zeroing in on Noah’s mouth, full and parted as if affected by his nearness. Their size difference wasn’t as prominent anymore. Where before he had towered over Noah, now he only had an inch on the man.

  “What if he disappears?” Noah crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Then I’ll track him down.”

  “Like you did me?” Noah smirked.

  “Oh, I have a feeling that he’ll be easier to catch than you are, Noah Bradford, or should I say Ghost?”

  Noah shrugged and smoothly slid one hand into the front pocket of his pants. The man stood confident and calm, nothing like the scared WITSEC kid he once was.

  “Your boyfriend, Ben, knows the leak,” Noah said with a touch of sarcasm.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” Mac said automatically, making damned sure Noah knew that. “How does Ben know the leak?” Mac’s hands itched, literally fucking itched, to touch Noah. He couldn’t drag his gaze from the man’s lips for more than a few seconds. The room filled with a tension so tight, Mac felt like his whole body might snap if he wasn’t careful. On the other hand, fuck being careful.

  The fact that Noah hadn’t answered him finally drew Mac’s gaze from the man’s lips upward to meet darkening golden eyes. Was that hunger he saw in Noah’s eyes, or just his own hopeful imagination?

  “What…” Mac murmured, completely forgetting the question he’d asked Noah.

  “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to look at me like that?” Noah growled, advancing.

  “How long?” Mac goaded. He wanted Noah to lose control. The man in front of him was way too controlled.

  “Too fucking long.” Noah stopped a few inches from Mac, and it gave Mac some much needed satisfaction that even though it was only a small tilt, Noah had to look up. The man was too confident by far, and Mac needed every advantage.

  “Oh?” Mac encouraged.

  “And too fucking late,” Noah continued, eyes glittering in the dimly lit room. “I don’t do relationships.”

  “I thought that was my line,” Mac murmured, his lips twitching.

  Amusement flitted through Noah’s gaze. “Was it? Maybe that’s where I stole it from.”

  Noah’s head tilted, and Mac wanted nothing more than to run his mouth over Noah’s unshaven jaw. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Noah smelled like the ocean and rain mixed together with a heady dose of man.

  “You’ve been busy,” Mac pointed out.

  “Have I?” Noah shrugged and sauntered toward the kitchen.

  “Mmhmm.” Mac’s gaze zeroed in on Noah’s ass. Trailing behind, he grasped for something to keep the man here. “I got your…gift.”

  Noah chuckled and pulled open the fridge. “I had to get your attention somehow.” Noah turned with a cold bottle of water in his hand.

  Mac stepped closer, and Noah stilled. Good. Mac wanted to keep Noah off kilter, just like he was. Reaching past the man, Mac lightly brushed against Noah as he reached in and snagged himself a water. The man shivered and need warmed Mac’s belly.

  Twisting off the top of the water, Mac could almost feel Noah’s gaze caressing his throat when he took a few long swallows.

  “Oh, you have my full attention,” Mac said huskily, wiping a hand at his mouth. Their eyes locked, gazes held, and then Noah ducked beneath Mac’s arm and walked out of the kitchen.

  Shit! Mac shut the fridge and hurried after Noah. He stilled with relief when he found the man standing in the living room looking at the picture of them.

  “I kept it all these years,” Mac admitted, coming to stand next to him.

  Noah stayed quiet and then turned to look at the picture of Mac and Ben. Mac suddenly wished he’d taken that photo down a long time ago.

  Noah flicked the picture of Mac and Ben with his finger. “You should take it down, he doesn’t deserve your friendship,” Noah said abruptly.

  Mac reached for the photo, stepping into Noah’s space again, and flipped the frame of him and Ben face down on the shelf. “Why do you think he knows the leak?” Mac again asked his earlier question.

  Noah sighed. “Because he had this,” the man said flatly and pulled out a cell phone. The phone held a picture of Camren Anderson with Ben.

  “That’s Camren Anderson.” Mac frowned, wondering how Noah had a picture of Ben with Conrad’s partner.

  Noah simply said, “The leak.”

  “Fuck.” Mac hadn’t seen that one coming. The normally shy technician didn’t strike him as someone with an axe to grind. “What makes you think that?”

  Noah scrolled through the phone and then turned it toward Mac. Mac looked at the next picture. It was one of US Marshal Anderson talking to none other than Ricky Stevenson. Mac glanced from the photo up at Noah. “Was that the day you killed Stevenson?”

  “No,” Noah said. He didn’t look surprised at Mac’s comment. “But that’s the day that this Anderson person told Stevenson where the safe house was.” Shoving the phone into his pocket, Noah pushed his fingers through his hair, pulling it from the bun, causing strands to spill over his shoulders. Noah turned away, but Mac grabbed his bicep and turned him back.

  Something small shimmered near Noah’s wrist, and Mac drew the man’s arm upward.

  “You wear it,” he said stupidly, staring at the thin, black leather band with the tiny, silver angel’s wing.

  “Yeah,” Noah said abruptly.

  “Talk to me,” he breathed. His body felt on fire for this man, but the wariness in Noah’s eyes made his heart ache. Mac wanted to fix it.

  “I wasn’t going to kill Stevenson. At first, I was going to bring him in,” Noah said. The man’s voice sounded calm and remote as he remembered that night. Mac saw no regret in Noah’s face.

  “I believe you,” Mac said quietly, and he did, he believed Noah. The man before him was too controlled, acted with discipline out in the field, and if the crime scenes were any indication, Noah didn’t kill someone without a damned good reason.

  “Do you?” Noah narrowed his eyes and pulled his wrist from his hold. “Do you know he had the nerve to ask me to come back and join the family?” The man clenched his fist, fire burning in his eyes.

  “When I found Clair…” Noah’s eyes suddenly went blank, as if a shutter had closed
down, blocking all emotion. The coldness in the man’s eyes sent a shiver through Mac and something tightened in his chest.

  “I actually enjoyed killing him,” Noah finished in a flat, dead voice.

  “I don’t think you did, but it was necessary,” Mac murmured.

  “You don’t know shit about me.” Noah gave him a “give me a fucking break” look. The man suddenly moved out of the room so quickly, it took a moment for Mac’s mind to catch up, and he hurried after him.

  The quick-fire temper was not new, and Mac had to admit he was tempted to goad Noah just so he could bring back the life in the man’s eyes.

  “I want to,” Mac said from behind Noah. “Know you.”

  The agent stopped at the open back door as if debating about taking the step that would carry him out of the house and away from Mac, perhaps forever.

  Noah

  “Why now?” Noah asked, facing away. He deliberately didn’t look at Mac. Fuck, he’d missed the man. Regret for what might have been gripped him, but he ignored it. His earlier resolve was wavering. Could he really walk away from Mac if the man wanted to give them a chance?

  Mac hesitantly closed a hand around his arm and turned him around. The tenderness in the touch was all fucking Mac, caring and tender. The man had never given him anything but chaste platonic and tentative touches. It seemed that Mac was content to treat him as always, as just another friend. It fucking pissed him the hell off.

  “Fuck you, Mac!” he gritted out. “Fuck you.”

  “Noah,” Mac whispered hoarsely and the hand on his arm closed tightly, with intent to restrain. Noah almost laughed at the absurdity that Mac thought he could restrain him.

  “You don’t get to hold me.” Noah spun, breaking Mac’s hold, and shoved the man. “Not yet, not until you explain a few things.”

  He narrowed his eyes, refusing to feel any sympathy when Mac’s shoulders slumped.

  “I deserve your anger, but in my defense, you were just a kid.” Mac sighed heavily and stepped back, giving him space.

  Irritated, Noah drew in a deep breath. “I was twenty by the time you justified walking away. So tell me another story,” he pointed out.

  Mac nodded and rubbed a hand along his own nape as if torn.

  “And you were under my protection.”

  “Well now, that makes me seem like an asshole,” Noah said sarcastically.

  “Noah…” Mac began.

  Tired of the games, he moved into Mac’s space. “Did you care about me at all?” he charged.

  “I did, do,” Mac said.

  “So tell me all the excuses you used all those years ago are now gone.”

  “I’m still a hell of a lot older than you,” the sexy fucker said gruffly.

  Anger twisted Noah’s lips. How the hell was he going to get through to Mac that he didn’t care about the age difference? Needing air and a chance to formulate a plan, Noah stepped out the back door and onto the porch.

  Strong arms closed around him from behind, and he whirled. Gripping one of Mac’s arms, he twisted and pushed it up behind the man’s back. Using the momentum, he shoved Mac face first against the wall. Noah crowded in against Mac’s back. The man didn’t struggle, but rather, he held very still.

  Fucking hell, it was sweet torture being this close. He reached up and fisted one hand in Mac’s dark hair and moved his lips near Mac’s temple. The man’s breathing hitched.

  “What makes you think I give a fuck that a few years of age separate us?” he rasped against Mac’s ear and licked at the lobe.

  Mac groaned and tested his hold, and Noah tightened his grip. Mac’s muscles bunched and shifted. The man pushed his bulk against him, testing his strength. He wasn’t slender like he had been at nineteen. He was rock fucking solid, a force to be reckoned with in combat. He knew moves that could cripple a man. The test soon became a game of power. He had leverage from his position, but Mac had the muscle mass. The bigger man heaved and turned, forcing Noah to release the arm to avoid permanent damage. Mac latched arms around his waist and ran him into the opposite wall.

  Blue eyes glittered into his face before Mac dropped his mouth to his neck and his lips roamed along his skin. The fucker didn’t play fair.

  “I never said I didn’t want you,” Mac growled against his neck. “Only that I’m still older.”

  “I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me. It never has,” Noah rasped between his teeth. His dick wouldn’t behave. Mac forced his head back and bit at his jaw, and his traitorous cock filled. The fucking man annihilated him.

  “Good,” Mac said, and the distance between them was completely gone. Noah took advantage. His hands lifted to cup Mac’s unshaven face. Their gazes collided and held before their mouths touched. Noah clamped his hands around the back of Mac’s neck and crushed their mouths together.

  Mac smelled amazing, powerful, and something else that was just Mac. Noah wanted to strip the man naked and stretch out over him. He parted his lips, driving the kiss into a tangle of tongues. Mac panted against his mouth, and Noah pushed a leg between Mac’s, finding him hard.

  Mac wanted him, Noah could feel it and taste it in the way the man kissed him back. He bit at Mac’s lips, and the man groaned, low and deep.

  Mac pressed into his kiss, biting back at his bottom lip and grinding on his thigh. His cock surged as their groins rubbed against each other. He closed his arms around Mac and kissed him until they needed air.

  Resting his forehead on Mac’s, Noah drew in several deep breaths. Mac’s hands had locked onto his ass. The man clenched each large palm on one butt cheek and held tight. Noah couldn’t stop the low chuckle from escaping.

  Mac drew back to meet his gaze. The man looked smug, assured that all he had to do was kiss and their world would be right. It was going to take a lot more than that to make up for the years. Mac lifted his hands and tenderly cupped his jaw.

  So Mac really thought that was all there was to it? Kiss and rub, and all was hashed out? For some reason that pissed him off. A bit unreasonable? Sure, but he didn’t give a fuck. He needed to know that Mac was in this for good. That the guy wouldn’t up and walk the fuck away like last time.

  “You have some explaining to do.” Noah shoved and slipped out of Mac’s unsuspecting arms. He sprinted to the back door and jumped off the porch, landing in the sand.

  “Wait!” Mac called after his retreating form.

  Pulling on his black hooded mask, Noah jogged down the beach. He heard Mac running after him, but didn’t stop. Spinning, Noah dodged just as Mac’s hand came out to catch him.

  “Damn it, Noah,” the marshal growled, sounding frustrated.

  “What? Can’t catch me?” Noah goaded.

  Mac lunged, and Noah sidestepped and turned, heading away. Mac came up behind him and latched onto him with both arms wrapped around his middle.

  Noah charged forward, feet digging into the sand, dragging them about five steps before he felt Mac chuckling against his back.

  He paused, smiling beneath the hood.

  “So it was you,” the marshal murmured against his neck, the man obviously realizing he was the man in the dark at Clair’s house.

  “Kicked your ass, didn’t I?” Noah smirked.

  He dropped to the sand, and surprised, Mac loosened his hold. Noah swiped out his leg and took the marshal down on his back. He had Mac pinned shortly after and gazed down at the sexy man. The big man’s hand came up and this time, Noah allowed Mac to remove the hooded mask.

  His hair spilled forward as he gazed down into Mac’s eyes.

  “Where do you think you’re running off to?” One of Mac’s dark eyebrows rose.

  “Why? You want me to stick around?” Noah arched a brow back. Mac’s fingers sank into his hair, his other arm coming around him to hold on tightly.

  “Yes.” Mac gazed up at him. “Come back to the house and have some coffee. Please, let’s talk.”

  Noah wanted that more than he could say. Relenting, because he re
ally didn’t want to leave, he stood and reached out a hand. When Mac took it, he pulled him up.

  Back on the back porch of the house, Noah stopped. “I parked my jeep down the beach.”

  “You should bring it–”

  Pop, pop, pop! Wood chips flew near Noah’s head.

  Noah

  Noah heard Mac grunt before the man stumbled back, pulling him along and back into the house.

  Gun in hand, Noah crouched and eased back to the open doorway. With a sudden and total fixation, he tracked movement along the driveway. This was his fault. He should have put a bullet in Ben’s head. Quickly, he aimed at a lurking shadow and fired. The one shot was followed by the distant sound of a thud as a body hit the dirt.

  After a slight pause, gunfire started up again. This time longer and with more intensity, ripping into the side of the house and tearing through the back door, shattering windows. Noah slipped back and shoved the door closed with his foot. Turning, he stumbled over Mac, who was sitting on his ass in the hallway.

  Noah raked his gaze over Mac. The man cradled one arm across his stomach, and Noah swallowed down a sudden searing fear.

  Crouching, Noah tried to assess the damage. “Where?”

  “Left arm,” Mac grounded out. “Just a crease.”

  Shoving back his growing rage, Noah clinically assessed where the bullet had entered. Left bicep. The bullet had cut a deep groove in Mac’s arm. The wound was bleeding profusely. He moved around to Mac’s right side and helped the man stand.

  “You with me?” Noah whispered, deliberately keeping his voice harsh when Mac swayed. They needed to get the hell out of there.

  With his phone open as they moved through the hallway, Noah dialed 911. “Shots fired, officer shot,” Noah said into the phone and gave the address to the beach house. “I repeat, US Marshal shot.”

  Mac stumbled, and Noah tightened his hold. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he moved them to the living room and propped Mac near the front door.

  A noise at the back of the house signaled entry and sent Noah quickly cracking open the front door. He went out low, ducking into a front roll and out onto the darkened porch. He took out two more men, the silencer making a quiet snick, snick.