But there wasn’t time for that. Instead she strolled across the street and entered the diner. They were between breakfast and lunch, so only a few people were seated. That was fine—fewer people she had to keep an eye on. As it was, those few turned and gave her pitiful looks.
“Hi, hon. Alone today?” the young waitress asked.
“Yeah.”
“What can I get ya?”
“What’s still warm?”
“I’ll throw something together for ya.” The waitress poured a cup of coffee and scurried away.
A small TV sat in the corner, mounted on the wall. Ronnie briefly looked at it and did a double take. Sure enough, there she was, looking sad and pathetic on the screen.
“How embarrassing,” she whispered.
The waitress returned with a plate piled with fried potatoes, ham and eggs. Her mouth watered as the aroma filled her nose.
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing. Oh and by the way, it’s on the house.”
“What? Why?”
“We look after our own around here. I’m real sorry about the fire. It sucks, but something tells me you’ll come out on top.”
“Thanks.”
The sweet girl gave her a bright smile and then rushed off. She felt a bit guilty about the charity. No one had ever given her anything out of simple kindness before. It seemed humanity was holding its own against the monsters who were trying to lead it.
She made it a quarter of the way through the plate when a breaking news report came on the TV.
“Presidential candidate Grear and Senators Stone and Carney were found dead in a run-down hotel outside Baltimore this morning.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ronnie’s breakfast turned to lead in her stomach.
“Cause of death has yet to be determined. Capital Hill is reeling with questions as to why these three men were in such a place and why Anthony Grear didn’t have his secret service bodyguards with him.”
They flashed a picture of Grear on the screen. Sweat trickled down her forehead. Just seeing the man made her sick to her stomach.
“Okay, we’re getting word that a gas leak was discovered at the building. It’s looking as though the three men were overcome by the gas. That still doesn’t answer the questions as to why they were there…”
Ronnie tuned it out. Her appetite was gone and she needed to get out of there now.
“Everything okay?” her waitress asked.
“Great. Do you think you could put this in something for me? I think I’ll take it back to the hotel for later.” Actually, Ricochet would need it more than she would.
“Sure, honey, no problem.”
Ronnie dug into her pocket and left a hefty tip for the girl. When she returned, she carried a bag full of food.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Ronnie said looking into the bag.
“It makes me feel better.”
She couldn’t help it. She had to give the girl a hug. When she released her she ran out the door and didn’t stop until she was inside her room.
“Veronica?”
Startled by his voice, she jumped and looked at the bed. He wasn’t there, where was he? Was she hearing things?
“Babe, what’s wrong?”
She jumped again and turned toward the bathroom. He stood there in a clean pair of black cargo pants that weren’t buttoned. His chest was bare, and a towel slung over his shoulder.
“I brought you something to eat,” she said looking away.
“Okay. Thanks. Now, what’s wrong?”
What wasn’t wrong? Suddenly she felt disconnected, like her life was spiraling out of control. She’d lost her home, all her belongings, and she’d used her own two hands to kill a man. It was different from using a weapon. A bullet was impersonal. Snapping a neck and feeling the bones and muscles give under your hands was as personal as it gets.
“Nothing.”
“It’ll all be over soon,” he said walking up behind her.
“Will it?”
“Yes.”
Why wasn’t that enough anymore? Yesterday she just wanted Grear dead so she could live her life. Today he was dead and she didn’t feel any better. Worse, she didn’t know what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She didn’t want to think about it, not now.
“How are you feeling? Your head any better?”
“It’s not pounding as badly as it was last night. At least I’m only seeing one of everythin’ now.”
“I bet if you get some food in your stomach it’ll help.” When he stepped forward to hold her she backed away. She wanted to feel him against her, yet she didn’t. Hell, she didn’t know what she wanted. “I’m gonna go outside and sit for a while. You eat.”
Ricochet slung his towel across the room. He knew this would happen, classic for a person who’d gone through so much trauma and then taken someone’s life. No matter how much she hated him, she still felt guilty about doing it. If he didn’t get a handle on her quickly she’d back out of his life for good and by God he wasn’t standing for that.
“Rico what’s she doing?” Kong asked over the radio.
“She just needs some space.”
“Everything okay?”
“Fuck no. She killed the man who killed her mother. How you think she’s doin’?”
“Sorry, man. She’ll get through it. You’ll get her through it.”
“Talk to her, buddy,” Boomer chimed in. “You’re good at talking.”
“Yeah, I’ll do my best.” He tossed the radio on the bed and decided to give her some time while he ate. Then, he’d drag her ass back inside and hammer this out.
The ham, eggs and potatoes were still warm and went a long way to help his head. When he finished, he tossed the garbage and went to the door. She was sitting outside the door, legs crossed with her chin propped on her hand. He cracked the door open.
“Veronica, get in here.”
She didn’t even flinch. As carefree as possible, she unfolded her legs, stood, stretched and walked back inside.
“What is it? Did they spot him?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“You and me are gonna work this out.”
“There’s nothing to work out.”
“Yes, there is. He’s dead. You killed him with these,” he grabbed her hands and held them out in front of her. “and now you don’t know how to deal with it.” He didn’t like pushing her like this, but the sooner she dealt, the faster she’d heal.
She whirled on him, venom in her eyes. “What the hell do you know about it?” she spat.
“You think I was born with my first kill? You may think I’m hard, babe, but I ain’t that hard. I’ve been where you are.”
“You have never been where I am. Never and don’t you pretend that you have.” She paced, back and forth in front of him. “The high and mighty Ricochet thinks he knows it all,” she muttered.
“I don’t know everythin’, but I do know the pain of the first.” She was vibrating with negative, angry energy. It filled the room like thick smoke.
“What makes you think I care about killing him? He killed my mother, in case you forgot.”
“No, I haven’t forgotten. But that doesn’t make it any easier, no matter how much you wish it did. He would have killed you, Veronica, without even blinking. Don’t forget that. He was willin’ to kill me, Kong, Boomer, Dragon and Gunner. Was his life worth more than ours?”
“No, damn it, no.” She paced faster, pounding her fists into her thighs. “You don’t understand, you don’t get it.”
“Than make me understand,” he barked.
“I wanted it. I wanted to end his life so much I could taste it. I couldn’t let Gunner take the shot. I moved him out of the way so he couldn’t take the shot. It had to be me.” Her voice had dropped an octave, her eyes grew icy.
As painful as it was to watch, he knew she had to work through this. In order for her to live with it she had to get it all right in her mind and
the journey there was hell. All he could do was listen and be there when she reached the end.
“My whole life boiled down to that moment. I dreamed of having him in my hands. I dreamed of every possible way to end his miserable life. And when it came time to do it I was glad. Hell, I was blissfully happy. What kind of person does that make me Ricochet? What kind of monster have I become? Like him. That’s what I’ve become. Him.”
He moved forward. “No, babe. You aren’t a monster.”
She swung out at him. “Stay away from me.” Her growling, gravely voice filled the room.
Tears streamed down her face, her eyes were red and puffy and all he wanted to do was kiss her, make her pain go away. His heart ripped to shreds wishing he could do this for her and spare her the agony.
“When I felt his neck snap and his body go limp it was a rush.” She bent forward, gagging. “I felt his bones break…” She heaved again, harder this time. “I felt his life leave his body.”
A violent wave of nausea overtook her. Before she could drop to the floor, he jumped to her side, dragged her to the bathroom and held her hair back as she retched. Her body tightened, heaved and released until he was sure she’d collapse. It took everything he could pull from inside to keep from gathering her in his arms and running. This wasn’t fair. She’d been through so damn much already and now she had to deal with this.
When the spasms eased he rubbed her back. He remembered this part. After his first kill he went home, drank himself into oblivion and spent hours puking up his guts. Kong came by the next day and nursed him back to health and then they talked for hours.
He didn’t say anything as she rinsed her mouth out and wiped the tears from her face. When she was done cleaning up, he led her back to the bed, laid her down and held her. When she curled into his body and nuzzled her face into his neck he relaxed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be. It’s all part of it.”
“You mean to tell me you did that?”
“Well, I got drunk and then puked. You did it the easy way.”
“What am I going to do now? This has been my whole reason for living. My life centered around finding the man who killed my mother.”
“Take it day by day. There are other things out there you could do.”
“I don’t know. I feel so empty right now.”
He rolled onto his side and brushed her hair from her face. “I can help with that.”
She thought he was going to kiss her when he moved forward. Instead he placed a tender kiss on her forehead, then the tip of her nose and across her cheek. Next he moved to her ear and nibbled on her lobe before brushing his lips down her neck and across her shoulder. Her body shivered with desire.
When he moved away, she moaned and tried to drag him back. He had other plans. With gentle hands he lifted her shirt over her head, reached behind and unsnapped her bra, tossing it aside after he pulled it from her body. The way he drank her in sparked a fire deep in her womb. Then his gaze settled on the small stab wound.
Once again his eyes hardened.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
The tips of his fingers circled the outer rim of the wound, her muscles quivered under his touch. That small reaction whisked away the hate in his eyes. When he leaned forward and repeated the action with the tip of his tongue she sucked in a deep breath. Tingling sensations skittered across skin.
Ever so slowly he moved up her torso, kissing, licking her flesh as if he needed it to sustain him. With each glorious stroke of his tongue the spark inside her grew until it consumed her. Liquid heat pooled between her legs. His warm breath brushed the underneath of her breast, drawing a groan of anticipation from deep in her throat.
His warm, moist mouth clamped down over her erect nipple and rolled it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Intense pleasure shot from her breast up to her head until she thought it would explode. She arched off the bed, pressing against his mouth. The only thing she could think was more.
While he laved her breast, his hand slid down her flat tummy, flicked open the snap of her jeans and slid her zipper open. His deft hand worked her jeans down around her hips until she lay uncovered. The cool air in the room was like ice on her flaming hot mound, intensifying the ache that throbbed there.
The dingy hotel room spun as ecstasy swamped her, pushing away any uncertainty that lingered. So many sensations coursed through her body she didn’t realize what he was doing until his finger delved deep inside her. Her hips bucked forward, a yelp of desperation tore from her throat.
The deepest growl she’d ever heard vibrated against breast.
“My God, Veronica, you are so hot and wet,” he breathed against her throat.
“Yes,” she panted.
Afraid he’d pull away, she reached between her legs and held his hand there as she rocked her hips back and forth. Her frenzied movements fed him. He crushed her lips with his, pushing his tongue into her mouth and sweeping it. The harder she worked his finger the more demanding his kiss became.
She couldn’t breathe. He was stealing her breath but she didn’t care. All she wanted was the heavenly release she was so close to. With one slight movement of his finger inside her tunnel, she clamped down and then exploded. He caught her scream with his kiss, groaning in response.
“I need more,” she pleaded squirming out from under him. “Please tell me you have condoms.”
“Wallet.”
The strain in his voice urged her on. He needed more as well. While she searched his wallet, he removed his pants and boxers. Desperate, she ripped the plastic packet open with her teeth. Ricochet obviously couldn’t wait either. He snatched the latex from her hands and rolled it down his thick erection.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go for a ride.”
Oh yes, she thought, I want to ride. Ride until her brain turned to mush and she couldn’t think anymore. Centering herself over his body, she wrapped her hand around his long, thick shaft and guided it to her sensitive, swollen opening. She wanted to see his face when she took him in. She had to see that he wasn’t disgusted or affected by what she’d done to Grear.
Slowly she lowered, stretching and filling herself, feeling him grow with each luscious inch she took. As his head slid past that wonderful little spot in her wall her body involuntarily shivered. Ricochet reached up and glided his hands down the length of her arms.
“Am I hurting you?”
She couldn’t speak. Her breath lodged in her lungs, her mind couldn’t form the words. All she could do was shake her head. Wanting to feel it again, she raised and lowered once more. Again she shivered.
“You like that,” he ground out between his teeth.
A desperate groan was his answer.
Ricochet slid his hands around her waist, down the curve of her rounded ass and supported her, lifting and lowering, not allowing her to sink any further. He quickened his pace, raising his hips as she took him. Over and over, his head rubbed her most sensitive spot, driving her higher up the mountain that would lead to bliss.
Nothing existed anymore, just him and her. Fire, electricity, pleasure she’d never experienced before in her life took over her body. Helpless to control herself, she sank her fingers into his chest, tossed her head back and let loose a cross between a growl and a scream as her body exploded, clenching and releasing.
His rhythm never ceased. He continued to hold her ass, pounding himself only far enough inside her to feed her orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her body until she thought she would shatter into thousands of little pieces.
She pleaded with him, whimpering his name over and over. Did she want him to stop, or continue? She wasn’t sure. The only thing she was sure of was no man had ever brought her this much fulfillment and rapture.
When she thought she’d collapse from exhaustion, he rolled, tossing her on the bed. The movement was so fast her head spun. Her body not her own any longer, she flopped like a rag doll when he
rolled her once more onto her stomach. She shrieked when he reached under her and lifted, raising her ass in the air. There was no time to think. He plunged himself inside her from behind.
She would have collapsed had he not been supporting her, his arm wrapped tightly around her tummy. She couldn’t breathe. She could do nothing but feel. And oh, it felt like he was killing her with ecstasy.
He leaned forward, flipped her hair out of the way and whispered in her ear as he withdrew and plunged over and over again.
“I love you, Veronica,” he panted. “I want you for the rest of my life.”
The combination of his hot, steamy breath and endearing words took her to the next level. She didn’t think it possible, but her muscled walls tightened around him, trying to drag him in deeper.
“I love you, baby, and nothing you can say or do will change that.”
It all came together then. In one brilliant blast of blinding light she lifted her head, cried out and released the most powerful orgasm she’d ever felt in her life. Pain and pleasure combined with the knowledge that she loved him too. Simultaneously, he thrust his pulsing cock forward until it hit the entrance to her womb. He buried his face in her neck and rumbled from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
She couldn’t stop herself, wasn’t even sure where it came from but she cried. Hot, fat tears streamed down her cheeks as her body trembled from her orgasm. Her sobbing filled the room. Ricochet pressed his body close to her, lowered her to the bed and wrapped her in his arms.
“Shhh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he murmured.
Unable to stop her uncontrollable crying, all she could do was press herself against him and let the tears flow.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
Were those tears she felt dripping on her shoulder?
“You didn’t hurt me,” she sobbed. “That was incredible.”
“Then why are you cryin’?”
Yes, his hot tears were dropping on her already sweat-slick skin. She rolled in his arms, pressed herself against the length of his body and looked into his eyes. Glistening tears streamed from his eyes and touched her soul. This man truly cared about her, loved her, and dear God she loved him too.
Ricochet's Rogue (Agent of Mercy, Book Three) Page 25