At the Quietest Word Page 5

  “Woo-hoo! Now that’s what I’m talking about!” A tall brunette called out.

  “Shush, Lauren,” a slender blonde—like the younger version of Emily—blushed brightly. But she didn’t look away either.

  “Maybe horse ranches aren’t such bad places,” Anton whispered far too loudly and grinned back at the two women.

  “Sparklers,” Jesse noted.

  Sure enough, Ricardo spotted the sunlight glinting off their left ring fingers.

  “Tough luck, Anton.”

  “Doesn’t hurt none to look. Don’t mind being looked at myself.”

  A tall redhead—with hair far brighter than Michelle’s seductive auburn—trotted out of the barn to join the other two. Also wearing a sparkler, Ricardo noticed.

  “Well, howdy!” She made a show of stopping her horse facing them over the corral fence. “Oh, how I do love the movies,” she called over to her friends.

  The blonde simply just turned and left through the open gate at a fast trot. The brunette followed close behind, but the redhead took the leisure of one more teasingly long look before winking broadly and turning to chase after her friends. All three sat their horses very, very well.

  How would Michelle look up on a horse? Very easy to imagine—Utterly exceptional!

  They turned back to their tires with renewed enthusiasm.

  “They’ve got three like that here, then maybe there’s more. Maybe even one to look at a poor shrimp like you, Ricardo.”

  All the friendly harassing that Anton slung his way helped distract him from his thoughts, but Ricardo didn’t take as much joy as he’d expected from Jesse’s struggles to keep up with them. Jesse might be powerfully built, but he had no idea how to flip a six-hundred-pound tire.

  “Here,” Ricardo went back to Jesse. “Low squat, straight back, arms outside your knees. Think of it like a barbell clean and jerk. Ready? Okay, explosive burst upward on three. When there’s space at the most unweighted moment, step forward and get a knee under there so that the tire rests on your thigh. Shift your grip deeper for the jerk and push over the top, but be ready to scoot your ass backward in case it comes back on you. One, two, three!”

  Jesse went for it and got it over with only a little help from Ricardo. By the third flip, he had the basic technique down. By the tenth he had it clean and was showing that he did have the right kind of strength.

  “Make a warrior out of you yet, Jesse.”

  “Well, I can see how you might be thinking that,” the cowboy blew out a hard breath and a grunt as he did the next flip, “but I’d rather be riding a horse any day.”

  “Why aren’t you? This is a horse ranch after all. Must be a couple spare mounts around despite all that stuff my sister’s doing.”

  “I’ll be meetin’ Hannah in half an hour for just that. Can’t believe all the things she can do but still not know somethin’ as easy as how to ride a horse.”

  “Not a lot of horses in Unit operations.” Ricardo went back to flipping his tire to avoid admitting he found the big animals a little unnerving. Because Jesse no longer needed his guidance and Anton had already reached the end of the yard and was heading back along the fence line, Ricardo focused on what he was good for—flipping a goddamn worn-out tire.

  “Need to be talking to your colonel about getting you boys some proper horse training,” Jesse gasped out another flip. He was still making too much work out of it, but there was only so far being a teammate went. A man had to do something to keep the upper edge over his buddies. “Think he’d bring back the cavalry? I’d wager that was something to see.”

  “Have you seen Gibson lately?” Ricardo hadn’t exactly been trying to run into him, but better him than Michelle.

  “Sure.”

  The loud thump of another of Jesse’s flips came from behind Ricardo as he froze. He’d been told when he asked around that Gibson was nowhere around—back in DC maybe. But he hadn’t asked Jesse until now. Gibson could apparently turn invisible in plain sight on a whim. How did the guy do that?

  “Can’t seem to turn around without tripping on him some. I’m thinkin’ he isn’t exactly sure about Hannah and me being together. He threatened me but good first time we met, and that was afore I knew who he was.”

  There was a sudden pounding behind them. Back at the tire pile behind the barn where they’d started, someone was flipping a tire in their direction—double time. The puff of dirt from each flip’s landing didn’t have a chance to settle before the next flip smacked down.

  “Holy shit!” Anton’s return from the far end of the yard had caught him up to Ricardo’s outbound progress before he’d noticed the fast pounding from the start of the yard. Sweat was streaming off Anton’s face and down his chest.

  They finally stopped to watch as the flipping tire approached them, continuing to mask the flipper in the cloud of raised dirt.

  “Hi, boys,” Colonel Gibson appeared out of the cloud as he flipped his tire past them. Ten more turns to the end of the yard, then five more until he was back beside them.

  Ricardo’s muscles burned just from watching him.

  “Thanks. Been a while since I thought to do this,” Gibson let the last flip smack down into the dirt.

  Ricardo stared at where it had landed just inches from his and Anton’s toes. Neither of them had sufficient self-preservation instincts God gave a mouse.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Gibson still wore his shirt and didn’t even have the decency to wipe at his brow.

  “Yes sir,” was all any of them could come up with.

  Rather than saying anything more, Gibson flipped his tire sideways to get around them and then shifted back to continue toward the tire stack.

  “Well don’t that beat all,” Jesse mopped his brow. He’d left his cowboy hat back where they’d started.

  Gibson was at least a decade older than any of them and also the shortest by a couple inches.

  “He could totally dust our asses,” Anton observed quietly.

  “All three of us at once, without breaking a sweat,” Ricardo agreed.

  “Man is a wonder,” Jesse sat down on his tire.

  “What do you think that’s about, other than showing us all what sorry excuses we are?”

  “Maybe he just was looking for a good workout,” was Jesse’s two cents, which wouldn’t buy two parts of a nickel.

  Ricardo didn’t believe it. Nope, not for a second.

  He heaved his tire upright and gave it a half-twist on its treads so that he could roll it back and catch up with Gibson before he left. However, the tire rolled over a prairie dog hill and flopped over sideways. When Ricardo looked up, Gibson’s tire was back where it started and, except for a lingering puff of dirt, the man might never have been there.

  But he felt sure that the colonel hadn’t come by idly…and that it wasn’t Jesse he was checking up on. Jesse and Anton had been pilots, only he himself had been a Unit operator. Of the three of them, only he had served under Colonel Gibson’s command.

  Had the colonel come down to watch him training? To see if he was strong enough to serve in whatever the hell Shadow Force: Psi was going to be with two civilian women aboard?

  Or…

  Shit!

  :What’s wrong?: Michelle responded immediately.

  :Nothing! Didn’t mean to broadcast. Sorry.:

  :Tell me anyway.:

  Ricardo bent down to flip his tire back toward the start point. He no longer cared that Anton had made it another ten or so flips down the yard and back more than he had.

  :Manella. (Grr!):

  He grunted the tire over another time. :Just got a visit from the colonel.:

  :Got one myself from that Emily woman.:

  :What did she want?:

  :You first.: He could feel Michelle’s silence almost as clearly as he could hear her voice. Yeah, she wouldn’t say a thing until he’d explained.

  :Bastard wants to know if I’m fit for service.:

  :You look very fit
to me.:

  :I meant fit for the team. Can I be trusted?: Regrettably Ricardo already knew the answer to that one.

  :Can you?:

  :Go to hell, woman.:

  :(Tease).:

  :Little late on that.:

  :Besides, I didn’t go the first time you told me to. What makes you think I would this time?:

  Ricardo could imagine the sweet and light tone even if he couldn’t hear it. Gods but she could twist him up.

  :Besides, I was distracted. As I said, you look very, very (many exclamation points) fit.:

  Ricardo grunted the tire over one last time, flopping it next to Gibson’s. Then he looked up as he tugged his shirt out of the back of his belt and mopped his face with it.

  Michelle was perched like a cowgirl atop Gibson’s flopped-down tire. She sat to one side, with her bright blue cowgirl boots resting on the other. Her button-down shirt, which she wore with the tails tied over her flat abs, matched her boots and contrasted with a pair of denim short-short cutoffs that hid only a little more than her bathing suit had. Somewhere she’d found a pink cowgirl hat with a silver medallion hatband.

  :Christ, Michelle. You look unbelievable.:

  :Believe it, mister.:

  :What’s the occasion?:

  At that she shrugged uncomfortably and blushed a little.

  Ricardo looked back over his shoulder. Anton was showing Jesse more tire-flipping techniques—probably some cool trick Ricardo didn’t even know.

  What could make her blush like that? Jesse was gone on Hannah and Anton was Michelle’s semi-brother. Not like either of those men could be of interest to her.

  The only other person here was…he looked down…himself. Most beautiful damn woman in the world is blushing like that because of me? Didn’t make any damn sense because…

  :Michelle?:

  At her silence, he spun from Anton and Jesse to see if she too had evaporated.

  She was still there.

  Except her pale skin had gone true white and her eyes were so wide she could have played the terrified babe in a slasher flick.

  :You okay?:

  She nodded a couple of times hastily, almost losing her hat. She cleared her throat, but didn’t speak aloud. :For once, Manella, could you tell me what you’re thinking? What you’re really thinking?:

  :Not my first choice.:

  :Tough patooties!:

  :You’re so cute when you try to swear.:

  She shot back an impressive stream of vitriol—acid enough to make any man wilt.

  :Nice.:

  Now her narrowed eyes might have become burning blue lasers.

  :Meant it as a compliment.: “The truth?” he asked aloud.

  “The truth.”

  He heard the tires thumping in their direction. One flopped down to either side of him, and both Anton and Jesse offered loud whooshing noises and laughter at the workout. One of them slapped his shoulder, but he didn’t look up to see which. Instead he just watched Michelle watch him.

  :The truth is, I know I could never deserve a woman like you.:

  :You goddamn idiot. I oughta kick your ass as hard as your sister kicked mine.: So Isobel actually had kicked Michelle.

  :But…:

  “Hey, you two doing that telepathy shit?” Anton leaned right down in his face. “You better not be talking dirty to my semi-sister.”

  :But?: Michelle prompted.

  “He always goes all cute and fuzzy, like a bullfrog staring up into a flashlight whenever they’re doin’ their thing.”

  :But,: Ricardo leaned to look around Anton and concentrated on Michelle. It would probably send her running in the other direction, but he was past his ability to keep it in. :It doesn’t stop me from wanting you more than any woman I’ve ever met in my life.:

  “Look, Jesse. They’re definitely doing that shit. You ever seen him look a woman in the eye other than when he’s talking to her in his head?”

  “I’d say you’re right, Anton,” Jesse retrieved his hat and tugged it on. “And I’m guessing that less’n you want your snoot shortened some, you might want to back off and leave them to it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. Why he’s no bigger’n a flea and I could…”

  But Ricardo wasn’t watching him, or Jesse. He was watching Michelle…and his own reaction.

  He wasn’t turning and running.

  He wasn’t regretting his words.

  For nine months, she’d been the angel in his head. Over the last three months since, he’d learned that she was even more incredible in real life. When Isobel had told him about Michelle becoming a paramedic because of what he had gone through, it only added to the image.

  Well, his cards were on the table and he wasn’t going to be the first one to flinch. He’d done that too many times over the last year. Michelle calling him a coward after he’d abandoned her at the swimming hole yesterday only emphasized that. Turning him into a coward would have only pleased those bastards in the jungle. Well, screw that shit.

  Though facing Michelle was harder than facing the entire command review board at the end of the month-long Delta Force Selection Process, he didn’t look away.

  She pushed to her feet and stepped out of the center of Gibson’s tire. Stepping up on the side of Ricardo’s tire, she was briefly taller than Anton.

  Not bothering to speak, she pushed her semi-brother aside as she stepped down into the middle of Ricardo’s tire.

  Anton stumbled backward, tripped on the edge of the tire he’d been working with, and planted his butt in the middle like he was inner tubing down a dirt river.

  “Could say I warned ya some,” Jesse laughed at Anton.

  But neither she nor Ricardo looked aside.

  Or laughed.

  Now only the arc of one side of the big tire separated her from Ricardo.

  His torture scars weren’t confined to his back. Or maybe the ones on his chest had been in the service of Delta.

  But his back.

  When he’d turned to face Anton and Jesse, she’d finally seen just what they’d done to him. Long lines of scar tissue crisscrossed like a broad lacework pattern. Scars overlaid scars. She’d only had a glimpse before he’d turned back to her…too fast for her to mask her horror.

  Emily had been right; it was a miracle that Ricardo had somehow regained his fighting core. How amazing did a man have to be in order to do that?

  And still he watched her with his dark, unblinking gaze.

  She almost asked if he was going to run, but she didn’t think calling a man like Ricardo a coward twice in as many days would end well.

  “You two doin’ it or not? We outta rig you with some lights, like blinking deer antlers or something, to tell us when y’all are communicating,” Anton commented from where he still sat in the dirt.

  “They’re communicating all right, just not with you,” Jesse observed.

  Michelle had a lifetime’s practice ignoring her semi-brother and now was no different.

  Unsure how to read Ricardo when he wasn’t even thinking aloud, she was left having to read herself. What did she want from this moment?

  That was an easy question.

  She propped one foot up on the tire, rested a hand on the warm skin of his chest so that she could lean close without falling forward, and kissed him.

  Ricardo didn’t react; didn’t kiss her back. Instead he continued to watch her—his dark eyes narrowed.

  Heat flashed to her cheeks. How had she been so wrong?

  As she started to pull back, Ricardo groaned. It was soft, so quiet that it might have been only in her head, but it was there.

  He grabbed at the wrist of the hand she’d rested against that dusty chest, his muscles rippling beneath her fingertips. While his grip wasn’t too tight, it was so solid that she knew he could do anything to her with that simple handhold. It was the same wrist he’d grabbed two days ago and she could feel how his grip mimicked the exact placement of every finger.

  All h
e did this time was keep her in place. Not just her hand, but by the angle of his grip, she couldn’t move her forearm, or even shift her body away.

  For one more moment, he kissed her as gently as he might if she really was an angel. Then he snagged his other arm around her waist and crushed her against his chest. Her free arm slid around his shoulder and over his scars, but neither of them cared.

  Anton made some noise in the far distance. So soft on her awareness that he might have been a mile away rather than lying at their feet.

  :God damn, woman.: Ricardo’s voice was tonally flat in her head as always.

  :I’m taking that as a compliment, not a curse.:

  :Shit, yeah!:

  She added the exclamation point herself.

  Shit, yeah, indeed!

  Chapter 6

  “Then he just kissed my semi-sister like we weren’t even there,” Anton was railing to Hannah as they sat aboard the small jet that was flying them eastward from Montana.

  Ricardo considered the consequences of pushing Anton out the hatch at thirty-five thousand feet without a parachute, but couldn’t justify the risk of depressurizing the plane and killing everybody else just for the satisfaction. Besides, the sun had set as they’d taken off. He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of watching Anton fall for seven miles. Out here in the Plains states, there were barely even any city lights to help.

  Instead of tossing Anton out, Ricardo was stuck sitting toe-to-toe with him in the little Gulfstream C-37A jet. Across the aisle, Jesse and Hannah sat opposite each other, with Isobel and Michelle in the pair of chairs behind him. The other eight seats were empty.

  “I thought they were gonna do it right there in front of us. Didn’t you, Jesse?”

  Jesse glanced over at Hannah before tugging down on the brim of his hat just enough to make it hard to see his eyes.

  “I think I’ll give this whole discussion a pass, pardner. You want to tick off your semi-sister, I guess that’s okay by me. But it doesn’t strike me as the safest ride at the rodeo.”