Ricochet: Friendly Fire by Leigh Heather C

Author:Leigh, Heather C. [Leigh, Heather C.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Publisher: Shelbyville
Published: 2015-04-05T04:00:00+00:00

“One more set, Rick. Gimme ten more reps and we’ll call it a day.”

Rick glared at Clint from his reclining position on the mat where he was resting between sets of crunches, his hand clamped down on his healing side. “You have no idea how much this fucking hurts, asshole.”

“I think I preferred being called stud to asshole. Now quit bitching and finish up. This is nothing compared to Recon boot camp. If you ever want to get back in the field or hell, even back in the cage training, then you’ll do what I say without complaining like a little pussy.”

Rick’s arm shot out to land a hard punch on the big man’s massive bicep before Clint could react. Clint scowled, moving to punch him back, but stopped when he saw Rick laughing at him.

“Real funny, Rick. Don’t poke a sleeping bear. Especially when you’re not at one-hundred percent.” Clint gave Rick a sadistic looking grin. “Now finish your crunches so I can go home. My wife is making her special lemon chicken tonight and I’d like to eat it while it’s still hot.”

Rick finished his last sit up and grabbed his towel off the mat, wiping the sweat off of his face and neck. “Tiger is making her lemon chicken?” His eyebrows raised and his stomach growled at the thought of eating Mara Paxton’s home cooked meal. That recipe was his favorite and that bastard Clint knew it.

Dickhead, rubbing it in.

“Yeah.” Clint gave Rick an evil smile. “Why, you like her lemon chicken?”

Rick scowled. “You know I do. It’s my fucking favorite.” He grunted, standing up with less difficulty than he had last week when his stitches came out.

“Well, come over then. Mara always makes plenty. She was just saying how she hadn’t seen you in a while.” Clint grabbed his bottle of water, downing half of it in two big swallows.

Rick paused, the thought of having a real dinner with friends and not crappy take-out while sitting on his couch alone was enough to make his stomach growl. “If you’re sure, I’m not going to say no… stud.”

Clint laughed. “That’s better! I’ll see you at seven.” The big man turned and walked towards the locker room.

Rick was more excited than he had been in a while and that was depressing. Chicken was the only thing in his life he had to look forward to? His usual night out of going to a bar and meeting a nameless girl to get laid didn’t have the appeal it used to have.

Shaking his head, he followed Clint, wondering when fun, charming, bed-hopping Ricochet became so fucking pathetic.

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