Page 108 of Ricochet

Before I can clear my head, Callum speaks first.

“Eric, whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”

“Let me handle this, Callum,” I tell him without taking my eyes off our teammate.

Dead teammate.

“If I do that, you’re going to kill each other.”

It’s like he’s reading my mind.

Eric steps further into the living room and stops beside the coffee table. When he leans down to unzip my bag, I move forward. He raises his gun. I freeze when he aims it at my head.

I don’t give a damn about myself. I’m only worried about Callum.

If I’m dead, I can’t protect him.

Peering into my bag, Eric arches a brow. “A knife. A gun. And lube.” He looks back up with an annoying smirk I’d love to wipe off his face. “Fun weekend?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He picks up the bag and walks backwards with it to drop it on the floor of the kitchen. “On the couch. Both of you.”

I push Callum behind me, planning on walking in front of him on our way to the sofa. Instead of heading that way, he moves around and steps past me. I immediately reach out and grab onto his arm.

“Eric, you don’t have to—”

“Shut the fuck up, Cal,” he snaps, directing the barrel of the gun at his supposedfriend.

That’s when I fucking lose it.

Yanking Callum back, I shove him toward the couch. I get two steps in Eric’s direction before his weapon is trained back on me. Normally, I wouldn’t give a fuck about getting myself killed.

But things change.

If I was any closer, I’d snatch the gun out of Eric’s hand. At least he’s smart in that regard and staying far enough away from me to prevent that.

Leaning forward to the point that it has Eric’s finger itching at the trigger, I lower my voice and speak as steady as the storm that’s raging inside me. “Aim that gun at him again, and I’ll shove it up your ass and pull the trigger. Without lube.”

“Kinky,” he says with a straight face. “Sit the fuck down.”

The only reason I do is because of Callum.

When we’re both seated on the sofa, Eric stands on the other side of the coffee table a few feet back and lowers his gun.

“Now,” he starts, gaze pinned on me, “you could save us all a lot of time if you just confess.”

“Why the fuck do you think I killed your uncle?”

“I saw Callum’s drawings.”

For the first time, I take my eyes off of Eric to peer over at Callum. His head is lowered, staring at his lap.

“When?” I ask, looking back at Eric.

“The other day.” That smug fucking tone I’ve heard him use before returns. “Snuck into his room while he was getting a shower.”

Blood rushes in my ears, my left eye twitches, and I swear a molar cracks.