Extraction Point (Ricochet #3) by Heather C. Leigh

screaming— throughout the night. He was no stranger to them himself, having woken up dozens of times in a pool of his own sweat.
    Lying on her side, facing Rick, Quinn’s soft features scrunched up as if in pain.
    “No!”
    Her breathing became erratic, huffing out between her full lips. Just like every night for the last three weeks, Rick tried to soothe her while she slept. He couldn’t stop the nightmares, or erase what horrors this innocent girl had faced, but he could try to ease her out of them when they occurred.
    Rick skimmed his fingers over her hair, gently stroking the silky strands, hoping his touch would relax her.
    “Stop! Stop!”
    The agitation was becoming worse. Quinn fisted the sheets, clawing at them frantically.
    “It’s okay, doll,” Rick whispered, his heart breaking for the beautiful, damaged girl he loved. “Shhhhh.” His hand moved lower, caressing her arm.
    “Rick.”
    His attention went back to her face, certain that she must have woken up to address him, but he found her eyes were still closed.
    “Rick, no! Don’t!”
    What?
    “Quinn.” Rick spoke louder, hoping to ease her from the dream gradually.
    “Don’t kill him. Rick, no!”
    Fuck, she’s dreaming that her bastard ex killed me.
    “Quinn! Doll, wake up!”
    Rick was starting to lose it. It was bad enough that Quinn was abused and kidnapped by a complete psycho. She didn’t need nightmares of him being killed by the asshole on top of everything else she was suffering through.
    “No! No! Rick… don’t shoot!”
    With his heart racing and his palms beginning to sweat, Rick sat up and grabbed both of Quinn’s shoulders. “Quinn, you’re dreaming, doll. Wake up!”
    Startling him, Quinn’s eyes flew open and she gasped loudly, clutching at her chest. Rick waited a minute for her to get her bearings. She looked scared as shit and completely confused.
    “Oh my god,” she whispered, tears shining in her eyes.
    “Are you okay?”
    He was hesitant to touch her. Worried he might send her over the edge if Travis was attacking her in her dream.
    Quinn blinked, then threw her arms around Rick, holding back a sob. Grateful she came to him, he held on tight, quietly whispering in her ear and stroking her back.
    “It’s okay. Just a dream, doll.”
    She sniffed, sitting back on her heels to wipe her cheeks. “No, it was awful. I’m so confused.”
    “Okay. Do you want to tell me?” Rick sat on the bed facing her. Quinn didn’t usually want to discuss the nightmares. She said it was like reliving them over again and again.
    “I–I don’t know.”
    It upset him that she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You said my name.”
    Her lip trembled, making him feel like shit for pushing.
    “Forget it. You don’t have to tell me, Quinn.” As much as he wanted to know what happened, the last thing he wanted to do was put more stress on her.
    “No, it’s just… it was so confusing. You… you were about to kill Travis. Shoot him.”
    “And that confused you?”
    Hell, I thought she was dreaming about that douchebag killing me, not the other way around.
    “I—I don’t want you to kill Travis.”
    “What?”
    No. No way. There’s no way she would ask for mercy for that asshole.
    Rick leapt from the bed and began pacing the room, dressed only in a pair of black briefs.
    “You can’t be serious.”
    He turned towards the window, his shoulders rigid as he stared out at the faint early morning light, trying to hide his anger. A muffled cry caught his attention. Spinning back to face the bed he saw Quinn with her head buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
    Fuck!
    “Doll, no. Don’t cry. You don’t mean it. Think about it. Don’t you want that monster gone for good?”
    As much as he wanted to comfort her, Rick couldn’t get past the intense, primal need to make Travis Hardy pay for what he did to Quinn.
    “I d-d-don’t t-t-think so,” she wailed. “C-can’t he j-just go to jail?”
    Rick masked his fury, trying