Shots Fired (The Blade Kings #3)

Prologue

October

ARCHER

If I was in deep before, I’m certifiably drowning now.

I shouldn’t be talking to this girl; I can feel the weight of her brother’s eyes as they bore into my head.

My conscience is pleading with me to back away now.

It knows the truth behind all my smiles, laughter, and stares—I’m obsessed with Darcy Thompson.

My addiction to her grows each time I make my excuses to engage her in conversation.

The difference tonight: she doesn’t have a man. Darcy’s newly single with plans to move to the US in the next few months, and that’s … a recipe for disaster.

Every time I speak to an attractive woman, my mission is simple: bed her and get out before she wants more.

It wouldn’t matter if she made it clear it was sex with no strings; I’m hightailing it out of the hotel room or conjuring up an excuse as to why I need to leave.

I’ve always been armed with an exit strategy, always been in control of my feelings and what we do.

But with Darcy, everything goes out the window.

It’s like I’m a virgin again—giddy and unable to control my heart rate or thoughts.

The constant swinging between her beauty and brilliance leaves my brain zero time to compute that she’s my center’s baby sister with a big heart that just got broken by her shitty ex, and I’m the worst possible candidate to help fix it.

The reality: I’m in the hottest, deepest water a guy could find himself. Yet the longer I stay here, the more I believe it isn’t so bad after all. I could tread water until I was scalding, and I’d still thank Cupid for the privilege of ten minutes in her company.

This cocktail bar isn’t one we’ve visited often, and the warm, twinkling string lights overhead reflect in her huge blue eyes.

She’s like porcelain, a classic British rose, with pink cheeks and honey-blonde hair that stretches down her petite frame.

She’s smart too; this girl has brains bigger than the island where she grew up.

It’s not too late to back away.

“I’m thinking I don’t need a big place, especially with the cost of rent around here.” Darcy runs a French-manicured finger around the rim of her empty cocktail glass, wincing at the prices of accommodations in Brooklyn.

“You could always ask your brother to help you out,” I suggest, already knowing she’ll hate everything about that idea.

Darcy is independent and hasn’t made a secret of it.

She scoffs, pushing away her glass, and I immediately raise my arm, asking the bartender for another.

Strange approach to backing away slowly, Archer.

“I’m not owned by any man.”

As she replies, I can sense the conflict in her; she wants to maintain her usually bright persona—or at least the only one she lets the world see. But tonight is different . She feels different.

A seed of anger takes residence in the pit of my gut, threatening to bloom into something more at the thought of her ex-boyfriend—the guy who made her feel less than. I know he’s responsible for the slump in her shoulders.

“Why do I get the feeling that statement was loaded and not really about apartment-hunting?” I ask cautiously, dipping my head down to catch her gaze as she pulls a replenished cosmo toward her and plays with the thin black straw resting on the side of the glass.

She looks up at me then, big irises a little more constricted, stress pulling her smile lower than usual.

“Maybe because it was,” she answers with a small shrug, her dainty shoulder doing things to me.

“Ever wonder how the hell you let so much of your time get wasted with the wrong person?” She quickly waves a dismissive hand.

“No, I guess you don’t since you have never had a relationship, let alone one where you spent nearly thirty-five percent of your life with the same person. ”

I open my mouth to reply, but clamp it shut. She’s right; I haven’t ever had a girlfriend. Not even for a day. The closest I ever got to a commitment was a repeat hookup in Texas, and that was only because I forgot we’d already banged.

Darcy blows into her cheeks. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? Matters of the heart don’t usually make a great cocktail mixer.”

Since I’m standing next to the barstool she’s perched on, I can make this discreet. I shift my body closer, turning to face her before running a light finger down the outside of her hand as it rests on the bar top.

I don’t miss the faint shudder as it passes through her arm or the steady kick of my heart when it beats faster. It’s the first time I’ve ever touched her deliberately, and even though I know I’m sinking to new depths, I can’t find it in me to care.

“Liam,” I say softly. “That’s who you’re talking about, right?”

Almost like she needs a second to gather herself, Darcy quickly takes a sip of her drink, and I track her movements, blinking away when the glass reaches her mouth.

“He’s not worth me giving a second thought to.” Voice stern and determined, she sets the glass back down, flicking her long hair as she does. “He clearly wasn’t thinking about me when he got with someone else behind my back, so why should I allow him into my head?”

This time, I take a sip of my own beer. It’s practically room temperature since I forgot all about it.

“But he is in your head. Why else would you have said anything?” I don’t know how she’s going to handle my question; it’s my addiction to this girl that forces me to ask.

Challenging her might be a mistake. The conversations we share are always lighthearted—about her studies and her dream career in editing or my hockey game she just watched.

“Forgive me for being so blunt, Archer.” Darcy turns to look at me, one brow raised.

“But why do you care?” She swivels on her stool, and I take a step back to give her room.

“You have an entire bar full of hot women—most of them have been watching you this whole time, by the way—and here you are, talking to your teammate’s baby sister about her crappy ex and refusal to pay high rent prices. ”

She turns back to the bar, and I make brief eye contact with her brother, Jack. He’s still staring in our direction, with the same irritated expression he wears whenever I’m near his sister.

Like always, I offer him a thumbs-up and a wink before getting back to Darcy.

“Talking to you is more interesting.” I throw in a confident smile to mask how fucking serious I am.

“I don’t know if you can tell by now, Darcy, but I like talking to you.

It beats an empty conversation with some random chick about a hockey game I know she didn’t watch and my own internal thoughts over how quickly I can get her naked and the deed done. ”

Her head whips up to mine, nothing but shock written across her face before she throws her head back with a belly laugh that never fails to spread my grin wider.

“Oh my God, you are unbelievable—you know that?” she says between fits of giggles. “I laugh, but you know what?” She draws a deep breath, pointing at me. “I think you might just have the right approach in life.”

Still smiling, I shake my head in confusion.

Her pink cheeks are rosier as she takes another sip of her cocktail, and I watch her swallow it down.

“You have fun and don’t take anything too seriously. Hell”—she throws an arm up, nearly knocking me out in the process—“you could have your pick of the women on this planet, and none of them could ever hurt you because you’re in control.”

Her pointer finger lightly presses into the center of my chest, and, fuck, I shouldn’t feel that all the way into my toes.

Because I can’t figure out what else to do, I continue staring at the girl in front of me, wishing away the past nine years of my adult life, along with all the news outlets that reported on it.

“Darcy …” I begin, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

I might as well start being honest with her now, even if it’s to tell her she has me wrong and that the “fun” lifestyle she thinks she wants isn’t all that, when my captain and one of my closest friends, Sawyer Bryce, taps me on the shoulder.

“I’m heading home, buddy.”

He glances over at Collins—Darcy’s friend and a pink-haired biker chick he’s been relentlessly pursuing with no luck. I guess tonight is no exception.

Darcy stares down into her cocktail glass. She’s only half finished with her drink, and I’ve got so much more I want to say.

Sawyer taps me on the shoulder again, and I know this is his version of my own warning. The one I’ve been ignoring.

Stay away from Darcy Thompson.

On a long breath, I pull out my wallet and set fifty dollars on the bar.

“How are you getting home?” I ask Darcy, Sawyer still hovering behind me.

She thumbs over her shoulder, and I cast a quick glance at Jack and his girlfriend, Kendra Hart. “I go home when they do. I’m keeping their spare bedroom company.”

I already know where she’s staying and that her brother would take her home. Still, I can’t help but ask on the off chance she’ll suggest taking a ride with me.

When Sawyer steps away to grab his jacket. I linger for a beat, just like the addict I am. “Liam isn’t worth it, Darcy. He never was and never will be.”

She smiles over her shoulder at me. “I know.”

“If you need any help moving in when you get here, just hit me up, okay?” I say, a foreign lilt of desperation in my voice.

When she slides down from her stool, our height difference is obvious as she looks up at me, even in killer black heels.

“I have a former NHL player for a stepdad and a current one for a brother. The biggest items I possess are my kettle and toaster, so I think I’ll be good. But thank you; that’s a kind offer.”

I nod once, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my black jeans.

“Archer!” Sawyer flicks his hand toward me.

Jack calls Darcy’s name, too, as he and Kendra shrug on their jackets.

“Will I see you again before you move here?”

She rolls her lips together. “Yeah, probably. I have a lot to figure out before I make the move here in February.”

The need to bend down and plant a kiss on her forehead sends me dizzy, but even I know that would be a step too far.

Picking up her bag from the bar, she loops the strap over her wrist and then pulls her coat from the back of the stool. A part of me wonders if she’s buying a few more seconds as she hesitates to move.

A part of me also concludes that’s wishful thinking.

When she does finally step away, panic curdles low in my stomach. I had a chance to say something more, and I didn’t take it.

“Darcy,” I rush out as Jack, Kendra, and Sawyer push through the exit and into the night.

She spins on her heel, hair whipping around her.

“Just … remember what I said. He isn’t worth it.”

Warmth floods her features as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “See you when I’m next stateside, Archer.”