THIRTEEN #2
When Stina entered, he studied her face for signs that she knew about her parents, but she only faced their commanding officer like she did everything in life—without a hint of fear.
She looked at Rome. “You were taking too long, so I came to see what was keeping you.” Then she turned her attention to Cannon. “If it helps, I already know we’re under a ski resort.”
Cannon gave her a flat look. “Jolie?”
She nodded.
Cannon closed his eyes briefly as if searching for patience behind his lids. When he opened them, he looked at Rome. “Get Monk in here. Can none of you people control your women?”
Rome forced himself not to dart a glance at Stina to see if she picked up on those two words—your women.
Cannon went on, muttering under his breath. “Why do we even bother with hoods anymore?”
Stina shot a hand up. “For the record, I’m all for getting rid of the hoods.”
Rome automatically brushed his fingers over the healed claw marks on his arm.
He shook his head, exasperated and yet battling a softer emotion he wasn’t ready to face yet.
With a groan, Cannon flicked his head toward the door for them to leave.
Taking it for permission, Rome reached for Stina’s hand and led the woman who he hadn’t yet claimed as his out of the office.
* * * * *
Stina knew she had cabin fever, but as she followed Rome up a flight of stairs, she practically vibrated with excitement.
“I watch a lot of content with people exploring abandoned places. Malls, hospitals, theme parks. Some old mental asylums. Places frozen in time,” she told him as they moved through the dark, guided only by the dim light of his phone. He clasped her hand firmly in his own.
His eyes glittered as he glanced back at her. “Now you’re about to find out what that’s like.”
They climbed the last stretch of stairs toward a door. “I wish I had a camera. This would get so many views.”
Rome shot her another look. “This is classified, Stina.”
“I know, I know. I wouldn’t actually film it and put all of us in jeopardy. I’m just saying, in another life, this would be content gold.”
They mounted two more steps. The flight seemed to go on forever.
“You chased those skiers off the mountain. People must show up here sometimes.”
“They do.”
She gestured at the worn steps coated in dust. “Your team’s not worried about people finding your base?”
“We have ways to keep them out of the building.”
A little shiver ran through her. Everything Rome said and did came with an edge of danger that was undeniably hot.
And that made her brain flood with memories of his mouth on her. His fingers on her. His cock inside her.
When they reached the door, he punched a code into a high-tech keyboard that looked out of place on the old metal. When he pushed the door open and the resort opened up in front of her, every thought in her head vanished.
It was like stepping into 1968.
The lobby alone made her stop walking. From the retro furnishings to the wood paneling on every wall, she couldn’t take it in fast enough.
“Wow,” she breathed. “Imagine coming to stay here back in the day.”
“It was open until the eighties when it was seized by the government.”
She blinked up at Rome. “For what reason?”
“The owner’s son thought it was a perfect cover for a drug ring. The government thought differently.”
“So they made it a ghost ops base.” She drifted over to a fireplace big enough to stand in, flanked by chairs upholstered in a pattern that had probably been considered tasteful once.
Everything was coated in a fine layer of dust but otherwise untouched. Like the doors had simply been locked on a time capsule.
She trailed her fingers over the back of one chair. “This is incredible.”
Rome let her wander around, inspecting everything from small objects on the mantel to paintings on the walls. Then he wrapped his fingers around hers and gave her a small tug.
She let him lead her to the next space. When they walked into a spacious kitchen, she stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed by the patina of old steel under dust. Industrial ranges and a walk-in cooler similar to downstairs lined the walls.
And then—she gasped—a massive stand mixer sat in the corner like a forgotten monument.
“Rome! Look at this thing.” She ran her hand over the big bowl.
She gripped the crank and tried to turn the gears, but nothing happened. They were frozen solid, welded together by decades of disuse.
“It’s seized up.” Her voice echoed around the room with disappointment. But as soon as she opened a cupboard, she gasped with delight again.
The whole place was a treasure hunt, well-preserved, not looted or ruined by vagrants and gangs like the abandoned places in Chicago.
She found some pans that weren’t warped, and several loaf pans she could use. She turned to him. “Can we take these?”
His eyes twinkled, reminding her of her parents on holidays and birthdays when they’d watch her open presents, and her heart tripped.
“Take whatever you want.”
She sent a longing look at the mixer again. “It’s too bad the mixer doesn’t work. And I don’t have a cast iron dutch oven. I could focus on my bread-making skills and so many other things.”
“Maybe we’ll put in a request.”
She laughed and kept moving, opening drawers that stuck before releasing with a puff of stale air. “If this place was in Chicago, nothing would be left of it.”
“That’s because of the people living downstairs.”
She studied him from the corner of her eye. Her lover. Her protector. There was so much more she wanted to know about Jack Rome. She only hoped she had a little more time left.
She filed away that unexpected insight and kept moving.
They found a hot tub in what used to be a spa room, the water long evaporated, the jets crusted with mineral deposits. She traced the cracked edge, imagining what it must have looked like full and steaming, guests soaking after a day on the slopes.
“Too bad it’s broken.” She swung toward Rome and planted a hand on his chest.
He stilled, staring down at her.
She trailed her hand down his chest, lower, until it rested just above his belt. “Would be a shame to waste the opportunity if it was in operating order.”
His eyes glimmered. “Oh, everything is in operating order. I assure you.”
She tossed her head with a laugh and moved on, leaving him standing in the dust.
Room after room revealed something new. A game room with a pool table that had felt rotted in patches.
A library with shelves of paperbacks gone soft and curling at the edges.
One of the guest rooms had a bedspread with a pattern that made her eyes hurt, and a closet that still held a forgotten coat.
She gathered a small collection of things to take with her. From the resort’s gift shop, she picked up a brass keychain shaped like a ski and a stack of pretty postcards.
Then she found the painting.
It was tucked in a corner of what had been a sitting room—a small, abstract piece in blues and golds. A little dated but genuinely lovely. The kind of thing she’d find in a thrift shop and place on her own wall.
Immediately, she thought of the niche Jolie had created downstairs. Her friend had showed it to her with a little hint of pride in her voice—a simple desk pushed into an open spot on the wall, and a few personal touches she’d added that made the concrete warmer and more inviting.
She stared up at the painting that was hung a little high for her to reach. “I want to take that for Jolie.”
When Rome stepped up behind her, his body heat washed over her, leaving her tingling with awareness. And his scent…the soap and mountain air…flooded her veins with heat and desire.
He reached over her head and lifted the painting from the wall. When he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, heightening her senses even more.
She turned the small painting over in her hands, already picturing it propped against the wall above that desk, and felt something swell in her chest that had nothing to do with the painting itself.
Jolie was never just a best friend—she was a sister, and they were in this together. The danger, the hiding, the strange, suspended life underground, none of it would have been survivable alone.
And now, holding a painting she wanted to give her best friend just to see her smile, Stina understood something else too.
She understood exactly why Jolie was so wrapped up in Archer. Why her friend’s whole face changed when he walked into a room.
Because Stina was starting to feel the same way about Jack Rome.