Hard Pursuit (SEAL Team Blackout Sierra #1)

PROLOGUE

The first thing Archer Carmichael noticed wasn’t the applause. It was the exits.

Two doors behind the crowd. One on the left, partially blocked by a catering table. Windows lining the far wall—fixed, but breakable if it came down to it. A narrow hallway leading to restrooms for the guests could bottleneck movement if things went bad.

He swept his gaze around the training hall in a single pass, cataloguing every detail without giving away that he was calculating how fast he could clear the room if he had to.

Archer sat in formation with the rest of the operators graduating today from the Black Heart Tactical Training Facility.

The clean rows mirrored the discipline drilled into them.

They were all here to celebrate surviving the most grueling training of their lives, but their uniforms were pristine and their shoes were polished.

On the outside, he fit in with the men who’d made it through—guys who’d spent weeks climbing at altitude with seventy-pound packs digging into their shoulders and lungs burning thanks to air that never felt like enough.

They’d learned how to move fast across loose scree without sliding, to trust crampons in ice even when it shifted under their weight. And to push past the shake in their legs halfway up a vertical ascent.

Sleep came in short, broken stretches, if it came at all. Food was rationed. When the price of every movement cost energy, wasting it wasn’t an option.

The applause swelled again, bouncing off the high timber ceilings of the training facility. The place smelled like the baked chicken the caterers waited to feed the group of graduates and their guests after the ceremony and the warmth of bodies seated too close together.

His senses were heightened, because before he was accepted into the mountain warfare program…before he was just another troubled vet in the Black Heart Therapy Program…he’d spent thirteen months in a single room with only the smell of his own stale sweat and fear.

He shut the memory down before it could take hold of him.

The guest speaker finished his speech to another round of applause. Archer scanned the exits one more time, his gaze snagging on the familiar faces of his family sitting in the third row.

Here to celebrate his achievement were his three brothers and his baby sister Ellory, the only family member to see him after he was freed from the hostage situation. He didn’t want any of them here, but family was encouraged to attend and Archer didn’t want to buck the system.

The speaker congratulated the operators and announced them as graduates to the sound of cheers and applause. He drifted to the middle of the open space with the men he’d clawed his way through drills with for the past three months.

While the families milled around, searching for their person, he swept a look over the group. He was a good six inches taller than average, so he easily picked out his sister’s shining dark hair and those of their brothers flanking her like a royal guard detail.

Someone pressed a glass into his hand, and he clasped it, waiting for his family to battle their way through the crowd.

As soon as Ellory spotted him, her face lit up with a big smile. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He patted her back and accepted her smoothing a hand down his uniform jacket, fussing over him before stepping back and wiping away a tear.

He greeted his brothers next. When their parents started popping out kids like rabbits, they decided that they should be named in alphabetical order. So Archer greeted Bram, Cross and Dray after his sister Ellory.

It had been a long time since he’d seen his brothers, and he could feel them assessing him. Thankfully, they didn’t discuss what brought him to this place, only urged him to the buffet and started filling their plates with chicken.

While his family talked and laughed like it was a family dinner, Archer excused himself and drifted to the windows. He didn’t belong here with them.

The sound faded to background noise, and he lost himself in the view. Out there, there was only the mountain and sky.

“Archer.”

He turned to see the founder of the therapy program, Oaks Malone. He stuck out a hand, and Archer clasped it, callus on callus, and met Oaks’s gaze.

The man offered him a crooked grin. “You did it. Top of the class.”

He shook his hand, firm and brief. “That was the goal.”

Being the best had always been his goal. Not just passing. Not just finishing. Winning. Because anything less meant weakness, and nothing about Archer was weak.

“You earned it.” Oaks clapped him on the shoulder. “Time to bask in the glory.”

That brought a quirk to Archer’s lips. Convincing his therapist to release him to enter the training program as part of his recovery had been the best decision he’d ever made. Of course, some people doubted that he could do it, but Archer wasn’t broken.

He hadn’t been tortured, not in the way people expected. No fingernails ripped out. No waterboarding. Just isolation. Neglect. Time stretching thin until it barely existed at all.

Thirteen months of being forgotten.

After only two days in therapy, he knew he didn’t need coddling—he needed to get into those mountains.

When asked if he was fit for the training, his therapist sat back in her chair and given her assessment. “Mentally, he’s solid.”

A few heads turned toward her. One of the group cocked a brow. “Define solid.”

Rhae had leaned back, completely at ease. “My standard is simple.” She nodded toward Archer, then toward the small weight of her young daughter in his arms. “Would I trust him with Navy?”

Archer had looked down. The toddler blinked up at him, completely unconcerned with the weight of the moment. One small hand fisted in his shirt, holding tight.

After that, there was nothing left to discuss. That very day Archer made the move from the therapy lodge to the Black Heart Tactical Training Facility barracks. The training had rebuilt him. Refined him. Given him back the edge he’d lost.

Oaks thumped him on the shoulder, pulling him out of the memory. “We could use someone like you on the Black Heart Security team.”

He blinked, the rest of the reverie fading. “You offering me a job?”

Not only was the Black Heart Ranch a working ranch, it housed the therapy program and a security agency.

“Personal protection officer. You’d be working with the best.” He grinned, because the best meant him. “No pressure. Give it some thought.”

Archer nodded. It was a good offer, the kind of path that most men in his position would take without hesitation.

A shame it wasn’t enough.

As he watched Oaks walk away, Oaks’s brother Denver stepped into his place. The man had an air of danger that was different from Oaks’s, like he already knew how things would play out and was just waiting for everyone else to catch up.

“Great work, man.” He shook Archer’s hand.

“Thanks.”

Denver got straight to the point. “You got a minute?”

“Yeah.”

They moved closer to the windows, the mountains stretched out in front of them. Denver followed his line of sight. “You keep looking out there like you’re already planning your next move.”

“I am.”

“What’d you come up with?”

Archer met his gaze. “Depends on what you wanted to talk about.”

Denver issued a huff. “I might have something for you.”

“What kind of something?”

Denver glanced at Oaks’s retreating back. “Not ranch security.”

A small knot in his chest tightened. “You have my attention.”

“There’s a team. Special operations. Off-grid. I can’t say more.”

Archer didn’t hesitate because he didn’t have any doubts. “That’s what I want.”

Denver studied him for a beat, then nodded once. “Let me make some calls.”

Archer’s gaze drifted back to the mountains and the last light cutting across the peaks in sharp contrasts of gold and shadow.

He didn’t need to hear the rest. He already knew. This was what he’d fought his way back for.

For the first time since he’d been pulled out of that empty, silent place, Archer Carmichael knew exactly where he was headed next.