Chapter 1
ONE
Archer was halfway through checking the straps on his cold-weather harness when his commander’s voice cut across the common room.
“Conference. Now.”
Commanding Officer Jay Cannon’s voice carried the kind of authority that made everyone move. Archer straightened and clipped the last strap into place before following the others down the hall to the war room carved into the heart of the mountain military base.
He’d only been with SEAL Team Blackout Sierra two months, but he’d already learned the rhythm of the place.
By the time Archer stepped into the room, one of the guys already stood at the front of the room against a wall of screens, hand braced on the table and the other tapping at a keyboard.
Cannon stood off to the side, eating an apple like no urgency was required.
One bite. Crunch. Chew.
His attention was fixed on the monitor as the rest of the team filed in around Archer.
Rome dragged out a chair at the end of the table, scraping the legs on the concrete. Henry Younger leaned against the back wall, arms folded over his massive chest gained from a long career in the military.
Then there was O. Archer still didn’t know if O was his real name, a nickname or some joke no one bothered explaining. Nobody seemed eager to clear that up either.
Archer took an open spot around the war room table and looked up at the screen just as O pulled up a live camera feed.
In the image stood a steel observation tower several miles from the hidden base’s perimeter. It was steel-framed and skeletal, designed so a lookout could see smoke from miles out before a fire had time to spread.
Wind drove loose snow across the frame in white clouds. O tapped the keyboard and the camera zoomed in, sharpening on a woman clinging to the upper platform railing with one hand while she stretched the other arm out.
“What’s she holding? A phone?” Rome’s lazy drawl didn’t hold an ounce of concern or excitement.
O zoomed in closer. “A camera.”
Cannon bit into his apple again, chewed and pointed at the screen with it. “What we have here…is a classic case of a tourist overshooting her shot. Literally, her camera shot.”
A low murmur of amusement moved through the room.
Wind struck the tower, sending blasts of snow and rocking the woman hard enough to throw her off the side. One of her boots skidded on the icy metal grating, and she slung the camera around her neck to grab the side support with both hands.
Cannon shook his head. “Going to die taking pictures. I swear to God, these people.”
O tipped his chin toward the monitor. “Must be a social influencer.”
Rome snorted. “Or extreme sports enthusiast getting some photos for her scrapbook.”
Nobody sounded panicked. Nobody lunged for their gear, and Cannon didn’t issue orders. Archer took that in too—that the team had seen enough to know the difference between inconvenience and disaster.
That didn’t stop the cold knot from pulling tight in his gut as the woman fought for footing on the platform.
“She’s going to get herself killed,” he said.
Cannon gave a philosophical nod and took another bite of his apple. “Good thing is if she gets banged up, it’s freezing out there. Snow’ll keep down the swelling.”
A few grins flashed around the room. Archer shifted his gaze from the screen to Cannon, trying to figure out whether that counted as concern in Sierra team language. Probably did.
O switched angles. Another camera picked up the tower from farther away, the spine of it rising out of a ridge where the wind had scoured the rocks to a bare sheen. From that distance the woman looked even smaller. More helpless. More vulnerable.
Cannon swallowed and pointed the apple at Archer this time. “Congratulations. You’re up.”
His body snapped to alertness. “Me?”
“You’re the low man on the totem pole. It will be an easy rescue.”
Though he wasn’t taking out a terroristic threat while rappelling down the sheer face of a mountain, at least he had his first real assignment—even if it was small.
He kept his face neutral, even though satisfaction rushed into his veins. “Copy.”
Rome rocked his chair back on two legs, the corner of his mouth tipping up to meet the scar on his cheek. “Need a minute to ground and meditate before you go out there?”
Younger barked out a laugh. O’s jaw shifted enough it could almost count as amusement.
Archer gave Rome a flat look. “I’ll meditate on the way.”
That earned a few more laughs. Ever since they’d seen him go still before a workout or drill—dropping onto a bench and letting his eyelids droop as he turned inward for a quiet beat—they’d been ribbing him about breathing exercises and grounding techniques.
To them, it looked like he checked out, but they couldn’t be more wrong. He was tuning in.
Cannon flicked the apple core toward the trash, sinking the shot without looking. “Everybody out except Archer.”
There was a chorus of mock disappointment.
“Aw, c’mon, Cannon. Can’t we all listen to the inspirational rescue speech?” Rome’s comment had them all chuckling.
“I got twenty bucks on the woman refusing to come down,” O put in.
“My bet’s on the blizzard closing in before Archer can talk her down.” Younger pushed off the wall and sauntered out the door.
The men filed out, leaving Archer facing his commanding officer.
On the monitors, the camera continued to switch between views of the woman clinging to the tower. But Cannon folded his arms and leaned against the table as if they had all the time in the world to rescue her.
“This is your first solo op with Sierra.”
“I’m aware.”
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Cannon eyed him.
He pushed air through his nostrils. “I’ve trained to get myself out of broken ice and survive twenty-four hours alone in a cave with no equipment while battling hypothermia.
I’ve hauled a full-grown man up a rock face in wind chills of twenty below.
” He pushed to his feet. “Pretty sure I can handle a hundred-thirty-pound woman.”
Cannon’s expression narrowed to a more serious one. “You’ve also got a history the rest of the team doesn’t.”
“A lot of military men are held captive for over a year.”
“Yeah, but they’re called POWs and get medals. You got mountain warfare training and to join Blackout. And you’ve only been here two months.”
Archer held his stare. “If you don’t think I’m ready, why’d you give me the assignment?”
“I’m giving you the choice now.”
And risk more hazing from his teammates? Not a chance.
He squared his shoulders. “No one cares what happened to me before. They only care what I do next. Sir.”
A heartbeat ticked by and a gleam slipped into Cannon’s eyes. Respect? Probably not yet. But maybe he saw a glimmer of what Archer once was. What he was going to become again.
He glanced at the monitor again. The woman was still clinging to the support, hair whipping around her face while the wind tore at her jacket hard enough to flatten her to the frame.
“No big deal. Like rescuing a kitten from a tree with a ladder on a spring day.” Archer took a step toward the door. “Any more orders, sir?”
Cannon’s mouth quirked. “Yeah. Don’t forget the hood.”
He turned. “Hood?”
“Did no one tell you? You have to put a hood on her to enter base. No one can see our location. Social media influencer, tourist, mountain goat—whatever she is, same rule applies. Hood goes on when you get her on the snowmobile. Wear comms—we’ll walk you through it.”
Archer had seen black fabric in his kit, but he didn’t know the use until now.
At that moment, Rome and Younger filed back into the war room. Each had a drink in hand and a bag of freshly popped popcorn in the other.
“We’ll be watching you,” Rome said as he passed Archer on his way to a prime seat for viewing.
“With snacks?”
Rome quirked his lips. “Don’t take it personal. When you live in an isolated base in the mountains, this is quality entertainment.”
Younger lightly bumped his shoulder into Archer’s as he walked by. “Good luck, Sparky.”
Rome paused with a kernel of popcorn halfway to his mouth. “Sparky.” He tossed the kernel into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “The nickname might fly.”
Archer hated this part of belonging to any team—the hazing of the new guy.
“Congrats, Archer,” Cannon called as Archer walked out. “You’re officially a member of Sierra.”
Minutes later, Archer was fully geared up and flying across the snow to the tower. The chatter in his comms crackled.
“How’s it going, Sparky?” Rome. Archer was starting to like the asshole despite everything.
“If I have to hear that name again, you’ll be going over the side of the tower,” he responded.
Younger’s gruff tone filled his ear. “You hear that? He’s bonding.”
“Threats are a healthy first step,” O added.
Rivers, Rorke and Townie all chimed in with their two cents about whether the nickname Sparky was the best fit for him.
“Testing, testing. Archer, if you can hear me, blink twice and think calm thoughts.” The team busted up at Reid Rivers’ reference to Archer meditating.
The controls of the snowmobile hummed under his hands as the tower came into sight. In his ear the guys were testing other nicknames. Among them—Ice Pick and Boy Scout. He tuned the men out.
O’s voice cut over them. “Tower camera has eyes on you, Archer. Wind’s picking up on the west side. She’s moving around more.”
“I see her. Approaching lower ridge. I’ll go in on foot.”
As he cut across the snow, his neck prickled with the sensation of being watched. He forced a breath into his lungs—a reminder that the people watching him were on the right side. That the bubble camera mounted on the tower was backup and the black dome wasn’t a prison warden.
Cannon spoke up. “Congrats. You’re on Candid Camera.”
Rome’s voice crackled over the comms. “What’s that?”
Younger groaned loudly. “I know what it is.”
“Of course you do,” Cannon said. “You’re a month older than me. God, how did I get stuck babysitting a team of infants?”