Chapter 2
TWO
The only time of day Archer trusted was the hours before dawn, when the world was still and he knew no one was coming for him.
He sat on the floor with his back to the wall—the safest place to be—forearms resting on his thighs. He slowed his breathing, controlling it and his heart rate as SEALs were trained to do.
He hadn’t called this meditation when he was in captivity. It was just the one thing his captor couldn’t take from him—control.
He tracked every sound in the base while he steadied his breathing. Slow inhale. Hold. Slow exhale. Again.
It had kept the panic from getting a foothold and was a way to measure time when hours blurred into nothing. He’d count breaths and align with the rhythm until his pulse stopped tripping. Until his head stayed clear instead of slipping.
This wasn’t about peace. It was about not breaking.
Sound carried differently down here. Boots in the corridor sounded hollow, and a door opening farther off echoed. The quiet hum of systems ran behind the walls of the base that was buried beneath a closed ski resort and hidden in plain sight.
His daily ritual wasn’t sharpening his mind the way it usually did. He was far too aware of the door across the hall from his, and who was behind it.
Jolie Simms.
He listened for her without thinking about it. He’d listened for her all night because he knew what it felt like to wake up somewhere unfamiliar, cut off and surrounded by people who controlled your fate.
Captivity had stripped things down to small details—sound, movement, patterns. And now he defaulted to it without effort. His captor, the terrorist known as Cipher, taught him well how silence could press on a person and drive them to madness.
Archer wouldn’t let that happen to Jolie.
He issued a final breath and opened his eyes. In one fluid motion he pushed to his feet and crossed the room. The kitchen was empty as he put together a tray of food for her and returned to her door, knocking once.
When she opened it, she looked like she’d slept but not rested. There was a tightness around her eyes he recognized as worry. Who could blame her when she didn’t know what came next?
Even worn down, her appearance hit him harder than it should have—a soft, full mouth, steady brown eyes and a kind of quiet strength that didn’t match the situation she was in.
He understood that too.
She flicked her gaze from him to the tray he held.
He shifted it. “Breakfast.”
She arched a brow. “Silver chafing dishes? I don’t know what to think of this place.”
His lips twitched. “Nothing fancy.”
She shook her head, deep brown hair sliding over her shoulders. The color surprised him. When he saw her on that tower, her hair looked almost black but only because it was wet from snow. Now it caught the light, turning warmer, softer—and he had to stop himself from noticing more.
She stepped aside to allow him into her room. He moved past her, aware of the faint brush of air as he slid by her. He walked over to the simple wood desk and set down the tray with a rattle of expensive silver cutlery.
“You’re Archer?” she asked.
He turned. “Yes.”
She nodded. “I didn’t thank you for getting me off that tower, Archer.”
“Just following orders.”
She studied him. The force of her brown eyes could pry up the edges of a lot of weaker men. But not him.
She took a hesitant step forward. “Did you receive an order to bring me breakfast too?”
He picked up the silver cover and showed her the plate underneath. “No. Just figured you’d be feeling a little out of your element and could use some food. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
He moved aside to allow her to inspect the scrambled eggs and toast and he’d added a cup of milk and a bowl of dry cereal to the tray. Not gourmet, but the best he could scrounge in the kitchen. He’d also brought black coffee and two flavors of creamer.
She took it all in. “Okay. I was not expecting this.” She wrapped her hands around the coffee and gave it a dubious sniff.
“It’s not drugged if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her cheeks flamed to a deep pink color that had nothing to do with the heat of the coffee, and for some reason the sight of it smacked him low in the gut—an electric pang that he forced away as soon as he felt it.
“You’re safe here,” he told her after he took a beat to recover.
She peered at him over the cup. “Why should I trust you? I don’t even know who you are or what this place is.”
“We’re the people who keep others safe.”
As that sank in, she drew in a deep breath.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.
“To call my family.”
His lips tightened. “When the weather clears, we’ll get you back where you belong.”
“They’ll be worried.” Her voice took on an edge of panic.
He forced himself not to take a step toward her. He had a lot of jobs here, but it wasn’t to comfort a woman rescued from a storm.
“Your family has been notified that you’re safe. Any other requests?”
Her shoulders slumped as she curled inward. “How long before the roads open? Can’t we travel by snowmobile?”
Her question brought forward the memory of her arms around him—and the constant tremor he’d felt as she held on.
“The storm dumped three more feet on us overnight. It will be a little while before we can get out.” That wasn’t exactly the truth—they were special ops. They could get anywhere and scramble in minutes.
Her eyes widened. “Three feet? Isn’t it early in the season?”
“Not in these mountains. Any other requests before I leave you to your breakfast?”
She glanced down at herself. “Can I wash my clothes?”
Surprise made him arch a brow. “Yes. And I can get you more clothes too.” With a stark nod, he left her room and headed straight for one of the storage rooms, where they kept supplies and anything scrounged from the vacant ski resort above them.
He grabbed a lost-and-found box and a fancy suitcase and returned to her room. When he walked in and set them on the floor, she looked up in surprise, a spoon of cereal halfway to her mouth.
She set down the spoon and jumped up from the desk. “What the…”
He gestured to the items. “Use whatever you want.”
“You just have…boxes of clothes? And a suitcase?”
“Yes.”
“How many women have you kidnapped?”
He snorted. “So far, just you.”
Her eyes flared wide.
“Joking,” he rushed to add.
She bent and picked up a thick wool sweater from the box. “Do women live here?”
“No, but these were laying around.”
She held up the red sweater to herself and then picked up a plaid shirt. As she sifted through the box, he watched. She might be distressed at being stuck here, but she was still a woman and from what he knew about women, they liked clothes.
She held up a shirt that was big enough to fit two men. When she looked at Archer, her eyes lit up. “This would make a perfect sharing shirt.”
He eyed her. “What’s a sharing shirt?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to find out.”
Jolie folded the shirt over her arm like it was already hers and went back to sorting, moving less like a frightened mouse now.
Archer gave her space, but he didn’t leave her alone either.
No one had been there for him—and he wouldn’t let that happen to her.
* * * * *
Jolie hovered in the doorway of an office, one hand curled around the frame as she took in the man behind the desk and tried to decide how cautious she should be.
On one hand, she was in some kind of hidden bunker with armed men who spoke in clipped code and controlled who came and went.
On the other, she knew enough about men and bad situations to believe these ones weren’t lying. They actually seemed to be military, not cult leaders collecting strays in the snow.
When she dropped into bed after her ordeal, she intended to wait until the place grew quiet to go searching for her phone.
But the instant her head hit the pillow, she was out.
She blamed it on an adrenaline drop or thawing out after hours at the top of that tower in a blizzard, but she never got a chance to search for her phone to study a map for her location.
After Archer brought her food, it seemed like the man would never leave her alone long enough to find her way to the one in charge.
Cannon looked up from some paperwork on his desk and leaned back in his chair, eyeing her. His mere size and presence were formidable, but instinct told her that to get what she wanted, she had to face him.
She took a cautious step inside. The concrete walls were lined with wooden bookcases that gave it a cozy industrial look.
There was no other indication this was a military base, not that she knew what they looked like. She didn’t see any credentials on the walls or medals or photos with the president. The lack of any proof these guys were who they said they were…made her believe it.
She faced him. “Sir?”
He arched a brow. “Cannon.”
“Cannon, sir.”
The corner of his mouth moved. “Why are you insisting on calling me sir?”
“You’re clearly the colonel.”
He smirked. “Commanding officer.”
“I’m just trying to be respectful, commanding officer. When can I call my family?”
His rugged, carved features looked like they could terrify the most dangerous enemy on the planet and they didn’t soften when he gave his response. “An hour after never.”
Her eyelids fluttered. “What?”
He didn’t soften it or give any other explanation. In fact, it sounded like the conversation was over.
She knew from raising small kids that if you wanted them to do something, you had to get on their level to negotiate.
She moved farther into the room and took the seat in front of his desk without waiting to be invited.
“I was on an adventure,” she started.
His gaze flicked to her face, dry humor sharpening his eyes in a way that made him look more dangerous and more human at the same time.
“And how did that turn out for you?”
Jolie could appreciate his sarcasm. She’d built her whole personality on the trait that earned her bigger tips in the restaurant, and worked equally well on teachers and doctors too.