Chapter 4 #2
No one breathed deeper than necessary, though a sharp blast of wind could shift the whole unit and possibly blow them off the face of the mountain.
Rivers clipped a wire. Then another.
“Timer wasn’t live but I just killed it. Working the rest.” A few tense minutes later, Rivers rested back on his heels in the snow. “Clear.”
“What kind of idiots transport a bomb through a blizzard on a mountain?” Townie asked the question they were all thinking.
“Ones who have a lot to gain.” Cannon’s voice was grim. Then he made the call for the chopper to meet them at a new set of coordinates.
The tension fused around Archer’s spine released a fraction, giving him a chance to fill his lungs fuller. Rome hauled one smuggler to his knees, and Archer did the same.
Once they had the captives along with the dead bomb loaded into the chopper to be hauled to the closest town to hand off to authorities, the team strapped in again. The noise of the rotors drowned out all sound as they lifted into the air.
“Good call, Archer.”
He looked up at Cannon and allowed himself a small nod.
He replayed the op in his head just like he did every one since the day he took over the Cipher case, examining every step forward and backward until he found the one place that it could have gone wrong. Then he picked it apart so he could learn how to do it better next time.
And right in the middle of it all, Jolie slipped back in.
What was it about the woman that was getting under his skin? He’d seen other women since he was freed. Pretty ones too. But none of them made him look twice let alone come to mind on a mission.
Something about that moment when he gave her the books stirred him up.
Maybe it had to do with the look in her eyes. Or the memory of her holding on to him on the snowmobile, her arms locked around him with total trust.
Or her eyes… Those big baby browns flecked with gold and fringed by thick lashes invaded his thoughts more than they should.
Her eyes were deep chocolate, layered with the kind of look he recognized.
Her steady gaze wasn’t just filled with unasked questions but with a wariness that only came from life experience.
He shifted in his seat and adjusted his gloves to force his focus back to something physical.
It didn’t help because her hair had caught his attention too.
On the tower, it had been flattened by snow, nearly black in the storm. Later, it had looked lighter and softer, falling over her shoulders in a way that made him notice before he could stop himself.
And the red sweater. Hell. He bit back a groan before comms picked it up and every man knew what was on his mind.
He dragged a breath through his nose and forced his attention to the world beyond the chopper.
Didn’t work, because he started thinking about those tight-fitting jeans—
He shut that down hard. Rome was right—there was no future.
Archer was a dead man walking now. He had no identity beyond the Blackout team and whatever crazy nickname his teammates eventually saddled him with.
The moment he walked into base, he shed his gear, placed it in his locker and immediately did the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do but couldn’t make himself stop.
He went to find Jolie.
He moved through the corridors like a man with a mission, scanning each space as he went. Common area—empty. Dining room—empty.
He stopped in her open doorway.
Empty.
Did she find a way out?
He whirled toward his own cracked door. Through the sliver, he saw his bed…
And Jolie’s leg, clad in those jeans that hugged her ass in such a tormentingly sexy way.
Pulse drumming in his ears, he extended his and pressed the door open farther.
She was asleep.
On his bed.
The romance book he’d gotten her lay open beside her, and one hand rested near it like the nap had sneaked up on her. Her hair spread across the blanket.
His fingers twitched, and he curled them into fists to keep from seeing if it felt as soft as it looked.
He took a quiet step into his room without meaning to, but the pull of a sleeping woman in his bed was too much to ignore—too strong to resist.
He didn’t want to wake her, not when she looked like that.
Still, he couldn’t stop himself from moving closer.
* * * * *
Jolie didn’t want to believe the tight feeling in her chest had anything to do with Archer.
She’d felt it when he pulled her off that tower. When he brought her breakfast and when he returned with that romance novel.
The only thing those moments had in common…was him.
He stood in the doorway, dark hair mussed as if he’d just run his fingers through it—or pulled off a helmet. His shirt clung to his broad chest and—
She gasped. “You’re covered in blood!”
She leaped off the bed and crossed the room to him, knowing from experience time was of the essence when it came to any wound.
She reached for the hem of his shirt, but before she could carefully peel the cloth off whatever injury lurked beneath, he lashed his fingers around her wrist.
Snapping her gaze to his, she searched his face for signs of pain. What she spotted in those deep blue eyes was the furthest thing from pain.
It looked almost like…
She shook her head. She was imagining things. Archer was injured and required medical attention. He might even be delirious.
Or under the control of aliens.
She studied the smear of sticky red blood across his shirt and more oozing from his knuckle. A darker blotch spread at his ribs.
She had to help him—now.
She gripped him by the wrist and tugged him out the door. He must be weak since he followed so easily.
She tossed a look at him over her shoulder. “Do you know what year it is?”
“Yes.” Amusement tinged his tone.
“Well, what is it?” Her own was edged with impatience. They rounded a corner and the hallway spilled into the common area, where the entire team was congregated.
All bleeding.
She released Archer’s arm and jabbed a finger at the closest chair. “You—sit.”
His head rocked at her command. Awed expressions fluttered over several of the guys’ faces.
“You. You.” She pointed at two more. “Sit down before you fall down.”
She swung toward a tall man sporting a cut bleeding freely down his face. “That’s gonna need stitches. And it’s close enough to your temple that you might be concussed.”
A cocky grin spread over his face. “I’d like to see the man who could drop me with a little concussion.”
When she looked up and saw no one was sitting like she told them to, she snapped, “Sit!”
Three butts dropped into chairs, leaving only Archer on his feet with a gleam in his eyes and a bad-boy smile lurking at the corner of his hard lips. Jolie faltered at the sight, then steeled her spine.
“Where is the first-aid kit?”
No one spoke.
“How many blows to the head did you all sustain?” She set her fists on her hips and cocked her head at them.
Archer’s gaze traveled over her body in a slick glide that left her skin prickling in places it had no business prickling.
“Uhh…”
“I got it.” A guy with a carved build like an athlete and serious expression took off to find the kit.
When Jolie spun again, she fixed a glare on Archer. “I thought I asked you to sit down.”
A snort escaped from Rome, but he stifled the sound as soon as she whirled toward him.
“If I’m going to take care of all these injuries, I need to see them first. Archer, shirt off.”
She swore his eyes went a little hazy as he reached for the hem, making her worry he might fall over in a dead faint any second. As soon as he pulled his shirt off, someone wolf-whistled.
Jolie took one look at his thickly muscled chest and her nipples began to pucker. Oh god. Now was not the time for her body to remember she was a woman and he was a very hot guy who went still in a way that felt more dangerous than movement.
Down the line, people rolled up a shirt sleeve or pants leg. One kicked off his boot and pulled off his sock, which had the rest of the team complaining of the smell of sweaty feet.
She didn’t blink. “I raised two boys. I know what feet smell like.”
At last, the man returned with the first-aid kit. She reached for it, but he didn’t hand it over.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Rivers. Reid Rivers.”
She looked him over. “You’re injured too, Rivers.”
He grunted. “I’m the team medic.”
She took the box from him and set it down. “Good, then you’ll know where to place yourself in the triage lineup.”
“What makes you qualified?” he asked.
She rummaged through bandages and packages of gauze. “I’m almost a mom.”
The room hushed. She glanced up to see Rivers eyeing her body.
She waved a hand. “I never gave birth. I raised my siblings.”
Rome seemed to have sustained the biggest injuries, and she got to work cleaning out his wounds. As she worked over him, she was aware of the guys talking around her, trading stories of their battle wounds and joking around.
Rivers demanded to take over with Rome when he decided Rome could use a staple or two where the bullet grazed him.
Though she was unshaken the entire time, when she approached Archer her breath came faster at the sight of all that warm flesh covering pure steel.
As she cleaned out the first wound, she had to wet her lips twice because her mouth kept drying out and she tried to ignore the way he tensed under her touch.
“You were shot?”
He issued a low noise in his throat like paper tearing. “Bullet ricocheted off a rock. The shards hit me.”
She paused, meeting his eyes. Which was a big mistake because his deep stare burned into her and left her feeling hot and sweaty.
“Well.” She dabbed the blood again. “It must have been pretty sharp to slice through your clothes.”
“Body armor doesn’t cover that part of my torso.” He didn’t flinch even when she probed a deeper cut. Finally, she bandaged him in several places. Some smaller scratches had already clotted and didn’t require more care.