Chapter 12
TWELVE
Steam still fogged the mirror when the knock hit the bathroom door, three sharp raps that made Archer sling a towel around his hips.
“Occupied.”
Cannon’s voice projected through the wood. “And over capacity.”
Jolie’s jaw dropped and her eyes flew wide.
He sent her a reassuring glance and cracked the door. He’d been in some compromising positions in his military career, but his CO’s expression told him this might be rough.
“A word, Archer.”
He stepped out, careful to keep the door narrowly cracked to conceal Jolie. He closed the door and faced Cannon in nothing but a towel.
Cannon arched a brow at him in expectation.
“I know it looks bad, but we were trying to be frugal with water.”
“That’s what you’re going with?” He sent a pointed look at the towel swathing his hips. “Meet me in my office in three minutes and be presentable.”
“Yes, sir.”
As soon as Cannon turned, he slipped back into the bathroom. Jolie was still frozen and wide-eyed. “You’re in trouble.”
“I don’t think so, but I gotta go.”
“I heard.” She stamped a kiss on his lips and gave him a nudge toward the door. “Go!”
He rushed through dressing in jeans and a T-shirt, shoving his feet into boots. Running his fingers through his damp hair was the best he could do for military polish.
When he walked into the office, Cannon looked up. “You’re glowing.”
He stifled a groan and slanted a look at Rome and Younger already seated there. “First Rome, now you.”
Cannon pointed to the chair in front of his desk, and Archer took it without further comment.
Once they faced each other across the heavy oak desk, Cannon got straight to the point. “We need to talk about Cipher.”
He rolled with the topic switch but mention of the terrorist sent a spike of dread through his midsection…and a faint twinge around his ankle where he’d been chained to the chair.
“What do you want to know?” His voice held a gritty edge.
“Anything you heard while captive. Any scraps of intel about weapons, in particular.”
He straightened. “You got info on those lot numbers?”
He gave a solemn nod. “The numbers match artillery originally assigned to Echo team. All the shells, bombs and shrapnel we’ve collected—every single one—is related to this theft.”
Silence settled between them.
Cannon braced both hands on the desk and leaned forward, shoulders hunched. “I told you that after Echo went down in the helo crash, I was on a team sent to clear the base.”
He nodded.
“You all know we were supposed to catalog equipment, secure files, box up personal effects. Most of these guys were friends. Some better than brothers.” He stared down at the wood top before continuing.
“The place felt wrong the second we stepped inside, and we knew what we’d find even before we opened the armory. ”
“It was bare,” Archer filled in the blank with information they already knew.
He nodded again. “Not ransacked—cleared out efficiently. The shelves all empty. Someone took their time.”
“And you think Cipher did it, or at least profited from whoever did.”
“Fits his playbook,” Rome said. “High-value targets. Stolen supply.”
“Or someone learned from him,” Younger added.
Cannon shook his head. “We’re connecting dots that aren’t confirmed. Right now, it’s all speculation.”
“Why move it now?” Archer asked.
“Because someone was patient enough to wait until now.”
“Or smart enough to hide it until it was the right time.”
Their gazes met. That fit Cipher’s profile too well. The terrorist knew when to strike to cause the most damage.
Cannon pushed out a breath. “Did you hear anything about arms deals while you were undercover? Any chatter at all? Smuggling routes, broker names?”
Archer shook his head slowly. “I heard talk, but mostly names of people he wanted to leverage. Men he knew he could turn or wanted turned. He tried to put the squeeze on me…” Again, he could feel the phantom pain of a chain cutting into his leg.
“I was afraid my disappearance would look like I’d turned. ”
Part of the reason the scar on his ankle was so prominent was because he’d caused it—to make damn sure he could prove he was held against his will if the question ever arose.
Cannon listened without interrupting.
“They knew exactly what I was worth. I had all the clearances Cipher loved to take advantage of. The training and the contacts. He thought if he could break me, I’d be an asset.” He met Cannon’s steady stare. “And he came close enough to scare me.”
Cannon exhaled slowly. “Hell.”
Silence fell between them again. The sound of someone in the gym racking weights was the only noise in the office.
Cannon bobbed his head as if he’d gained all he needed to know.
“Archer, it’s time.”
He stilled. This was about Jolie.
“Is this because of the shower?”
He pushed out a breath through his nose. “No. The shower makes me think it’s past time. We have to get her back to her world. Because now you’ve got something to lose.”
The truth was a blade jabbing between his ribs.
He’d survived torture, captivity and a man who’d tried to break him.
But the order to let her go was the first command he wasn’t sure he could obey.
* * * * *
The energy on the base had changed overnight.
The place usually ran on rough humor and constant motion—boots in the halls, doors banging open, voices echoing from room to room. Today the humor was gone. Men moved fast, spoke in low, clipped tones and shut doors behind them.
She couldn’t shake the feeling the team had gotten a midnight call with bad news—and she wasn’t included.
She also couldn’t ignore how scarce Archer had made himself since Cannon caught them together in the shower.
Had he been pulled into a crisis, or was he choosing to put distance between them?
He’d passed her once outside the common area, brushed his hand over hers and leaned in to whisper he’d find her later.
Later had come and gone.
So she sat in her room, leafing through the old magazines, skimming outdated fashion spreads and an article on winter skincare she didn’t give a damn about. Every time footsteps grew louder, she looked up, waiting for Archer’s big body to fill the doorway.
That never happened.
She lost track of time, but when she caught herself organizing the magazines in chronological order, she’d had enough. She left her room and went looking for him.
The gym sat at the far end of the base, and the scent of the rubber flooring and sweat hit her as she approached. She stepped toward the opening and stopped.
Archer sat alone on the floor near the mirrored wall, back straight, forearms resting on his thighs and his eyes closed. The reflection of his expression almost made her look away—it was more intense, focused inward in a way she’d never seen on him or anyone else.
Even in stillness, power radiated off the man like a storm locked behind gates.
Not wanting to interrupt his private meditation, she inched back.
And backed into a solid chest. A puff of surprise burst from her, and strong hands steadied her by the shoulders.
She looked up at Rome. Without a word, she latched on to his arm and dragged him away from the gym into a storage closet.
She spun to face him. “Did I do something wrong?”
Rome blinked.
When he didn’t respond quick enough for her, she blurted out, “Everyone is acting weird. Archer is acting weird.”
Rome studied her for a long second. “You know there’s only so much I can tell you.”
She wrapped her arms around herself as the chill of the base penetrated the thick sweater she wore. “Can you tell me if the world outside was blown to smithereens? Because I can’t get out and I can’t see out, and I’m losing my shit!”
“The world is intact. Your family is safe.”
“Then why is everyone acting strange? There was some kind of meeting earlier. You all looked like you were planning to singlehandedly invade an entire continent. I know whatever happened in that room affected Archer.”
She didn’t know why she was confiding in Rome. He was a complete stranger to her—she didn’t even know his full name. But who else was willing to listen to her right now? Maybe it was the fact she picked up a big brother vibe from him.
His gaze grew even sharper. “You notice more than people think.”
“I’m a woman. Our survival is based on context clues and body language.”
“Fair enough.” A reluctant smile touched the corner of his lips and vanished just as quickly as it appeared. “We’re investigating some events. That’s all I can give you.”
It was not all he could give her—but it was all he was willing to. He wasn’t going to spell out what happened in that war room to send Archer into isolation. But pressuring Rome would get her nowhere.
“Good news is you’re going home tonight.”
The words should have thrilled her. Instead her stomach plummeted with a new heaviness.
“Or maybe not good news for some—” Rome broke off as if he’d said too much.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”
The silence stretched on until she wanted to shake him. “Is this about Archer?”
He gave a single shake of his head.
“Rome.” His name dropped from her lips with an edge of warning that her siblings never could hide from. But he remained silent.
“Rome, I swear to God if you don’t tell me what’s going on—”
“He has feelings.”
For a moment she forgot every word in the English language and a few foreign cuss words picked up on the Chicago streets too.
“Archer?” she managed at last.
“No, the mailman,” he deadpanned.
She felt her cheeks redden. “You’re serious.”
“I regretfully am.”
“And you’re trying to protect him from me.” She gulped a lump forming in her throat that was the only thing holding back a flood of emotions…of joy.
“Look, it’s nothing against you. You seem great. But he’s the new guy on the team.”
“You’re saying you’re just looking out for him?”
“Yeah, I am. I lost an FNG once—”
“FNG?”
“Fucking New Guy,” he informed her. “He got distracted on an op when a woman started flirting. It was a trap—and it got him killed.”
A shivery breath left her. “Was he from this team?”
“No. My last. But I won’t let that happen again.”
She gripped a shelf to keep from falling over. Her mind felt snarled with too many threads to follow, and there was only one straight line.
To Archer.
For her, there was no other path.
Rome watched her without speaking. She stared at his broad chest covered in a black T-shirt that seemed to be the team’s everyday uniform.
When she glanced up to meet his stare, words perched on her dry lips. “Does this happen often? A woman wanders in and…”
“The base is pretty quiet. There’s an occasional straggler. Ghost hunters. Extreme snowboarders. YouTubers who are filming sites that have fallen into ruin. And the periodic tourist rescue from a tower in a blizzard.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand most of that. All those people come here?”
From his expression she knew he wouldn’t tell her more. She slanted a look in the direction of the gym where Archer was meditating.
“And is it weird for SEALs to have feelings for these women rescued from towers in blizzards?”
He sobered. “It’s not the norm.”
A pulse of fierce tenderness moved through her so suddenly it hurt. “I wish you hadn’t told me this. I’m leaving.”
Suddenly a tear splashed onto her forearm banded tightly across her chest.
“I’m sorry, Jolie.” Rome’s voice dipped low with what sounded like genuine remorse. He took a step toward the hall.
“Thank you for telling me the truth.”
He glanced back. “Use it wisely.”
When he walked out, leaving her standing alone in a storage closet filled with tents and sleeping bags rated for extreme cold, a ball of ice formed in her stomach.
She was going home.
That was the goal from the moment she arrived. Her real life waited right where she’d left it.
So why did it feel like a loss?
She swiped angrily at the wet tracks on her cheeks. She refused to spend her last hours here crying in a room full of camping equipment.
Archer had feelings…and she did too.
What they didn’t have was more time.
At that moment, he was sitting on the gym floor meditating over something. Maybe his captivity. Maybe her. Maybe nothing to do with her at all.
He could sit there and sort through it as long as he wanted.
The second he stepped into her path again, she had plans of her own.