Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Archer made it back to the base…but not all of him arrived intact.
The corridors felt wrong without her in them. Too quiet. Too narrow.
Too empty of the woman who had somehow filled every space she entered.
Sending her away had been the smart move. It also felt like ripping off his own skin.
Better pain than watching someone use her against him.
He told himself again that leaving her at the motel had been necessary. It also felt like the worst mistake he’d made since getting himself captured by Cipher.
As he entered, O looked up from the laptop. One look at Archer’s face and he turned back to his screen, knowing better than to crowd a man holding himself together by sheer discipline.
He strode straight to the common room and sank into the chair nearest the cold fireplace. On a low stool sat a couple National Geographic magazines that Jolie left there. He twisted his gaze away from them and pressed a fist to his mouth.
The sound of footsteps didn’t register until Rome plopped on the sofa and propped his boots on the coffee table. He didn’t glance at Archer, just pretended to scroll on his phone.
Townie drifted in next with a bag of pretzel rods that he didn’t bother opening. Rorke and Rivers entered more slowly and settled on the fringe of the room, not close to Archer but there.
The scent of fresh coffee preceded Younger into the space, and he set a mug beside Archer without comment. O sprawled at the opposite end of the sofa from Rome, arm stretched on the back of the couch as he took interest in studying the ceiling with as much interest as Rome did his screen.
Cannon came last, leaned against the mantel and said nothing at all.
Though no one spoke or offered apologies about Jolie, Archer felt their presence and drew an odd comfort from it.
He lifted his coffee mug with a small nod of thanks to Younger and stared at the brew. He didn’t drink right away, just held the mug and sat there with the sensation that a vital part of him had been sliced off and was still bleeding in a place he couldn’t reach.
Finally, he brought the mug to his lips and drew a sip into his mouth.
Townie finally broke the silence. “You look worse than Cannon when he got stitched up in Honduras.”
He didn’t respond to one of the many tales he’d heard of ops before he came to Sierra.
Rome slanted a look at him. “He looks like a man who just discovered feelings.”
Townie snorted. “Kiss of death in most Blackout units. Unless you’re Alpha or Charlie. They seem exempt from the rules.”
He set the mug aside and avoided looking at those magazines Jolie left behind.
O tapped a palm on the leather back of the sofa. “We should quarantine him before he starts writing poetry.”
That earned the smallest tug at the corner of Archer’s mouth, but the team noticed immediately.
“There he is.” Rome bobbed his head. “Barely alive but present.”
Archer snorted. “Asshole.”
Townie tossed him a pretzel and Archer caught it on reflex. He bit off a chunk and chewed.
“So,” Rome went on, “how long before you break Blackout code and start sending moony-eyed texts to the civilian?”
Archer dragged a breath in through his nose. “From what I saw with my sister and Ash over at Charlie team, this is the new code.” He slashed a glance at Cannon, but the man was as still as a statue, not adding anything to the discussion or giving anything away.
Rome barked a laugh and waved a hand for Townie to toss him a pretzel. He did, and Rome crunched into it.
Archer washed his down with a sip of coffee. “Besides, I thought you guys like bending rules.” He looked straight at Cannon.
Their CO lifted one brow. “How do you figure?”
Archer didn’t blink. “You’ve launched deployments before orders came through because you guessed they were coming.”
“Knew they were coming. That’s called initiative.”
Rome pointed at Cannon with his pretzel. “He’s got a point, Cannon.”
Cannon’s mouth twitched despite himself. “Difference is my rule-bending is a preemptive strike to save lives.”
Townie leaned back. “The man just got back from captivity and found a woman who makes him feel alive. I’m voting for contact.”
O gave a solemn nod. “Seconded.”
Rome waved his pretzel rod. “Motion passes.”
Cannon said nothing, which in that room counted as permission.
Archer’s chest swelled. Goddamn, brotherhood was going to kill him too.
“Toss me another pretzel,” he said thickly to Townie, and they all took the request as acceptance of everything they offered him.
After the team polished off the entire bag, Archer checked the clock on his phone. Too early to call Jolie without appearing desperate. But when he checked it three minutes later, Townie groaned.
“This is painful to watch.”
“Shut up, Townie.”
“Now it’s adorable.” He flashed a bright grin that made Archer wag his head with reluctant amusement.
Another ten minutes crawled by. Archer made it to seven o’clock before he stood.
Rome saluted him with a forefinger. “Tell her we said hi.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He stepped into the hall to the sound of laughter behind him and dialed while striding to his room.
The phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
No answer.
Ice moved through his chest. This was why needing anyone was dangerous. One unanswered call and he was already coming apart.
This wasn’t a good sign.
Jolie would answer for him. Even if she was in the shower, even if she needed a moment to stop crying first.
She would answer.
He hung up and called again, fighting down the panic rising inside him.
Nothing.
The knot low in his gut tightened.
He rushed back to the common room, and they all looked up from the game they were watching on TV.
“O. I need you.”
O jumped up. “No answer?”
The whole room shifted into awareness.
He gave a rough shake of his head. “She didn’t pick up. There’s no way she got a flight out tonight. Can you help me get in touch with her sister?”
“I can’t put you in touch with her, but I can hack the carrier records and tell you if she called her.” O took off for the computer lab with Archer right on his heels.
While O worked, Archer paced between the computer systems lined up along one entire wall and the huge metal cabinet filled with equipment.
Once in a while, Archer tossed a look at O to see him moving through screen after screen, sifting through all the intel they had access to.
His boots thumped the concrete as he whipped around and paced back.
O’s fingers stilled on the keyboard, and he turned his head to the side. “She placed a group call a few hours ago.”
Archer went cold. “Is her phone out of service now? Why isn’t she picking up?”
O’s expression made him want to bury his fist through the concrete wall.
“No. She wouldn’t just ghost me. We agreed.” She would never ignore Archer after promising to talk—her word was important to her. Jolie kept her word. She followed through. And she wouldn’t let his calls ring out once, let alone several times.
O didn’t respond, just waited for him to come to terms with…
Something he’d never believe. Not after the way Jolie looked at him before he walked out that motel room door.
Before he made up his mind to take action, he was already moving toward the common room. When he stomped in, everyone stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
He swept a glance around the room. “Where’s Cannon?”
“Office.” Rome pushed to the edge of the sofa. “What’s going on?”
“Jolie’s in trouble.”
Rome jumped up. “You think or you know?”
“I know. Here.” He jerked a fist toward his gut, and that got every man on Sierra team on his feet.
He spun and rushed to Cannon’s office. His CO looked up, read his face and slammed his book shut. “What going on?”
“She’s not answering. I have a feeling. I need to go to the motel.”
He gave a stern nod. “O is with you.”
A minute later he and O were in the SUV, snow kicking up under the tires as they tore down the mountain road leading to town. Archer sat in the passenger seat with his phone in one hand and fear and fury building in his chest.
He called her several more times on the way. Still nothing. By the time they hit the motel parking lot, panic had sharpened into a knife of certainty that something was wrong.
He and O marched straight to room twelve and he rapped on the door. Jolie didn’t answer, and no sounds came from within.
He pounded harder.
“No way can she be sleeping,” he muttered. He took a step back, eyeing the door.
“Let’s talk to the front desk before you break down the door, Monk.”
He gave a stiff nod and strode to the office, throwing open the door hard enough to rattle the bell overhead. The motel clerk looked up.
“You’re back,” she said.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
The woman’s faint brows creased. “The girl left.”
Archer went motionless as his heart slammed into his ribs with enough force to stop it if it wasn’t already.
“With who?” O took over.
She frowned. “Another guy. He was wearing black too—I assumed he was with you.”
The walls closed in around them, and Archer’s vision narrowed.
“She didn’t even wait for her food. So I ate it. I wasn’t going to let that grilled cheese go to waste.” She issued a low laugh.
Rage rocketed through Archer, and he reached across the counter toward the woman, ready to shake her, but O gripped his arm hard to restrain him.
“Tell us everything you know!” Archer barked.
The woman’s face paled. “Th-the man was tall and strong, like you. They left in a funny-looking vehicle with big tracks. Smaller than a truck.”
“A Trax?” O said, flashing her a picture he pulled up on his phone.
“That looks right.”
Archer’s fist tightened so hard his knuckles popped. “Did she go willingly?”
“She wasn’t wearing a coat. She seemed cold—was moving her hand weird. Opening it and closing it behind her back to warm up her fingers.”
Archer’s pulse slammed.
“That’s the universal sign for ‘I’m in danger.’”
The woman went paler. “Oh Lord.” She crossed herself.
“We need the key to check her room,” O said.