I was on perimeter guard the night after their arrival. Archer silently popped up as I stood watch. It was boring and I was young, dumb, and cocky. We’d gotten word that enemy movement was expected. Silence was thick. Nothing had happened and I got complacent.
Not gonna lie, I almost shot him. Gun pointing at his face, he had done nothing more than chuckle. I can’t believe he didn’t beat the shit out of me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I’d asked him, heart hammering at my ribcage as I lowered my weapon.
“If I was the enemy, you’d be dead. You trying to die?” he’d quietly asked.
“No,” I’d belligerently snapped back.
“Coulda fooled me,” he calmly retorted.
I’d glared at him and returned my attention to where it was supposed to be—though definitely more alert. Hell, no, I didn’t want to fucking die.
He’d stayed, and honestly, I was a little grateful for the company, though he didn’t say much.
“You’re not here for a career,” he’d finally observed without looking at me.
“No,” I’d truthfully answered.
“You’re here because you don’t know how to stop moving.”
I’d almost laughed. This fucker didn’t know me. Who was he to say why I was there?
We’d taken fire together an hour later. Fast. Close. For a second, I froze. I’m pretty sure I felt a round pass by me. He shouted at me and I quickly snapped out of it. When it was over, Archer had dragged me behind cover without once asking who I was or why the name on my uniform didn’t match my accent.
“You’re not very good at this military stuff,” he’d joked afterward as we both leaned against a dusty, crumbling wall. We were both breathing a little heavy. My head was spinning because everything was catching up to me.
“No.” Though he was teasing, there was no point in lying. He was spot-on with his assessment.
He’d nodded once. “Doesn’t matter, really. You’re here and that’s that—no going back now. Keep your fucking head on swivel and don’t leave your team hanging. With a little luck, you’ll make it home. Don’t re-enlist.”
I’d snorted. “Didn’t plan to.”
He’d grinned. It was one of the few times I ever saw that bastard smile.
That was the beginning.
We’d kept in touch after that. I got out. He would randomly pop up at my place. I’d never asked how he knew where I lived or how long he’d be there. He would usually leave in the middle of the night without a goodbye and as quietly as he’d come.
Years later, when I needed a man I could trust with my life—and with hers—I’d made one call.
Archer hadn’t asked for explanations. He never did.
The jet touched down before dawn.
I didn’t go to my apartment—I went to the safe house.
As I arrived at the home I owned under a dummy corporation in City Island, it seemed like the snow fell heavier there, muting the city. It was as if it wrapped it in a hush that made it seem like the entire world held its breath.
After punching in the code, I entered without announcing myself. Archer sat in the shadows of the living room, weapon resting in his lap.
“You always did have a death wish. You could’ve called or texted. She’s asleep,” he informed me. “The inner room, like you wanted. No windows.”
I’d specifically designed that room. It had an escape door under the rug that led to the basement, where I had a tunnel that ran under the house behind me and the street, then came out in a small back room of the floral shop. It was a convenient leftover from the Prohibition days.
I smirked. “You knew I was there. I knew you’d be watching the cameras like a hawk. Any issues?”
He chuckled as he glanced at the monitors. “Not tonight.”
