Page 1 of Shots Fired

PROLOGUE

October

ARCHER

If I was in deep before, I’m certifiably drowning now.

I shouldn’t be talking to this girl; I can feel the weight of her brother’s eyes as they bore into my head. My conscience is pleading with me to back away now. It knows the truth behind all my smiles, laughter, and stares—I’m obsessed with Darcy Thompson. My addiction to her grows each time I make my excuses to engage her in conversation.

The difference tonight: she doesn’t have a man. Darcy’s newly single with plans to move to the US in the next few months, and that’s … a recipe for disaster.

Every time I speak to an attractive woman, my mission is simple: bed her and get out before she wants more. It wouldn’t matter if she made it clear it was sex with no strings; I’m hightailing it out of the hotel room or conjuring up an excuse as to why I need to leave. I’ve always been armed with an exit strategy, always been in control of my feelings and what we do.

But with Darcy, everything goes out the window. It’s like I’m a virgin again—giddy and unable to control my heart rateor thoughts. The constant swinging between her beauty and brilliance leaves my brain zero time to compute that she’s my center’s baby sister with a big heart that just got broken by her shitty ex, and I’m the worst possible candidate to help fix it.

The reality: I’m in the hottest, deepest water a guy could find himself. Yet the longer I stay here, the more I believe it isn’t so bad after all. I could tread water until I was scalding, and I’d still thank Cupid for the privilege of ten minutes in her company.

This cocktail bar isn’t one we’ve visited often, and the warm, twinkling string lights overhead reflect in her huge blue eyes. She’s like porcelain, a classic British rose, with pink cheeks and honey-blonde hair that stretches down her petite frame. She’s smart too; this girl has brains bigger than the island where she grew up.

It’s not too late to back away.

“I’m thinking I don’t need a big place, especially with the cost of rent around here.” Darcy runs a French-manicured finger around the rim of her empty cocktail glass, wincing at the prices of accommodations in Brooklyn.

“You could always ask your brother to help you out,” I suggest, already knowing she’ll hate everything about that idea.

Darcy is independent and hasn’t made a secret of it.

She scoffs, pushing away her glass, and I immediately raise my arm, asking the bartender for another.

Strange approach to backing away slowly, Archer.

“I’m not owned by any man.”

As she replies, I can sense the conflict in her; she wants to maintain her usually bright persona—or at least the only one she lets the world see. But tonight is different. Shefeelsdifferent.

A seed of anger takes residence in the pit of my gut, threatening to bloom into something more at the thought of her ex-boyfriend—the guy who made her feel less than. I know he’s responsible for the slump in her shoulders.

“Why do I get the feeling that statement was loaded and not really about apartment-hunting?” I ask cautiously, dipping my head down to catch her gaze as she pulls a replenished cosmo toward her and plays with the thin black straw resting on the side of the glass.

She looks up at me then, big irises a little more constricted, stress pulling her smile lower than usual.

“Maybe because it was,” she answers with a small shrug, her dainty shoulder doing things to me. “Ever wonder how the hell you let so much of your time get wasted with the wrong person?” She quickly waves a dismissive hand. “No, I guess you don’t since you have never had a relationship, let alone one where you spent nearly thirty-five percent of your life with the same person.”

I open my mouth to reply, but clamp it shut. She’s right; I haven’t ever had a girlfriend. Not even for a day. The closest I ever got to a commitment was a repeat hookup in Texas, and that was only because I forgot we’d already banged.

Darcy blows into her cheeks. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? Matters of the heart don’t usually make a great cocktail mixer.”

Since I’m standing next to the barstool she’s perched on, I can make this discreet. I shift my body closer, turning to face her before running a light finger down the outside of her hand as it rests on the bar top.

I don’t miss the faint shudder as it passes through her arm or the steady kick of my heart when it beats faster. It’s the first time I’ve ever touched her deliberately, and even though I know I’m sinking to new depths, I can’t find it in me to care.

“Liam,” I say softly. “That’s who you’re talking about, right?”

Almost like she needs a second to gather herself, Darcy quickly takes a sip of her drink, and I track her movements, blinking away when the glass reaches her mouth.

“He’s not worth me giving a second thought to.” Voice stern and determined, she sets the glass back down, flicking her long hair as she does. “He clearly wasn’t thinking about me when he got with someone else behind my back, so why should I allow him into my head?”

This time, I take a sip of my own beer. It’s practically room temperature since I forgot all about it.