Page 10

Archer

Mia had been close to falling asleep down at the beach. Her body was relaxed, her eyelids heavy.

Now? Mia’s as rigid as a board next to me with owl eyes that are unfocused. I give her a reassuring squeeze on her thigh. I make no effort to remove my hand.

In slow motion, she turns to me. “Tho-those guys had guns…” The shock of it is hitting her. Even in the dark I can see she’s gone pale. “…And they were shooting at us.” Her words are robotic and hollow as she wrings her hands together in her lap. I reach for them, wanting to steady her and get the blood flowing to her extremities. She’s like ice in my grasp.

Behind the wheel, Legion seems to sense the gravity of Mia’s reaction, and for once Blaze offers no reply.

We cruise west toward the airport.

If only that skiff wasn’t random. At the time, my only objective was getting Mia to safety. When they started shooting, it was even more paramount. Without a doubt, I’d take a bullet for her. It is part of the job, right?

Blaze’s phone rings and Mia jumps. He places it on speaker. “Go ’head.”

“Is everyone alright? Mia okay?” Midas’s voice comes through steady, if not adrenaline charged.

Blaze tells him we all made it unscathed, then asks about them.

“We’re fine.” Then he confirms what we all want to know. “Three tangos down.”

“ID’s?”

“Local thugs, nothing else,” Midas explains.

I notice headlights coming from behind us and I tell Mia to get down. She shrinks against me, practically lying her head in my lap. I don’t complain, but I draw my weapon.

Legion is paying equal attention to the road ahead and the rear-view mirror.

Midas eases our apprehension when he says, “Half a click behind you guys.”

Besides our two vehicles, there’s no one else on the road. That will change when the rural route turns urban.

I look down at Mia and tell her she can sit up. “I-I think I’d rather stay here for the moment, if that’s okay?”

I’m not going to tell her no, especially when she readjusts herself and does in fact lie her head on my thigh. Legion catches my eye in the mirror, an unreadable look on his stony face.

All I want to do is pull Mia against me, tighter. I want to stroke her hair gently until all the fear leaves her body. And these desires…these feelings I have toward her…are foreign. Protecting someone is instinctual to me. Caring for them? Wanting to ease their worry and keep the bad things in the world away from them… needing to know they feel safe because of me? That’s never happened. Not until Mia.

I holster my gun and do what I feel is the best right now: I place my left hand on her shoulder, rubbing the curve of it with my thumb. It’s not much. Hell, it’s not even close to what I want to do for her, but it’s the best I can offer in this situation. Perhaps there might come a time where the two of us can share a stolen moment again, but for now, I’m content when I hear a faint sigh fall from her lips.

It takes us closer to a half hour with the lack of traffic to get to the tarmac where the private jet is waiting for us. Midas’s pilot is not only top notch, but probably deserves a healthy tip for being on standby twenty-four seven.

“Hey, Mia,” I whisper. “We’re at the airport, it’s time to get up for a bit, okay? You can sleep once we’re loaded.”

“Mmm,” she murmurs, but sits up dutifully. Her hair is tucked behind her ear and there’s a crease on her face from my pants. The sight of it makes me feel possessive, but I tamp it down for now. The sooner we’re airborne, the better.

Only once the lights of Santa Marta are beneath us and we are climbing through the clouds, do I allow myself a second to exhale.

Mia sips on a water bottle and I’m pleased to see that some of her color has returned. She, too, senses the relief of putting miles between us and the fuckers who tried to kill us.

The sat phone rings suddenly at the same time Mia’s cell does. She seems confused. Everyone’s attention turns to her. Midas gets up and stands next to her, his arms crossed. The brothers remain seated along with Phantom, but their expressions are attentive.

“Answer it,” I tell her. “Put it on speaker.” I rush to get my laptop, hoping to trace the call before it ends.

She does as she’s told. Steeling herself, she hits the green button. “Hello?”

The voice that comes through is scrambled. And pissed.

“I thought we made it very clear that no authorities were to be involved, Ms. Perry.”

“Stay on the line,” I mouth to Mia.

She nods, then replies. “I haven’t gone to the authorities. I have a bodyguard…” To her credit, she doesn’t stammer.

My laptop is finally booted up and I begin to try and trace the call.

“We know you have more than one with you. And you can tell them—because I know they’re listening—it was a mistake to bring them along.”

“I want to speak to my dad,” Mia says, changing the subject. Good girl.

“I’m afraid you’ve forfeited that right when your guys killed my men.”

“Let me speak with him!”

Like a cheap horror film, the voice tsk’s at her. “I’ll leave you with a warning this time, Ms. Perry. Oh,” the voice says nonchalantly, “your roommate is so…how do you put it? Vivacious. I’d hate to snuff a flame like hers.”

The line goes dead.

“Fuck!” I swear. Mia flinches. “I couldn’t get a trace on it.” I slam my laptop closed and scrub a hand down my face.

Midas is balling his fists at his sides.

Blaze cracks his knuckles.

Legion’s forearms are tensing.

Phantom is tapping his thigh with his trigger finger.

And Mia is holding back tears. Barely. In a strangled whimper she says, “Why?”

I stare at her, unable to look away from her tortured expression, yet, unable to form words that can soothe her.

“None of this is your fault, Mia.” Midas has taken a seat next to her, imploring her to believe him. Because, he’s right. None of this is her fault. She’s simply a pawn in something bigger.

“But it is my fault!” she says with vehemence. “At first, it’s my dad. How would I be able to forgive myself if something happens to him? And-and,” she stumbles, “and now Ashlee?”

I see the vein in Midas’s forehead grow more pronounced. “They’re trying to gain the upper hand again,” he says. “We took them down a notch, and from the sounds of it, they weren’t expecting it. Their entire gameplan is to threaten and bully you.”

She nods, staring at her hand. She picks at her nail.

“Assholes like this need to feel a sense of control at all times. Like they’re calling all the shots,” Blaze says. “They’re not going to do anything to you anyhow. They need you. Otherwise, they would have the cuff already.”

Phantom pipes up and says, “Also, you haven’t gone against anything they’ve required of you, Mia.”

She’s pulled a piece of skin away from her nailbed and a thin line of blood appears. My fingers itch to grab her hand, stopping her from any more picking. I also want to clean and bandage the scrape on the heel of her hand.

“How do they know about Ashlee?” she asks.

“Like us, they probably have a dossier on you. Which includes close family and friends,” Legion says.

Mia sits straight suddenly, grabbing her phone. “I need to warn her.”

“No,” I say, taking her phone from her. “That’s not a good idea…”

She’s shocked at my gesture. She searches my face for…I don’t know. Understanding? Clarification?

I find myself telling her, “Look, I have a friend in Jersey. I can call in a favor and have him watch Ashlee. Would that make you feel better?”

Over the top of her head, Midas nods his approval.

Mia shakes her head, unwilling to trust herself with speaking.

Blaze leans forward in his seat, resting his forearms on his knees. “Not sure if you’ve realized it yet, Mia, but we’ve grown sort of fond of you. So, you’re sort of stuck with us.”

“He’s right,” Legion says.

“And like you said,” Midas adds, “we’re practically family, right?”

“We’ll all do what we have to keep you safe,” Phantom says seriously.

“Even if that means taking a bullet for you,” I tell her truthfully.

It’s enough to not only placate her secondary panic regarding Ashlee, but our affirmations—truthful as promises—are enough to bring the first hint of a smile to her lips.

“I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you all. Thank you.”

“You’re a strong woman,” I say.

“Don’t let a couple of pricks get ya down,” Blaze winks. “You should finish your water, you’ll feel better. I’ll get you some juice when you’re done. The sugar will be good for you.”

“Okay.”

The tension in the cabin begins to fade and like the beer we left at the beach, our energy starts to fizzle.

It’s been a long day and the flight ahead of us will be just as lengthy.

I want to place my hand on Mia’s hip to pull her into me. When she scoots closer on her own and rests her head on my shoulder, I sink a little further into my seat.

The smell of jasmine fills my senses when she shifts.

Under the circumstances, I can think of no better outcome to the night.

Thankful to have the sixteen-hour flight behind us, we land in Granada without incident. We were all able to get a little sleep. The addition of full meals and showering at forty-one thousand feet helped as well.

The time change will take a second to adjust to, though. We left Colombia close to twenty-two hundred. Local time is oh four hundred.

Midas spent a portion of the flight not only securing us tickets to the Alhambra (no easy feat when every tourist site suggests a minimum of a month before arrival), but also booking three rooms in a luxury hotel within five minutes walking distance of the palace. Given last night’s circumstances and the sparse amenities of the huts, I know he did this solely for Mia.

There’s a lone woman sitting behind the check-in counter when we arrive. The lobby is empty at this time of morning, but she greets us with a smile nonetheless.

“Senor Cruz, I presume?”

“Sí, gracias.” Midas switches to full Spanish to continue checking in, thanking the woman for wonderful accommodations at such short notice. I’m not fluent in the spoken language, but I am in body language. The way the woman is blushing and keeps looking at him over her computer screen is enough to let on that she’s more than happy to help Midas.

She hands over three key cards and we head to the elevators.

The common areas are painted in warm hues of saffron and emerald, and as we pass by the banquet room, high arched windows are the centerpieces to walls that appear to be covered in carved mosaics. Heavy gold light fixtures made to look like old world fire basins hang above the meticulously placed conference chairs. Accents of gold are everywhere, giving the entirety of the space an overwhelming warmth.

Once we reach our floor, I pass my duffle off to Midas. He and I are to share a room with Phantom, while the brothers bunk together and Mia gets her own room.

“I’m going to do a sweep of Mia’s room while you guys get settled,” I say to him. He fights a yawn but nods in understanding.

The soft beeping of the key cards fills the corridor as I tell Mia to stay at the door once we’re inside. She does, depositing her bag on the floor.

The room is spacious, leading into a large open area where a king bed is centered. My Glock is held tight to my chest as I round the small entryway. Nothing to my left but a desk and the door to the bathroom. I drop to my knee and check under the bed. It’s a solid platform. A small sitting area across from the bed reveals nothing. I check behind each curtain. There’s no balcony or other separate seating areas, so I make my way to the bathroom. A free-standing tub is immediately to my right and the glass shower displays only complimentary hotel toiletries.

“Clear,” I say, holstering my gun and coming back into the room. During my sweep of the bathroom, Mia must have come into the living space. “You’re supposed to wait at the door…”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says apologetically. She walks toward me until we’re toe to toe. Her eyes are clear and doe-like.

I look around the space, thinking of Mia staying in here alone. The room is safe. But I can’t help the voice inside my head telling me she’ll be better off if I stay. And what would I tell Midas? Any way I play it, it’d be suspicious.

I’m about to voice my thoughts when her hand comes to the undone button at the top of my shirt. Her fingers are delicate as they toy with the fabric. She brushes the skin under my collar bone and my breath stills. I focus on her hairline, trying to gain an ounce of control.

Then with a single word, she has me looking into her crystalline eyes. “Dillon.” Her fingers never let up with their soft exploration. “Thank you for getting me out of there last night.” I can feel her warm breath against my exposed skin like a summer zephyr. Internally, I groan.

My hand goes to hers, eclipsing her wrist. It’s unbelievably soft under my palm, and so damn tiny. “Welcome.”

She inhales and her hand relaxes in mine. “We should—”

“—Probably call it a night,” I say, hoping my words aren’t harsh or too rushed.

Mia’s head nods ever so slightly and we break apart. The current between us that flares with each touch is dangerous. The longing in her eyes and the blood rushing through my veins belies our words. We shouldn’t. We both know it.

So, she turns to her bag, rummaging through it until she finds her tablet.

And I turn to leave.