Page 25

Archer

“Starboard aft. T-minus two minutes.” Midas is in my ear. A healthy crowd has grown around Carl’s body. I stand, helping Mia up with me. Conrad is nowhere to be seen. Fucking coward.

“We need to get to the other side of the yacht,” I tell her quietly. “Do you think you can walk?” She’s shaking like an arctic breeze has run through her. And when I take her hand in mine, it’s like ice.

“Ye-yes, I can walk.”

It’s not difficult to slip between the people gathering around. Several more men in black suits with walkie talkies push their way through in the opposite direction we’re going. They look like mall cops. I don’t want to stick around to see what they’ll do, though; it’s not in our interest to draw any more attention to ourselves. We need to get off this boat.

“Someone’s been shot—out there on the deck,” I say to a woman who’s stopped us, begging for information. She gasps dramatically, covering her mouth.

Another set of doors leads us to the starboard side. I can see the boat approaching. Mia’s keeping up with me, but if I didn’t have her in a tight grip, leading the way, there’s no doubt she’d be a statue. By the time we make it to the swimming platform, she stumbles.

I turn, scooping her in my arms. Midas pulls the boat up parallel to us, and I hand Mia off to Phantom who’s waiting. I hop the railing and we take off, leaving the yacht in our wake.

Sweat is dripping down the back of my neck, and I can feel the moisture seeping into my shirt under my arms. Another second in this jacket will be one too many. I place it around Mia’s shoulders, then rip the constricting buttons at my throat. The breeze feels fucking amazing on my skin.

“What the fuck happened back there?” Legion asks. He offers Mia his seat, taking hold of the sunshade’s metal frame with his good arm.

I paraphrase the turn of events for the team. They’re not surprised.

I go to sit by Mia. Her knees are pressed together, her hands sitting atop her thighs. There’s an emptiness to her stare that I recognize all too well. She’s still cold. With the night still warm, none of the guys have extra layers on.

“Here,” Blaze says, wrapping a beach towel he’s found in a storage bin under his seat around Mia’s legs.

“And her father?” Midas asks me.

“He betrayed me.” Mia speaks for the first time and every word is hollow. Simple. Heartbreaking. I suck in a breath because it’s painful to hear the disbelief in her voice. It tightens around my heart and squeezes with the strength of a vice. “He used me…the entire time. All he cared about was saving himself. How weak can someone be ?” she emphasizes, her voice rising an octave.

Phantom catches my eye. There’s an obvious bulge to his jaw and I know the guy well enough to recognize when he’s grinding his molars. He’s as pissed as I am. All the guys are. They’ve all come to love Mia, to welcome her into the fold. Hell, they didn’t come to love her, they were smitten with her from the beginning. And I’m the one who fell head over fucking heels.

Mia doesn’t stop. “And I killed a man. I’ve taken someone’s life. What gives me the right to do that?”

I take her hands in mine, giving them a gentle tug. “Mia, look at me. You had every right. It was self-defense.” I shake her hands now, hoping to convey just how serious I am. Having blood on your hands is not an easy pill to swallow, even if you are protecting yourself in the process. It can change a person. Everyday life might continue with laughs, jobs, family gatherings…but the knowledge remains. It’s something Mia will live with the rest of her life, and I wish I could take it from her.

She shakes her head in understanding. “I know, but what if…” she trails off like she doesn’t know if she should say her next thought. “What if…I’m not as sorry as I should feel? He was in on the entire thing with my dad. He attempted to murder me. He attempted to kill you too, Dillon. Am I an asshole for not having any remorse? And how come I’m not crying? Carl is dead because of me, and my dad is dead to me. I feel like I’ve gained and lost so much simultaneously in just a few hours.”

“It’s pretty damn normal to not know how to feel,” Blaze says reassuringly. “If you felt a hundred percent certain with your actions, or if you didn’t give a shit about what you’d done, I might question whether or not you moonlight as an assassin.” He’s not trying to lighten the mood—the kid is as serious as I’ve ever seen him—but it brings the faintest of smiles to Mia’s face. And I’m grateful for it. Because the tears will undoubtedly come later.

“The only thing I moonlight as is a bookworm,” she mumbles.

I scoff. Because I want to help thaw her from the trauma. “I don’t know about that. Anymore, at least. I’ve seen you do more than lift a book or scroll an online article in the last week.”

Midas picks up on my attempt. “Never seen a braver person dive into a mission like you did, Mia.”

“Or someone as fearless as you accept jumping out of a helo,” Blaze says, chewing his bubblegum.

“And I never would have thought to connect the geospatial tags like you did.” It takes effort, but Legion uses his bad arm to place a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it with reassurance.

Phantom smiles. “Not sure I’ve met anyone smarter than you, Mia.”

It’s slow, but color begins to return to her face. It’s splotchy in places, but it’s coming back. “You don’t have to bolster me up,” she says shyly.

Blaze exhales sharply. “We’re not. It’s the truth.”

“Surely, a woman of your academic background can recognize fact from fiction?” I tease. At that, she raises a brow at me. And it’s a promising sign that the last bit of shock is receding. Her eyes no longer have a blankness to them.

“I’m getting better at it,” she says modestly. “But you know what this academic woman would like?” We all wait on baited breath as she looks from each of us. “She’d like to go home.”

Midas turns to wink at her. “On our way.”

Mia

Everything is done. In one short week, my life has been altered beyond anything I could have anticipated. I’ve experienced every emotion that exists from fear, to self-doubt, to excitement and back to fear. I’ve been pushed to both my physical and mental limits. I’ve made history. And I’ve lost my father in the process of it all.

I don’t even remember the flight back to New York. I slept the entire way, even through a refueling stop in Portugal, I’ve been told. Dillon never left my side according to Blaze. And now, as I climb the steps to my brownstone, I can’t help but wonder what happens from here.

There isn’t time to think much on it because the door flies open and Ashlee crushes me in a hug that could rival the pressure from a constricting snake. But it’s wonderful. And familiar and I find myself laughing into her crazy, curly hair at her shoulder.

“You’re home,” she says with the excitement of a lottery winner. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you.”

“Same.” It’s all I can manage to articulate. A heavy lump in my throat threatens a deluge of tears. She’s here, holding me so fiercely, because I mean something to her. There’s worry behind the strangulation. There’s relief, and best of all, pure love.

“Hey Cuz,” Midas says, taking her in a sidearm hug. “Thank you for prepping this homecoming for Mia.”

“Shut up. It’s nothing,” she snorts.

“It is, and on short notice.”

“I’m just glad you called when you did. It wasn’t easy for me to take off work.”

I pull back from her and notice that the house smells divine and she has an assortment of dishes laid out on the dining room table. Barely realizing that it’s close to six in the evening, my stomach grumbles.

“Ho-ly shit, that smells good.” Blaze has already taken a seat at the table.

Ashlee doesn’t miss a beat. “Settle down, you glutton. There’s plenty to go around.” Blaze has the decency to blush. I laugh, realizing that Ashlee might match his energy. She might actually be more extreme.

Then, she points to the powder room. “Boys. Go wash your hands.” She pulls me in for another hug, using the opportunity to be discreet. Her voice still carries, though. “I want to know everything about you and Dillon,” she says in a sing-song voice.

“Someone say my name?” Dillon emerges, looking as handsome as ever. His dirty blond hair is disheveled on top like he’s run a hand through it a few times. He must have showered on the plane because the black suit is no more. In fact, he’s wearing his leather boots, jeans and casual button down…the same as he wore the first night the team showed up.

“Ashlee was just asking what you’d like to drink,” I say, giving her a small pinch in the ribs. “What all of you would like, actually.”

“What…two seconds after being home, you start ordering me around like a short order cook?” Ashlee asks, incredulously. Her attempt at seriousness is waning, and she and I burst out laughing together. It feels really good.

“But for real, what is there to drink?” Blaze asks. “Got any beer?”

“Check the fridge, boo. Grab some for everyone else while you’re at it.” Ashlee has singlehandedly passed off her task. She pours the two of us a glass of wine without any sympathy toward Blaze.

After everyone has sufficient beverages, we sit down to eat. Like the uncouth host she is, Ashlee starts off the conversation with, “So. What’s a girl gotta do to get some information around here? All I know is that I expertly packed some clay, Mia got separated in a crowd…in Spain I think?…someone has been tailing me since the middle of last week—”

“—How do you know?” Dillon asks. I’d forgotten he’d called in a favor with his friend to keep an eye on Ash after the threat from the kidnappers.

“Half my family is military. You think I can’t recognize their stance or posture amongst a sea of civilians?” She raises her wine glass toward him, then winks.

Dillon just blinks. “You’re welcome…?”

“Thanks,” she says without skipping a beat. “Oh! Besides all the aforementioned things, Mia, you caught feelings while you were away, right?”

My jaw stops mid-chew. Heat creeps up my neck, not because what she says is true, but because everyone is looking at me.

Before I can swallow, Dillon chimes in. “She wasn’t the only one.” His hand comes to rest on my thigh, giving it a tender squeeze.

“Well, dip me in shit, if that isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” Ashlee is beside herself, resting her chin in her linked fingers like she’s watching a movie where the couple has just kissed for the first time.

I hear Blaze lean over to Legion and whisper, “ That’s hot?”

Legion shrugs. “To each their own.”

“Blaze was bitten by a snake in the crotch,” I blurt. Anything to change the subject. Because the way Dillon and I feel about each other is something that he and I can discuss later. Preferably without an audience.

“I want to hear about that, but ,” Ashlee says dramatically, “I want to see the cuff. Where is it?”

I brace myself on the edge of the table, getting up. When I return, I open the case.

“Woah. That’s very gold ,” she says in awe. Then, she takes it out and places it on her wrist. “Uh, this would not be comfortable to wear. It’s heavy as fuck.” Despite the weight, she waves her wrist and arm around like she’s modelling it on QVC.

The conversation morphs from there. Everyone augments this unofficial debrief of the past six days with their own details, bits and pieces coming back to each of us. I’m thankful that none of the guys elaborate on how last night ended. I’ll tell Ashlee the details when I am ready.

With a full stomach, I look around the table. These guys have become a part of my life. Maybe it’s because of the depth of the situation—they say trauma links people. There’s unending teasing, disagreements, and tense times. But at the end of the day, they showed me an unwavering support. And as the stories continue to pass around the table, I recall each and every one. Every location. Every clue that had to be solved. Every lighthearted moment that’s foiled with the perilous ones. The one glaringly obvious thing is, I couldn’t have done it alone. Maybe I became a part of their team, or they mine. Either way, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to thank them enough.

“You okay?” Dillon asks.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m good,” I say. I really am, at least in this moment, but I don’t sell it well enough, evidently.

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” he asks.

I look around the table and Ashlee has each guy fully engaged in conversation. She and Midas have moved on to family anecdotes about growing up. It’s a great time to slip away.

“It’s kind of weird sitting up here,” I tell Dillon when we take a seat in the furniture on the rooftop. “The last time I was here, I got the call from my dad.” I shiver, both because of the memory, and because it’s a tad colder than it had been a week ago.

He offers me an understanding smile. There’s a lot I want to say to him, and I open my mouth. We both speak at the same time.

“Go ahead,” he says with a soft smile.

“Uh-uh, you first.”

Dillon takes a second to look across the night skyline. He blows out a breath. “Look, I don’t know what happens from here. You and I live on opposite sides of the country. We shared an intense week, and maybe that’s all this is—” I open my mouth to protest, but his eyes cut to mine, pleading for me to let him finish. I do. “—It’s easy to feel things for one another in life and death situations. Everything’s heightened. Perspectives change. Priorities shift.”

He pauses, and the seed of doubt takes root in my stomach. I say, “It sounds like you’ve experienced these things…before, then?” The sound of traffic hopefully masks the disappoint in my question.

“No.” He’s vehement. “That’s just it…those things…I can pinpoint them now because I’ve felt them. I feel them. Everything that we went through was beyond any mission or job I’ve ever had. You were the only thing that mattered.” My doubt is replaced with a warmth that spreads to my toes. “So, again, I’m not sure where we go from here, but all I know is I’m not willing to give you up. I don’t want to say goodbye just because the job is over.”

I turn until our knees are touching. “I’m not willing to say goodbye either. We have options. We can do long distance,” I say, already with the inkling that it will not be enough. Maybe if we lived two cities away, but not a dozen states.

Dillon pulls my hands in his. They’re warm and comforting. “I know myself well enough to realize my selfish tendencies. And long distance will just scratch an itch. How am I supposed to get my fill of your jasmine perfume over a screen?”

I sigh, because I agree with him. But beyond that, what do we do? “I get it. But I think for right now, at least for the immediate future, we don’t have a choice. You have a job to get back to, and so do I. It’s not in our nature to up and walk away from our livelihoods. And I could never ask you to leave the team for me.” I hope I’m making sense and not sounding like I don’t want him in my everyday life. He’s been by my side without fail for the past six days. Adjusting to the nine-to-five will take time. It seems so sudden.

He leans over and kisses my head. “Why do you have to be so logical?” Dillon drops his head until we’re resting our foreheads together.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“Would you consider visiting me in Wyoming? I know it’s not the Big Apple, but…”

“Well, I’m well-versed in travelling now, so yeah. Anything to see you.” I place my lips to his.

He kisses me back hard. Everything he’s just bared to me is behind the pressure of his lips. It’s a promise and goodbye-for-now all in one.

And I already miss him before he’s left.