She tried to think of what qualified as fun when her childhood had been ripped away too soon and she’d spent her adult life dealing with work, home, bills and siblings. The answer came easier than she expected.
“I like taking pictures.”
“And that’s why we took your camera.”
Her shoulders slumped and a lump of frustration clogged her throat.
He tapped the desk with a fingertip. “I have an idea that might interest you. Come with me.” He stood, and she followed him out of the office.
The walls of the corridor were concrete as well. Not stacked blocks but smooth and light gray. Somewhere in the bunker, there had to be a window. She hadn’t seen it yet, but daylight found its way in, possibly through skylights, reflecting faintly along one wall like a reminder that the outside still existed.
Cannon had a swagger to his walk, not unlike the man who rescued her. That thought brought to mind that she hadn’t seen Archer since he brought her breakfast.
Carved into the hallway were several closed doors. Cannon stopped at one and pushed it inward to reveal a space filled with books. Shelves lined one wall, books crammed into every available space, both hardcovers and paperbacks, the spines bent from use. Some stacked on a side table.
“This is my room.”
She turned her head and saw a simple double bed tucked against a wall, an afterthought in a space whose real purpose was to house his book collection.
“You’re welcome to read any you’d like.”
Reading wasn’t something she did for fun—she didn’t have time. Curling up with a good book was certainly preferable to planning menus for a strange military team.
She drifted to one of the shelves and began scanning the titles. There were a lot of history books and military memoirs. Some technical manuals and biographies. Three books with maps on the spine. Not a single thing she wanted to curl up with and wait out two weeks of forced captivity.
When she turned to Cannon emptyhanded, he walked over to a wall and pressed a button for an intercom. There was a click and a burst of static before a male voice answered from somewhere on base.
“I need Archer and Rome in my room now.”
“Copy.”
She folded her arms and waited to see what was about to go down. She looked up to see Archer’s big body filling the doorway…and his presence seemed to fill the entire base.
Their gazes locked for three whole beats. Then he dipped his gaze over her body, probably taking in the outfit she’d settled on from the selection he’d given her.
The thick red sweater was too big but cozy enough to be called oversized. And when she’d spotted a pair of what looked to be genuine bellbottom jeans from the seventies, complete with a few denim patches, she’d almost squealed.
The bottoms fit a little tighter than she preferred, hugging her hips and butt, but they were too good not to try on.
Cannon issued a rough noise as he cleared his throat, and Archer’s gaze snapped back to hers.
Another man, presumably Rome, appeared behind him. They stepped into the room, their broad shoulders and cocky attitudes making the space feel overcrowded.
Cannon addressed them. “I have a mission for you. Find girl books.”
Silence.
Both men looked at her like she had sprouted a second head and it had strong opinions. Or morning breath.
Archer shifted his attention to Cannon. “Girl books. What does that mean? Commanding officer,” he added almost as an afterthought.
“Jolie needs something to do. She doesn’t like any of my books. Find her some she likes.”
Jolie closed her eyes for a second, equal parts embarrassed and amused. When she set out for an adventure of a lifetime, she never pictured herself standing here while two men tried to decode female reading preferences like it was enemy intel.
“What kind of books do you like?” Archer asked.
She couldn’t tell them that she wasn’t really a reader. She only had a GED and she’d been too busy slinging Italian food and wine and attending parent-teacher meetings to educate herself through reading.
