The tension fused around Archer’s spine released a fraction, giving him a chance to fill his lungs fuller. Rome hauled one smuggler to his knees, and Archer did the same.
Once they had the captives along with the dead bomb loaded into the chopper to be hauled to the closest town to hand off to authorities, the team strapped in again. The noise of the rotors drowned out all sound as they lifted into the air.
“Good call, Archer.”
He looked up at Cannon and allowed himself a small nod.
He replayed the op in his head just like he did every one since the day he took over the Cipher case, examining every step forward and backward until he found the one place that it could have gone wrong. Then he picked it apart so he could learn how to do it better next time.
And right in the middle of it all, Jolie slipped back in.
What was it about the woman that was getting under his skin? He’d seen other women since he was freed. Pretty ones too. But none of them made him look twice let alone come to mind on a mission.
Something about that moment when he gave her the books stirred him up.
Maybe it had to do with the look in her eyes. Or the memory of her holding on to him on the snowmobile, her arms locked around him with total trust.
Or her eyes… Those big baby browns flecked with gold and fringed by thick lashes invaded his thoughts more than they should. Her eyes were deep chocolate, layered with the kind of look he recognized. Her steady gaze wasn’t just filled with unasked questions but with a wariness that only came from life experience.
He shifted in his seat and adjusted his gloves to force his focus back to something physical.
It didn’t help because her hair had caught his attention too.
On the tower, it had been flattened by snow, nearly black in the storm. Later, it had looked lighter and softer, falling over hershoulders in a way that made him notice before he could stop himself.
And the red sweater. Hell. He bit back a groan before comms picked it up and every man knew what was on his mind.
He dragged a breath through his nose and forced his attention to the world beyond the chopper.
Didn’t work, because he started thinking about those tight-fitting jeans—
He shut that down hard. Rome was right—there was no future.
Archer was a dead man walking now. He had no identity beyond the Blackout team and whatever crazy nickname his teammates eventually saddled him with.
The moment he walked into base, he shed his gear, placed it in his locker and immediately did the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do but couldn’t make himself stop.
He went to find Jolie.
He moved through the corridors like a man with a mission, scanning each space as he went. Common area—empty. Dining room—empty.
He stopped in her open doorway.
Empty.
Did she find a way out?
He whirled toward his own cracked door. Through the sliver, he saw his bed…
And Jolie’s leg, clad in those jeans that hugged her ass in such a tormentingly sexy way.
Pulse drumming in his ears, he extended his and pressed the door open farther.
She was asleep.
On his bed.
The romance book he’d gotten her lay open beside her, and one hand rested near it like the nap had sneaked up on her. Her hair spread across the blanket.
