Page 26 of Sigh of Relief

Mel squeezed his biceps. “When’s the last time you saw Archer?”

He rolled his head on his shoulders, shooting his friend a side-eye. “You’re usually smoother with your segues.”

“I thought it was smooth,” Jax said, tone distracted, flat almost, not the hacker’s usual good-natured snark. Elton observed them more closely. Their mohawk lacked its typical height and loud color, and their cuticles were a crime scene. Yes, the government was targeting immigrants and people of color, but they were also targeting trans and non-binary folks like Jax.

Shaking loose his limbs, he made a lap around the condo, collecting then refilling coffee mugs. On the lap back, he handed Mel’s back to her, then slid into the chair between her and Jax, pushing another fresh mug the hacker’s way. “Are you okay?” he asked.

They finished a flurry of keystrokes, then claimed their coffee mug with one hand. With the other, they pulled a chain out from under their starched shirt collar, a simple silver ring dangling like a charm.

“Married Feb earlier this week, before they make it so we can’t.”

Before.

Not in case.

That one word knocked the emotional wind out of him, Mel’s “you’ve also been in love with her from first sight” a distant buzz in his ears.

Before.

Not in case.

In such a world, could he afford more maybes when it came to Archer? Was now his only option if he wanted to see where this delicate, electric thing with Archer led? How much time had he wasted getting back here?

Jax’s playful, snarky “Yeah, because she’s hot as fuck” broke through his mental spiral; that was more like the hacker he knew. Their genuine “And she’s my favorite person” brought him fully back, the heartfelt sentiment a welcome bright spot.

He tapped his mug against theirs. “I’m happy for you, Jax.”

“You deserve a dose of happy too.”

“Jax is right,” Mel said. “Get away this weekend. We’ll hold down the fort.”

His gaze landed on the list of names he’d scribbled on the napkin. “How, when it comes this fast and furious, all of it bad?”

“That’s what they want. To flood the zone, to exhaust all of us so we don’t fight, so we lose sight of who we are.”

He wrapped both hands around his mug, absorbing the heat, letting it provide a protective buffer from the truth he uttered. “But I’d already lost sight of part of myself a while ago.”

“And yet,” Mel said, a hand on his forearm, “you created the opportunity to find yourself, to find him, again. Follow through, Agent Moore.”

He chuckled and patted her hand. “Well played, SAC Cruz.”

“Don’t ever accuse me of being bad at segues again,” she said with a smirk.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything on Daniela and Miguel,” Jax assured him. “You should do what she says. She’s usually right.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” He laughed fondly in resignation. “Can you do me a quick favor?” At their nod, he asked them to pull up the directions to the winery on their laptop while he dug the Ruby’s Other Farm magnet out of his wallet. He set it next to the screen, snapped a picture with his phone, then sent it to Archer with a text: Fair warning. I’m on my way.

Chapter Seventeen

Archer was waiting on the porch when Elton swung his SUV into the gravel lot beside the cabin. The hanging Edison lights cast him in a warm glow, but even from behind the wheel, Elton could read the distress on his face and in his frame. Gone was the steady, serene expression that usually graced his features in the vineyard and missing were the twinkling hazel eyes and flirtatious smirk that often greeted Elton whenever he returned. Instead, Archer’s eyes were weary, his features pinched, his cheeks pale, and the slump of his shoulders worrisome.

Archer portrayed the grump, but the prickly exterior hid a deep devotion to his people and his plants. He was fiercely protective. No surprise that he was on his feet, white-knuckling the railing, by the time Elton reached the porch.

“Did you find out anything?”

The uncharacteristic crack in his voice made Elton drop his bag and close the distance between them, hands cupping his cool, rough cheeks. “Baby, how long have you⁠—”

Archer clasped his wrists, squeezing. “Did you find them? Miguel and Daniela?”