Page 27 of Archer

“It’s the job.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I met his gaze. Knox knew me too well. We’d spent years in the desert together, watching each other’s backs. He could read me better than most. I had a love-hate relationship with that fact.

“I’m good,” I said. “She needs protection. I’ll provide it.”

“Archer—”

“I’m good,” I repeated, more firmly this time.

Sloane exchanged a look with Knox. “She’s been through a lot. Be patient with her.”

“I’m always patient.”

Knox snorted. Sloane tried to hide her smile.

“I’m a very patient person,” I insisted.

“Sure you are,” Knox said. “That’s why you threatened to throw a tourist’s fanny pack into the sound last week.”

“He was blocking the dock.”

“For thirty seconds.”

I finished the trip to my room and grabbed my duffel bag from the closet. I needed jeans, shirts, running gear... I went drawer to drawer collecting clothes, then moved on to toiletries, laptop, the book I’d been reading...

Twenty-four hours ago I’d been sleeping on this guest bed, annoyed about the island’s housing shortage, and now I was moving in with a woman who made me stupid just by existing.

“Hey.” Knox appeared in the doorway. “Should we talk about this?”

“About keeping a woman safe from a stalker? It’s just a job.”

I zipped the duffel and straightened. Knox thought I was too direct. I thought he should stop dancing around like I was a bomb waiting to explode. “Say what you want to say.”

“All right. She’s a client. She’s vulnerable. And I saw the way she was looking at you.”

Sloane stood behind him, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh, really? Do tell.”

My hands stilled on the bag. “Yeah. Talk.”

Knox’s expression turned bland. “Please. That woman looked at you as if you’re the white knight on a horse come to save her. That could get messy fast. Especially if you’re telling me you didn’t notice. Be aware, man. Don’t let her get things confused.”

I liked his observation far more than I should.

“Maybe it just means she trusts him,” Sloane said. “Which is good. She needs to trust him.”

I shouldered the duffel. “I know how to handle myself.”

“I know you do. I’m just saying be aware and be careful. For both your sakes.”

I headed for the door. Sloane stopped me in the kitchen with a bag of groceries.

“What’s this?”

“Basics,” she said. “Milk, eggs, bread, coffee. Harper probably hasn’t been shopping much, and you’ll both need to eat.”

“Thanks.”