Page 8 of Archer

I couldn’t help wondering if the ensemble was some sort of disguise.

“Yeah. Hang on.” I fished my wallet from my back pocket and liberated a card, then passed it to her. “Okay?”

She stared at the little rectangle. “You’re a Marine?”

Knox included our military training on the cards as a way of adding confidence for customers.

“I am.” Once a Marine, always a Marine.

Her shoulder edged away from her ears, and she took off the sunglasses. Her hazel eyes met mine, wide and frightened. Devastatingly beautiful.

At least she wasn’t a redhead. That was my kryptonite. I blamed my sister’s obsession with the Little Mermaid in my formative years.

Otherwise, I would’ve already grabbed a shovel to help her bury whatever skeletons she was hiding.

“Someone’s been following me,” she said quietly. “I came here to hide, because I thought Carolina Bay was far enough from…. But he found me anyway.”

“Who?” I stood, and her head tipped back, keeping her eyes on mine.

She gave history’s slowest shrug.

This woman was going to be a problem. Not because of whatever stalker situation she’d brought to Carolina Bay, but because she said fewer words than I did. And I needed her words.

“I can’t help you without more information.”

That was partially a lie. I could protect her without the guy’s name. But I wanted the information.

“I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “That’s the problem. I don’t know who’s doing this or why.”

I studied her carefully. The fear in her eyes appeared genuine. The tremor in her voice seemed authentic as well. Whatever was happening, she believed the danger was real. And a sense of urgency built in my chest.

I’d been wrong. Her lack of words wasn’t my biggest problem here. It was those damned eyes that made me want to fix everything for her.

I’d only known her two minutes.

I considered tagging Colton in for me, but the same caveman inside me who wanted to fix this woman’s life roared at the thought of anyone else taking this case.

“Mr. Stone?”

My gaze jumped to hers, having apparently missed something she’d said. “What?”

“I asked you when’s the soonest you can come?”

I cleared my throat and took a seat. “Knox and Sloane are out on an excursion until four. I can come by afterward today, if that works for you. How’s five?”

She bit her lip but nodded. “Okay. I’ll text the address to this number.” She wiggled the business card. “At four.”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

She put the sunglasses back on. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. —.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, probably searching her memory for the name she’d given earlier. “Miller.”

Sure.

Then she was gone.