Extreme Measures

9

Zane had to have heard her wrong. “Say that again.”

Eve blew out a long breath and dropped her hands into her lap. “You heard me right. You’d been in Beirut for six months, and the shipments had picked up considerably in that time. My bureau chief was convinced your team was responsible. Carter checked out, but you didn’t. Several large deposits had been made to your accounts, and your supervisor was already concerned about your dedication to the team. Your record up until then had been flawless, but he’d sensed something was off with you on that op, and he was nervous.”

“I . . .” Zane remembered a discussion with his supervisor about his level of dedication, just before Eve had joined his team, but his lack of enthusiasm hadn’t been because he’d been looking for alternate opportunities. It had been because he’d finally realized the life of an undercover spy wasn’t what he’d expected. At least until he’d met her.

He glared down at her and felt that rolling anger he’d harbored against her the last year begin to grow again in his belly. “My mother died of breast cancer. And a few months later, my grandmother. I inherited money. I wasn’t selling secrets.”

“I know that now,” Eve said. “But back then . . . they wanted you checked out.”

“So you lied to me?”

She looked down at the floor. “About my reasons for being there, yes.”

No, she hadn’t just lied about that. He could tell by the way she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “About everything.”

Eve’s cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink, and she quickly glanced toward Miller.

Fuck Miller. At this point, Zane didn’t care what Miller heard.

Miller held up both hands in mock surrender. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here to make sure no one gets killed.”

Eve frowned.

“Answer the question, Wolfe,” Zane said, his patience growing thin.

Eve looked back to Zane and pursed her lips. “I lied to you about the op. Nothing else.”

I loved you, you son of a bitch! Why would I try to get you killed?

He didn’t know what to believe anymore. She could lie with the best of them, but those words—spoken so frantically and with such emotion—wouldn’t leave him alone. His pulse beat faster.

Focus on the facts, dumbass. Not stupid emotions that don’t mean anything now.

Zane crossed his arms over his chest. “What about the arms dealer I saw you meeting with? The one we’d been observing for months?”

“He was an informant, helping us figure out which officers were compromised.”

That answer was way too easy as far as Zane was concerned.

At his silence, Eve looked up. “My job was not to bring him down. My job was to stop the leak within. Come on, Archer. You know as well as I do that sometimes in this business bad things happen no matter how we try to stop them.”

“Bad things?” Zane’s control snapped. He leaned forward and gripped the arms of her chair, every muscle in his body tense and rigid. “We were close to nabbing that son of a bitch, and you let him go. And he went on to bomb an entire school and kill dozens of young kids. That’s more than a fucking bad thing.”

Eve’s eyes flew open wide. “I didn’t know he was going to bomb that school. If I had—”

She was acting again. She had to be. “If you had, what?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t have let him walk away.”

Zane stared hard into her eyes, looking for confirmation of the lie. He couldn’t see it. But he couldn’t see the truth, either.

She clenched her jaw and lifted her chin, her own temper finally bubbling to the surface. “Do you honestly think I’m such a monster that I wanted innocent children to die? I live with that decision every day. I wake up to it at night in a cold sweat. Just like I’m going to wake up to the image of that child lying in the middle of the street next to me in Seattle. Don’t talk to me like I don’t know the cost of the choices I’ve made. I know them all. And I carry every single one of them inside me.”

“Why don’t we take a breather?” Miller pushed a hand against the center of Zane’s chest, forcing him back from Eve’s chair. To Zane, Miller whispered, “You need to dial it down a notch, cowboy.”

Zane’s chest rose and fell as he stared at Eve, his brain humming with questions and memories he was too keyed up to focus on. She blinked several times, looked away from him, and then drew a deep breath and let it out. He tried to tell himself she was lying, that she was making all of this up, but the wetness in her eyes and the emotion he’d heard in her barely contained voice wouldn’t let him believe it. Yeah, she was a good actress, but he’d never seen her fake emotion like this. Not even when she’d walked away from him.

If what she said was true—if she really was with CI—Ryder could get confirmation for him. But that still didn’t explain what had happened yesterday in Seattle or what she’d done to his team in Guatemala.

“I’m fine,” he said to Miller, pushing his hand away.

“Really? ’Cause you don’t look fine, brother.”

Zane glared at Miller. “I said I was fine, and I meant it. Let it go.”

Miller dropped his hand in a “whatever” move, then shrugged. He stepped aside but stayed close enough to get between them if things heated up again.

And Zane wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset by that realization. Because he wasn’t sure who needed protecting more right now—him or Eve.

Raking a hand through his hair, he worked to cool his temper. “Okay, assuming you really do work for CI, what were you doing in Seattle yesterday at the site of the bombing?”

Eve’s jaw clenched. “I was scheduled to meet a man by the name of Tyrone Smith. Recently, the CIA has seen an influx of opium and other drugs being imported from places like Afghanistan. The money exchange is going to fund terrorism. Case officers are constantly being bombarded with opportunities that didn’t exist ten or twelve years ago. Anyway, a contact with CSIS—the Canadian Security Intelligence Services—set up the meeting. Smith has connections all over the globe, and through those connections, he’d supposedly come into possession of a laundry list of compromised operatives collected by MI6. I was posing as the front person for a privately funded defense company interested in the information he’d obtained. He’d agreed to sell it to me.”

“Did you get the list?” Miller asked.

“No. Smith was being evasive. I got a bad feeling and decided it was time to turn tail and run. Just as I was about to leave, he pushed his phone across the table and showed me the image of my sister bound in the back of what I assumed was the van across the street. He led me to believe she was in there.”

“How can you be sure it was her?” Zane asked.

“Because Olivia has a unique purple butterfly tattoo on her ankle. I saw it clearly in the image. I didn’t doubt it was her. This kind of guy doesn’t play games. He also knew my real name.”

Eve finally met his gaze. And Zane’s chest stretched tight as a drum when he saw the fear in her eyes.

She looked back down and gripped the chair cushion. “I gave him the money, he called his goons off the van, then he left and I headed for the crosswalk to get to the van and get my sister out. But it blew before I could cross the street. And the next thing I remember is waking up”—she lifted her gaze once more—“with you.”

Zane’s heart beat hard against his ribs. First slow, then faster with every pounding blow. She lies. She lies for a living . . .

“What—” He cleared his throat because there was suddenly a huge lump blocking his words. “What about Guatemala? You knew my team was compromised.”

Eve sighed and looked back down at the floor. “I didn’t know your team had been set up until it was too late to warn you. Someone in the CIA has a personal vendetta against the CEO of Aegis Security. I don’t know why, and I don’t know who. I just know he wanted to see Aegis taken down.”

Miller looked Archer’s way. “Ryder told the State Department to go fuck itself when Aegis didn’t get that contract in Egypt.”

Yeah, Zane remembered. Ryder had been pissed when Aegis had been passed over for the Egypt job, even though his guys were the more qualified team. That had been a few months before the Guatemala raid. Aegis hadn’t originally been awarded the Humbolt contract in Guatemala. It had gone to a different defense contractor, but at the last minute they’d backed out and the government had come calling.

At the time, Archer had been psyched. Especially when Ryder had allowed him to use his CIA contacts to aid with the planning. Now it seemed like one major-ass setup.

“I was in Istanbul at the time,” Eve went on. “But when I caught wind of what was happening, I called to make sure you were still alive. Not to gloat like you thought.”

“It didn’t sound like you were just checking to see if I was alive.”

She frowned up at him. “We’re talking about a spy organization, Archer. We spy on others, but we sure the hell spy on each other. I’m living proof of that. I didn’t know who might be listening on some back channel, so I pretended not to care. I couldn’t care, because if I did, who knows how many others might have been compromised. I also couldn’t let them know—”

She closed her mouth, and Zane found himself waiting for more. “Know what?”

She clenched her jaw and looked away. Irritation, anger, and something else lingered in her gaze. Something he couldn’t read but that caused his pulse to beat even faster. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Know that I’m an idiot. That’s all.”

That wasn’t all, though. There was something else. Something she wasn’t saying.

Zane opened his mouth to ask, but the ping from Miller’s cell phone cut him off.

Eve’s wide-eyed gaze immediately shot to Miller, who was already pulling the phone from his pocket. “Is it about my sister?” She pushed out of the chair. “Did they find her?”

Miller frowned as he stared down at the screen. “She didn’t show up for work two days ago. She’s been listed as officially missing. No signs of foul play at her house, though.”

“Oh God.” Eve closed her eyes and turned away.

Zane’s stomach churned, and contradicting thoughts raced through his mind.

“There’s more,” Miller said, shoving the phone back in his pocket.

“More what?” Eve swiveled back to face him.

Miller crossed the room, picked up the remote from the coffee table, and flipped on the TV. A young female reporter’s face filled the screen. Followed by a not-too-recent picture of Zane.

In the photo, his hair was short and neatly trimmed, and he was wearing a white button-down and black blazer. An ID badge hung off his jacket pocket.

“Oh shit,” Eve whispered.

“While no group has yet claimed responsibility for yesterday’s bombing in Seattle, sources confirm this man, Zane Archer, also wanted in connection with the tragedy, is a former case officer with the Central Intelligence Agency. Archer left the State Department a year and a half ago under questionable circumstances.”

Eve whipped toward Miller. “Give me your phone.” When he only stared at her, she said in a frantic voice, “I need your phone now.”

“Who are you planning to call?” he asked skeptically, reaching for his cell.

“My supervisor. Someone leaked Archer’s CIA photo to the press.”

Zane’s mind was a swirl of contradicting information, but Eve’s anxiety got through. “Wolfe,” he said, more for himself than her. “Take a breath.”

She yanked the cell from Miller’s hand and started dialing. “I’ll take a breath when I figure out what the fuck is going on.” Into the phone she said, “Yes, I need you to patch me through to 1-5-7-8-4.” She hesitated, then muttered, “My security clearance is . . .”

She wandered into the kitchen with Miller’s phone, and Zane let her go, knowing she couldn’t get far, too rattled to think straight. At some point, Miller had hit mute on the TV, but all Zane could do was stare at the younger image of himself on the screen, a stupid rookie who thought he’d been making things better in the world when he’d only been making them worse.

Now it felt like the world had just been blown to shit and he was in the center of the fallout. With Eve’s words from the warehouse continuing to ring in his ears.

I loved you, you son of a bitch. I loved you . . .

“Dude. You okay?”

Miller’s hand slapping against Zane’s shoulder shocked him out of his trance. “What?”

“I asked if you were okay. You look like shit.”

Zane felt like shit. He rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah.” Dropping his hand, he looked toward the kitchen. He could hear Eve’s low voice but couldn’t make out any of her words. “Do you believe her?”

Miller shrugged and dropped into a chair. “I don’t not believe her, if that helps. She could totally be telling the truth. I mean, her story makes sense.”

Perspiration dotted the back of Zane’s neck. Yeah, it made sense to him too. What didn’t make sense was why he was being tagged in this mess and not her.

“Why don’t you tell me how you found her yesterday and what you’ve been up to since,” Miller said. “Maybe then I can figure out how to help you. Because the Feds aren’t the only ones who have a hard-on for you, buddy. Ryder’s got one too, and that’s not exactly a good thing.”

Zane rested his hands on his hips. Yeah, he bet Ryder had it in for him. Before Eve could come back into the room, he launched into how he’d tracked her to Seattle and caught up with her just before that bomb went off. Then he relayed what had happened since.

Miller crossed his hands over his chest, kicked out his legs, and shook his head as he looked up at the ceiling. “God Almighty, but you know how to screw up a wet dream, don’t you? What the fuck were you planning on doing with her, man?”

Frustration welled in Zane’s stomach. He punched the Off button on the TV and began pacing. “I don’t know. I wanted to find out what she’d been up to. And I guess I wanted to scare her a little.”

Miller chuckled. “Looks to me like you all you did is piss her off. That woman does not like you. And if what she told us is true, then with good reason.”

Zane stopped in the middle of the floor and looked toward the kitchen. Eve was quiet now, but he knew she was still in there. How, he wasn’t sure. He just . . . felt her.

His heart beat faster, and a tingling spread across his neck and down his spine, then wrapped itself around his abdomen until it tightened every muscle in his torso.

“Life is tough,” Miller muttered. “But it’s tougher when you’re stupid.”

Zane’s gaze snapped Miller’s way, and Miller grinned. “John Wayne. Smart man. You could learn a thing or two from the Duke.”

Zane frowned and was just about to tell Miller what he could do with his smart-mouthed advice when Eve stepped back in the room. Her face was pale, her hands were shaking against the phone, and a dazed look reflected in her normally clear and confident eyes.

“Eve?” Concern immediately spread icy fingers through Zane’s chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I . . . I couldn’t get through. My security clearance has been . . . revoked.”

“Shit.” Miller pushed to his feet. “They’ve linked you two together already. If they were waiting for you to call in—”

“No,” she said quickly. “They won’t be able to track me. I . . . I cut the call before that could happen.” She lowered herself onto the couch. “I need to get in touch with my supervisor and figure out what’s going on. But first I need to find my sister.”

“You’re not getting anywhere near downtown Seattle with all of this going on,” Miller said. “The entire city’s looking for Archer, and security cams on the ferry will link the two of you together soon enough. You two need to get the hell out of the Pacific Northwest, like fast.”

Surprise trickled through Zane. “I thought Ryder sent you here to bring me in.”

“He did.” Miller tugged keys from the front pocket of his jeans. “Call me crazy, but I hate to see a dumb shit take the fall for something he didn’t do. Especially when the government’s behind it.” He looked toward Eve. “I’ll find your sister. You two just get the hell out of Dodge and figure out who’s behind this, because if you don’t, it’s going to link back to Aegis, and that’ll just fuck things up for all of us.”

“You . . .” Confusion clouded Eve’s eyes. “How do you think you can—?”

“Miller used to be DIA,” Zane told her.

“Defense Intelligence Agency,” Eve muttered. Her gaze shot to Miller. “You worked for the Pentagon?”

“Four years,” Zane said, answering for him. A surge of brotherhood filled his chest as he glanced Miller’s way. He’d left Aegis a year ago without a word to any of the guys, and he’d shunned their attempts to get in touch with him since. But the bond they’d formed, all coming from similar backgrounds, was still strong. It was still there. “Isn’t that right, Bull?”

A wry smile curled one side of Miller’s lips when Zane used his nickname, but it faded when he glanced toward Eve. “How did this contact get in touch with you?”

“Cell phone.”

“Where is it?”

Eve pressed a hand to her head. “I lost it, in the explosion.”

“No, you didn’t,” Zane said. “It’s in the loft at the warehouse.”

“What loft?” Miller asked.

“Where I took her. After the bombing.”

When Eve’s shocked gaze darted Zane’s way, he shrugged. “I didn’t know what was in it, so I grabbed it when I pulled you from that rubble.” He glanced back to Miller, not wanting to remember what Eve had looked like then, or how relieved he’d been to find her still alive. “It’s probably still there, unless the team that came after us picked it up.”

“It’s a start.” Miller tossed the keys in his hand to Zane. “I’ve got a truck outside, registered under a different name, so it’ll take quite a bit of digging for anyone to find you in it. Just don’t get a speeding ticket, dumbass. Come outside with me. Got a few other things you might find useful.”

Miller headed for the door, and Zane moved to follow, but Eve stopped him with a hand on his arm. “How do you know he can do this?”

The fear in her eyes was stark and fresh, and it told him loud and clear her biggest concern right now was for her sister. She wasn’t lying. All of this—everything she’d told him—was true. He felt it in his chest even if his mind still wanted to believe the worst. “Miller wasn’t just a case officer for the DIA. His specialty was finding people who didn’t want to be found. And eliminating them.”

Understanding dawned in Eve’s eyes.

“If anyone can find your sister besides you, it’s him. Trust me, Evie. He’s your safest bet right now.”

Eve dropped her hand and slowly nodded. “I . . . I need a minute to clear my head.”

For a second, Zane considered the fact that she might use the opportunity to run. After all, it was his name associated with the bombing right now, not hers. Then he pushed the thought aside. She hadn’t run yet, and the Eve he knew—the one he remembered, at least—was smart enough to know when she needed help.

“I’ll get supplies from Miller and be right back.”

Dawn was just creeping over the island when he closed the door at his back. Miller was two blocks down the quiet road, standing at the open passenger door of black Ford F150. From a dark gray duffel bag, he handed Zane a fresh cell phone and placed a SIG P250 and a Glock 9mm on the seat cushion, along with ammo magazines. “These should tide you over. You got supplies somewhere?”

Zane picked up the SIG, checked the chamber, and holstered the gun at his lower back as he thought of the car he’d parked in Everett. “Yeah, getting to it might be a problem, though.”

Miller snagged a piece of paper from the glove box and jotted down a name and number. “This is a document guy I’ve used in the area. He’s in Bellingham, which might be a drive, but worth it if you two have to get out of the country fast.”

“Thanks.” Zane pocketed the number and the phone. “What about Ryder?”

Miller shrugged. “Ryder fucked my vacation, which caused me to lose out on three days locked in a suite at the Fairmont with a hot, leggy brunette. He can chill it on this one for all I care.”

The corner of Zane’s lips curled. “No wonder you were so eager to help us.”

“Not us—you.” Miller nodded toward the house. “Watch your six with her. Just because I think she’s telling the truth doesn’t mean she won’t screw you the first chance she gets. Everyone in the spy game fucks everyone else, one way or another. You and I know that better than most.”

Yeah, Zane did know that better than most. And with Eve, he was already walking a fine line between love and hate. He honestly had no clue what she’d do next. And that made him more nervous than when he’d thought she was a traitor.

“I owe you, Bull.”

Miller frowned. “Sure as shit you do.” He handed the Glock and extra ammo to Zane, tossed the duffel over his shoulder, and then slammed the passenger door. “And if I get my ass blown off by some freakin’ terrorist over a homely looking schoolteacher, I’m gonna come back and haunt yours from here to DC.” He pinned Zane with a look. “Don’t fuck this one up, Archer.”

Miller didn’t wait for Zane to answer. Didn’t say goodbye either. Just turned and headed off into the early morning light without another word.

Alone, Zane pulled the cell from his pocket and punched in the number of the one person he hoped could shed some light on this whole clusterfuck.

“Dietrick,” a voice answered on the first ring. “Talk to me.”

“Carter? It’s Sawyer.”

“Sawyer?” Surprise registered in Carter’s—correction, James Dietrick’s—voice. “Is that really you? Holy fuck, man. Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’re in?”

“Yeah.” Zane couldn’t even see Miller anymore. The guy was a like a shadow. Here one minute, gone the next. But that was the way it usually worked with the DIA’s best. Right now, he just hoped Carter was half as good. “And I’m calling in that favor. I need your help.”

Bracing her hands against the counter in the bathroom, Eve looked up at her reflection and barely saw herself.

All she could think about was Olivia, who had her and why. And every time she pictured Olivia’s butterfly tattoo on that phone screen, her mind flashed back to the Agency. To her security clearance being revoked. To the operator’s voice on the line when she’d called—too calm, too cool, too collected. Eve knew that was the way they were trained, but something in her gut said things weren’t right. This wasn’t a technical problem with her clearance like the operator had wanted her to believe. It was a setup, just like the Guatemala raid.

A red haze covered her eyes, and her blood pumped hot.

“Eve?” Archer’s knock against the bathroom door brought her head around. “You okay in there? We need to get going.”

Eve looked back at her reflection. Was she okay? She didn’t feel okay. She felt . . . betrayed. And pissed. And . . . reckless. The years spun in front of her as she stared at herself, starting with the night Sam had been killed. At first, joining the Agency had been an escape from the pain and a way to do something to prevent others from being innocently murdered like Sam, but somewhere along the way—in all the things she’d done to that end—she’d lost sight of the big picture. She’d given everything to the Agency in the name of national security, and she’d kept nothing for herself. And now they were repaying her by blacklisting her, turning their back on her, and setting her up to take the blame for something she hadn’t done.

She had not sacrificed her life for this. To be thrown aside like she was expendable. And she wasn’t about to let them blame her for something she had no hand in.

“Eve?” Archer knocked again, and Eve’s pulse shot even higher. “Come on, open the door. Don’t make me come in there after you.”

Against the sink, Eve’s fingers turned white where she gripped the counter. She didn’t trust herself near Archer right now. Not with the way she was feeling. She was already pissed at him for what he’d done to her, and feeling guilty about his getting dragged into this mess at the same time. And every time she looked at him she saw the old him, the one she’d nearly given up her career for. And right now she couldn’t help but think that maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be in this current mess.

“I . . . I need to be alone right now,” she managed. “Go away.”

Wood splintered, and the door to the bathroom flew inward, knocking against the wall with a crack. Shocked, Eve whipped toward the opening and stared at Archer with wide eyes. “What the hell was that?”

Archer glanced around the small room with its tile floor and granite counter, then focused on the small, rectangular window high over the shower wall. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t planning on doing anything stupid.”

Like running. Her temper skyrocketed. He thought she was going to bail. He still didn’t trust her. Even after everything she’d told him.

“Fuck you, Archer.” She pushed past him and moved into the bedroom, trying to settle her raging temper.

It didn’t work.

“Fuck me? You seem to forget I’m the reason you’re still alive, missy.”

Her eyes focused on a Glock, sitting on the dresser. One he’d obviously gotten from Miller. She moved toward it. “And how do you figure that? If it were up to you, I’d be in handcuffs. If it were up to you, I’d still probably be tied to a chair in that fucking warehouse.”

He stepped into the room and heaved out a sigh. “Eve—”

“You don’t want to believe a single thing I have to say.” She lifted the Glock and checked the chamber. The thing was loaded. Stupid move on his part. She turned to face him. “You want to blame me for everything. And now I’m your way out. Well, I’m not going in. Not until I figure out who’s trying to set me up.”

“Set us up.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

He took a step toward her. “I’m in this now too.”

“That’s your own stupid fault. I didn’t ask you to follow me. I didn’t ask you to get involved in any of this. You’re the one with trust issues.”

His gaze shifted to the gun in her hand. “With good reason.”

Power rippled through her veins. “Afraid I’m gonna hurt you, Archer?”

“Evie, you’ve always been able to hurt me.”

“Bullshit. You believed the worst about me from the very start. It never even occurred to you there could be more. Because you only see things in black-and-white. It’s why you couldn’t cut it with the Agency. Because you’re weak.”

The anger was roiling now, and she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t seem to rein it in either. She’d spent the last year feeling guilty over what had happened to him in Guatemala. The last eighteen months missing him and wishing she’d been strong enough to leave the Agency for him. And for what? To be made to feel like she didn’t matter? It was bad enough knowing he thought she was a traitor, but to stand here and see that he didn’t care anything for her anymore? It was too much.

“You think I’m weak?” Challenge flared in his hazel eyes. He pulled a SIG from the back waistband of his jeans and set it on the dresser next to him. “I dare you to prove your point. But not with the gun.”

Something hot rolled through her belly. Something wicked. Something reckless. She shouldn’t. Her emotions were way too close to the surface. But she needed to do something to get rid of this roiling anger and bubbling adrenaline. And maybe kicking his ass right now would do it.

Eyes locked on his, she set the Glock on the dresser next to the SIG, dropped her arm, and stared at him. “You don’t want to do this, Archer. You’ve got a bad shoulder and a bum leg. It’s not a fair fight.”

A cocky smile slid across his lips. “You’re good, Eve, but you’re not that good. Even with my bad leg I can still take you.”

Beirut flashed in her mind. All those hours locked in that house. When they’d sparred together in one of the empty rooms, just to pass the time. When their wrestling would turn to the X-rated kind as soon as they were both breathless and panting.

Warning flags went off in her mind. Big ones. Signaling this had bad news written all over it. And she’d better wise up and listen before it was too late.

She reached for the gun and turned away. “Nice try, Archer, but I’m not interested.”

“I let you win in Beirut.”

Eve froze. And inside her chest, something pinched tight. “Don’t bring up Beirut to me. Don’t even mention it.”

His hand landed on hers, resting on the gun, and his body heat washed over her just before she felt him brush up against her back. “Why not?” he whispered close to her ear. Too close. A shiver ran down her spine as his warm breath slid across her skin. “Because it wasn’t good for you? Or because I was nothing but a job?”

Her breaths sped up. He was using sex against her, the bastard. Making her remember. Making her want. That was a low blow, even for him. “You don’t know anything about me, Archer. You never did.”

“I know you’re pissed about what’s happened, and you’re too stubborn to ask for help. And I know you don’t trust me, which is why you’re trying to tick me off so I’ll walk away. But that’s not gonna happen, Evie. I’m in this now with you, whether you like it or not.” He closed his hand over hers and lifted it off the gun. “So go ahead and take your best shot at me right now, so we can get over this and move on with what we need to do next.”

“Get over this?” He thought she could get over this? Like she’d gotten over him? He didn’t know what she’d been through this last year. Didn’t have any clue how she felt.

Her temper shot through the roof. Before she could stop herself, she shoved her elbow into his gut, twisted, and lifted her knee to catch him in the groin.

He grunted at the first blow but caught her leg before she could nail him in the balls. Twisting quickly to her right, she swiveled out of his grip and landed on her bare feet.

“You’ve been practicing.”

She didn’t like the condescending tone of his voice. Or the way his hands felt against her skin. Warm. Electric. Alive.

Tempting.

Eve forced back the arousal and stepped to the right. Remember how you felt in that warehouse. Remember what he did to you.

Her adrenaline pumped, and the blood roared in her ears, but she was focused solely on him. On his low-riding jeans, his chiseled shoulders, and that smug look on his scruffy, way-too-damn-handsome face. “And you’re about to get your ass handed to you.”

He chuckled, and the sound was—fuck—it was sexy as hell. “You always did like my ass.”

That was it. All she could take. She kicked out with her foot and nailed him in his bad leg. His knee gave, and he hit the ground with a grunt. Eve swung out with her arm to hit him in the side of the head, but he caught her wrist in his massive palm and yanked her down. She fell against him with a yelp, but before she could wriggle free, he rolled her to her back and pinned both arms over her head against the carpet.

His chest rose and fell with his rapid breaths. His shaggy hair was a mess around his face. And his cheeks were flushed with both exertion and pain. But victory flared in his hazel eyes when she struggled and couldn’t break free. “Had enough yet?”

She clenched her jaw. Both because he had her pinned and because—dammit—he felt so good against her, sinking his weight onto her, pressing his hips—oh shit—tight against hers. “Never.”

She wrapped both legs around his hips, slid them higher to his waist, hooked her feet together, and squeezed as hard as she could.

“Dammit, Eve . . .” His face contorted in pain. She knew she was hurting him, but she didn’t let up. She squeezed harder, both to get him to back off and because she couldn’t stand being this close to him again. Not after last night. “Gonna make you . . . pay . . .” His grip tightened on her wrists.

She flexed her muscles on her right side, intent on rolling him over. “Try it, you son of a—”

His mouth covered hers.

Synapses misfired. The electrical message from her brain to her muscles shorted out. He dipped his tongue inside her mouth, and she tasted him, like she had last night. Except this wasn’t a drug-induced dream. It wasn’t a hallucination. And it wasn’t the least bit sweet and gentle.

She froze. Thought was replaced by a hazy, thick cloud while he ravished her mouth, while he stroked his tongue against hers again and again and pressed his body down onto hers. Heat brewed in her belly and shot south between her legs where she held him tight, and she realized he was hard. Hard and thick and already rubbing against her in a way that brought every cell in her body to life, making her feel things she hadn’t felt in years.

“Stop fighting me, Eve,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m not your enemy.”

But he was. He always would be. The one person she didn’t want to live without and the one she’d never been able to fully commit to.

He tipped his head to the other side and kissed her again. This time without the insane pressure. This time with long, slow, deep strokes that sent a shiver down her spine. She opened to him, took him in, kissed him back as the muscles in her legs relaxed around his waist, and slid to his hips.

“That’s it, Evie,” he whispered. “Let me in. You have to trust me so we can help each other.”

His words cut through the sexual haze coloring everything, and she suddenly realized what he was doing.

Intimidating her hadn’t worked. Tying her up hadn’t either. So now he was resorting to using her stupid feelings against her so he could run the show and tell her what to do next. Well, she wasn’t going to let him. He thought he could use sex to manipulate her? He didn’t know what was about to hit him.

She tightened her muscles, shifted her weight, and flipped him to his back. Then she pinned his hands above his head, pulled her mouth from his, and stared down at him. “Do you really want me to trust you, Archer?”

Desire filled his dark eyes and flushed his cheeks. A desire she remembered well from Beirut. One she’d dreamt about seeing again on his face. But not like this. “Yeah, I do.”

She leaned forward and brushed her breasts against his bare chest. The movement forced her sex into tighter contact with his erection. Tingles spread all through her lower body. Tingles she wanted to savor but couldn’t. “It takes a lot for me to trust someone. I need to feel something for them.” She did it again, and she knew he felt those tingles too by the way he sucked in a breath. “You made me feel once. I wonder if you could do it again.”

“Eve—”

She flexed her hips, this time intentionally rubbing against his swollen cock. “Do you want me, Archer? Tell me you want me.”

“Eve . . .” His eyes rolled back, and he lifted his hips to meet hers. “Yes, I want you.”

Anger pulsed through her once more. She tightened her grip on his arms and then pushed quickly off him. “Well, tough shit. In this business we never get what we want. And you just proved to me you’re a bigger liar than I am.”