I work for the CIA. Counterterrorism.
Her words crept back into his brain, and with them, doubt. She’d been under the influence of amobarbital then. There was plenty of literature to say truth serums didn’t work, but amobarbital had a tendency to make people ramble even when they wanted to stop, which was why it was still used. That didn’t mean she’d been telling him the truth, though. She’d been trained in the same tactics he had. And she’d convincingly lied to him for months while they were in Beirut. She’d even gone so far as to screw him to keep him from finding out the truth. She knew how to beat the system. And yet . . .
As he stared down at her in the dim light coming through the thin curtains, he couldn’t stop hearing her voice in his head. The only words she’d said in that warehouse that had brought him to a stop.
I loved you, you son of a bitch! Why would I try to get you killed?
“Archer?” She looked up at him with those big amber eyes. Eyes that had drawn him in from the first. “What is it?”
He forced himself to look away. Tried to break the spell she was using to suck him under all over again. Failed because he still felt her hands on his chest and wanted—dammit—those hands everywhere. Even after everything she’d done.
“I . . . I need to sit down,” he managed. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
She shifted so he could move past her to the bench, her body brushing his in the process, igniting heat all along his skin. He ground his teeth so he didn’t reach for her and focused on the pain lighting up his biceps and thigh. She bumped into the bathroom door and swore under her breath. The camper rocked.
“As soon as we get on the ferry and the coast is clear,” she said, rubbing her elbow, “I’ll get supplies from that ambulance.”
He didn’t care how she was going to do that; he just wanted some relief. And to get his head back in the game so he’d stop reacting to her. Stop thinking of her. Stop second-guessing himself like he was doing now.
“Archer? Did you hear me?”
He didn’t look at her, but when footsteps echoed outside the camper, his head came up, and he froze.
“All right,” a voice said. A male voice. Just beyond the camper door. “I know you’re in there. Open up.”
5
Eve froze with her hand against Zane’s shoulder and peered toward the door. Her heart rate jumped, and beneath her palm, Zane went still as stone.
“I said come out,” the male voice repeated. “I know you’re in there.”
Eve glanced quickly around the small camper. There was no other exit. The windows were too small to climb through, and in the middle of all these cars, they’d never escape without being seen.
“Fuck me,” Zane mouthed.
Perspiration dotted Eve’s forehead, and her adrenaline surged. She was not going down like this, minutes to freedom. She squeezed Zane’s shoulder.
“Payton,” the man said, “if I have to come in there after you, I won’t be smiling.”
Payton? Eve’s gaze darted to Zane. His confused expression mirrored her own. Muffled giggling echoed from the front of the truck, followed by heavy footsteps moving around the vehicle, then the cab door opening.
“I told you to stay with me,” the man said. “Don’t run off again, or I’ll put you down for a nap in the back of the camper.”
More giggling echoed from the front of the vehicle, followed by a small voice exclaiming, “I win at hide-and-seek!”
“I hate hide-and-seek,” the man mumbled. Then louder, “Move over, Freckles. The ferry’s about to load.”
The kid clapped wildly, then the car door slammed shut, and the truck roared to life.
Eve released the breath she’d been holding. When Zane moved over on the bench, Eve eased onto the seat next to him. Heat immediately enveloped her, followed by the sweet, masculine scent of his skin, and too late she realized she should have sat across from him, not beside him. But when he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, she glanced his way and was glad she’d sat where she had. He was pale, and blood from the wound in his shoulder was starting to seep through the T-shirt she’d snagged downtown. He looked like he could pass out at any moment.
Worry tightened her chest. A worry he didn’t deserve, but which consumed her. She glanced over her shoulder toward the bed above the canopy of the truck.
The vehicle rocked, and what little light had seeped through around the edge of the curtains grew dark. They were moving into the belly of the ferry. They both sat still, unmoving and silent as the vehicle stopped and the ignition died.
A door opened.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” the kid said in an excited voice.
“Hold my hand,” the man yelled. Then quieter, “Your mother so owes me for this.”
The door slammed shut, and footsteps echoed away.
Eve didn’t move until the sounds around her quieted and she felt the ferry engine come to life. Only then did she breathe again and push to her feet.
“Come on, Archer,” she said quietly, gently tugging on his good arm.
“Just want to sit here.”
“I know. But I think you’ll like this better.”
It took a lot of coaxing to get him to his feet, and when she did, he swayed. “Whoa,” Eve muttered, placing a hand against his chest, another around his back to hold him upright. Heat seeped from him into her, penetrating her skin, warming places she didn’t want to remember had gone cold. “Don’t fall.”
“I’m not gonna fall,” he groused. “Just . . . tired.”
She helped him up the three small steps, and when his head hit the ceiling, she bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing the spot. “This is the worst fucking day ever.”
“Tell me about it.” Eve knelt up on the mattress above the cab. “Watch your head. The ceiling’s low.”
“Now you tell me.”
Yeah, he was a breath of fresh air, this man. She should totally ditch his ass, but she couldn’t. At least not until she got him out of Seattle.
He grunted and grumbled as he got situated on the mattress, and when he was finally lying on his back, he breathed out a long sigh. “I’m just . . . gonna close my eyes for a minute.”
Eve looked down at him and had a memory flash. Of him sound asleep on his cot in Beirut. Of her slinking into his room in the middle of the night when Carter had been on watch and thought both of them were catching a few winks. Of stripping him of his pants and taking him into her mouth. And the satisfied groan that had echoed from his chest when he’d finally awakened.
Her chest grew tighter, and she turned quickly away, hating the lump forming in her throat. “I’m getting something to close your wound. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t go far, Evie,” he slurred. “We’re not . . . done.”
No, they weren’t done. Eve blinked back the sting behind her eyes and drew a deep breath. They’d never truly be done, at least not for her.
A quick scan of the camper gave her nothing useful. In a cabinet, she found a metal coat hanger and a screwdriver and figured that would have to do. The car deck was empty of people when she stepped out of the RV and softly closed the door at her back. Just rows and rows of empty vehicles. Breathing easier, she maneuvered through the lanes until she came to the ambulance.
Her heart rate ticked up, but relief filled her chest. The ambulance was old, which meant it likely didn’t have an alarm system. She moved around the passenger side and peered inside the window. Then jerked back.
One lone EMT sat in the driver’s seat, reading a book.
Shit. Shit . . .
Eve’s mind spun, and she bit her lip, contemplating. The coat hanger trick was never going to work now.