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.