by M. K. Dawn
“Don’t we have a must be present to cut rule?” Travis grinned.
“No, we do not, Dr. Morrison.” A smile tugged at Sloan’s lips. No one was going to take the next surgery from her. “And don’t you forget it.”
***
As Sloan expected, the library was quiet. Very few ventured this way often and when they did, they only stayed long enough to renew their Kindle rentals. Most days there wasn’t even a librarian on staff. It was for that very reason this location had become Sloan’s place of solace. She spent hours every week wandering around, reading book jackets, carefully selecting her next read. It was her normal in their abnormal world.
She dropped her return book into the bin and headed for the paranormal section. The past few months she’d been consumed by dark, gritty, magnificent thrillers but now she yearned to switch things up. Maybe a humorous vampire or werewolf series? Perhaps mystical witches or angels? Definitely not a sentimental romance. Her life was disrupted by that nonsense already. She wanted something light and fun; a book that didn’t take itself too seriously. Fiction had always been her way to escape the harsh truth of reality.
Paranormal was nestled in the far back right corner, tucked away with the surprisingly large erotica section, which always appeared under-stocked. For a few moments, Sloan studied the spines of the books to see if any stuck out. There were a few she recognized — the Twilight trilogy and Black Dagger Brotherhood series—the latter she had read.
Nice Girls Don’t Have Fangs. She smiled and removed the book from the shelf.
“Can you believe this shit?” a man’s voice boomed through the room. “The fucking surface!”
“Cifarelli, dude,” a second voice said. “You can’t be talking about that. It’s top secret.”
As Archer’s former roommate, Cale Cifarelli’s voice was one she recognized; she’d met the man more times than she could count. The other she couldn’t place.
“There ain't nobody here. Right?” Cifarelli yelled. “If you are, now’s the time to speak up.”
Sloan slunk further into the corner. If these two men were going to speak about the surface, she wanted to hear what they had to say.
“See, kid? Nobody here,” Cifarelli said. “Now, what is it Archer wanted us to dig up?”
“It’s Private Jones, not kid.” He was the soldier that had escorted her from the airport. Sloan thought the voice was familiar.
“Chill. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Colonel Archer asked that we grab a couple of geology books about the area.”
Colonel? When did that happen?
Cale grunted. “Can’t we just search the computer databases for the info?”
“Like Google?” Jones asked. “Hate to break it to you man, but the internet fell when the world did.”
“Thanks for the update, smart-ass. I’m talking about data stored on the massive servers they got locked away on the thirteenth floor.”
“You and Archer go way back,” Jones said. “Why wouldn’t he want us to check the servers?”
“Hell if I know.” Two sets of footsteps plodded closer. They were heading in the wrong direction for non-fiction. Sloan hoped they would figure that out before they stumbled across her. “He probably just wants to make sure we have accurate data before we head up to the surface.”
The book slipped from her fingers as her hand rushed to her mouth to stop herself from gasping. Archer’s going to the surface? How is that even possible? After the announcement, she’d read up on the effects an asteroid strike would have on the earth. The aftermath varied a great deal depending on the size and velocity of the celestial body when it struck the surface. Neither she knew, but only a year had passed since the disaster. If they were brought down here because no one would be able to survive at ground level, there was no way the surface could be safe so soon.
“Wait a second.” The footsteps stopped not far from where she hid. “This is the mystery section. We’re going the wrong damn way. Non-fiction must be on the other side.”
“What do you think we’ll find when we get out there?” Jones asked, his youthfulness evident by the hint of fear in his voice.
“Hell,” Cifarelli said. “Sorry if that sounds harsh, kid, but I can’t think of a better way to put it.”
Their footsteps faded into the distance along with their conversation.
Sloan hovered in the corner, mind reeling. There was no reason for her to overreact just yet. She should speak with Archer first, find out if any of what she overheard was true. If it was, she would convince him that an expedition to the surface was imprudent. How anyone could think this mission was a good idea, she didn’t know, but with everything she’d discovered in her extensive research, this mission was a death sentence.
One problem at a time. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her frayed nerves. Right now she had to figure out how to leave the library without drawing attention to herself or sit back and wait until they left. Last thing she wanted was for these soldiers to know she’d been eavesdropping—they had made it known their discussion was top-secret and she couldn’t guess what the penalty would be for her intrusion. Though she was fairly certain Cifarelli wouldn’t report her, she wasn’t sure about Private Jones. Her few encounters with the young man led her to believe he was a stickler for the rules.
“Do you think we need all these books?” Jones asked.
A loud thump ricocheted off the walls. If Sloan had to guess, she would say a large stack of books was dropped on the counter. “More is better, kid. We bring all these books to the meeting tomorrow morning then everyone will get to search through them, not just us.”
“But Colonel Archer said—”
“Let me deal with Archer. Just scan the books into the system so we can get the hell out of here.”
Fifteen beeps. Fifteen books checked out. Probably only one or two of them were needed.
The doors swung open and slammed closed a second later. Sloan waited an agonizing ten more minutes before she emerged from the paranormal section and peeked out into the hall.
When she was sure the coast was clear, Sloan hurried down to the elevators and headed for her room.
With any luck, she’d have a chance to talk to Archer before they joined their friends at the bar tonight and clear up this misunderstanding once and for all.
***
At seven forty-five, Sloan received a message from Archer to inform her he was running late and would meet her at the bar when he was through. It was a message he should’ve sent an hour ago, as she’d been waiting for him to join her for dinner. Dinner she no longer needed after she’d eaten the entire fruit and cheese spread delivered yesterday. It was Archer’s favorite late night, post-workout snack. He wasn’t going to be happy when he found it gone, but served him right for not communicating with her earlier.
She drained her third glass of wine and sulked on the couch. The book she’d taken from the library lay upside down on the coffee table, stuck on page five, the same as it had been most of the day.
Her plan to put aside any thought of Archer’s impending mission had begun to falter ten minutes in. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t suppress the anxiety that filled her belly at the thought of his life in peril. When reading didn’t do anything to quiet her mind, she tried cleaning, organizing, and napping. None of these tasks were completed successfully.
A knock at the door dragged Sloan off the couch. “Who is it?”
“It’s Evelyn,” her friend called from the hall.
Had they planned to meet up beforehand and she’d forgotten? “Come on in.”
“Everything okay?” Evelyn followed Sloan inside. “Where’s Archer?”
Sloan frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“You two weren’t at dinner tonight.”
Oh. Now Sloan understood why she was here. “Archer had to work late.”
“And what about you?”
Sloan picked up her empty wine glass and platter, taking them b
oth into the small kitchen. “I was waiting for him but he never showed. He sent a message a few minutes ago letting me know he’d meet us at the bar.”
Evelyn eyed the empty wine bottle on the counter. “How many glasses have you had tonight?”
“A couple.” Sloan frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“You usually speak rather fast. Tonight your words are drawn out a bit.”
“I’m not drunk if that’s what you are insinuating,” Sloan snapped.
“No one would blame you if you were.”
“Well, I’m not!” Sloan paused. “Why do you say that?”
“Because out of everyone we know, you’re the only one in control one hundred percent of the time. Nothing fazes you. It’s always business as usual. Following the rules. Never stepping over the line.”
“I’m sleeping with Fletcher,” Sloan retorted without thinking. “That’s clearly against the rules.”
“Wow, sweetie. Maybe you should stay home and sleep off your couple of glasses of wine.”
“Ugh. I’m fine.” Sloan stormed towards the door. “Let’s go.”
Evelyn shook her head but followed. “If you think you’re up for it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason. The others will meet us there. Do you think you should eat something before we head up?”
Sloan was down the hall and waiting on the elevator before Evelyn was out the door. “I’ve already eaten Archer’s fruit and cheese tray.”
“That’s not passive-aggressive at all,” Evelyn mumbled as she came up behind her. “Did something happen between you two today?”
Sloan boarded the elevator. “I haven’t seen or spoken to him since breakfast.”
Evelyn skirted through the closing doors that Sloan neglected to hold open. “And you’re angry about that?”
Sloan bit back the words that threatened to leave her lips. She wanted so badly to talk to her friend about what she’d overhead today but she knew that would only put Evelyn in the middle of something she might not want to be in the middle of. “I’m not angry.”
They stepped off the elevator and headed for the bar.
“Then what’s wrong?” Evelyn asked.
“There’s something important I needed to speak with him—” Sloan frozen in the entryway of the bar, as she spotted Fletcher kissing the neck of the combat nurse, Tiffany.
“God. Sweetie, I’m so sorry. Were you two supposed to be exclusive?”
Sloan’s gaze fixated on the couple, cozying up in the far corner of the bar. “It was never discussed. I just assumed since we were intimate.”
“How is that even allowed? Hasn’t she been matched with someone?”
Sloan shook her head. “She’s not an attendee therefore was not required to be included.”
“Are you all right? Do you need to leave? I can make up some kind of excuse for you.”
Sloan shook her head and started towards the bar. “Cab, please.” She sucked in a breath at the sound of Tiffany giggling. “Actually, make it a whiskey on the rocks. Double.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There were no waitresses and the bartender changed often. Tonight it was one of the chefs; tomorrow it could be an engineer. It was a simple job for those who wanted to earn a few extra credits on the side took. When the patron ordered, they swiped their wrist on the bar panel and the computer—using voice recognition—would display the recipe and pull the necessary ingredients. The bartender only had to mix it.
“I’m not sure a double is the answer,” Evelyn said then ordered a martini neat.
Sloan took a small sip. “To be quite honest, I’m not as angry I thought I would be.” And she wasn’t, really. Irritated he hadn’t just spoken to her about his desire to see other women, but not angry. Not even hurt. What did that mean?
“You don’t say?” Evelyn’s eyes flickered to Sloan’s drink.
“This,” Sloan held up her drink, “is about a whole other thing.”
“Archer?”
Sloan ignored the question, afraid if Evelyn continued to press the issue, the wine and whiskey would make it so she couldn’t help but let her secret slip. “Look, there’s everyone in the corner booth. We should join them.”
“Not even going to wait until I have a drink?” Evelyn called out as Sloan hurried to join their friends.
“You missed an exciting afternoon,” Travis informed her as she took the seat next to Vicky. “The whole medical ward was abuzz.”
Sloan doubted that was the case but she indulged the doctor at any rate. “What happened?”
Travis glanced around the room then leaned forward. “I was wandering around the storage area when a couple of uniforms came out carrying four bright yellow, crazy-looking hazmat suits.
“So he says,” Vicky added.
Sloan took a large gulp of her drink. This fit all too well with what she’d overheard in the library.
“I’m not making this shit up,” Travis protested “These things were state-of-the-art, complete with an air filter and built-in oxygen tank.”
“Telling another one of your tall tales again, Morrison?” Sloan glanced up from her drink to find Archer standing at the end of their table glaring at Travis.
“Quick to shut it down, aren’t you, Major?”
Archer didn’t correct his rank. Either that too was top-secret or he didn’t want to bother with the commotion that was sure to follow. “As usual, blowing things out of proportion.”
“I don’t know, Major,” Sloan said. “Sounds pretty suspicious to me as well.”
“Archer,” the bartender called out, “drinks.”
Archer’s brow wrinkled, eyes still focused on her. “Since when do you agree with Morrison, Slash?”
Sloan shrugged and took another sip of her drink.
“All right, then.” He turned towards the bar. “I’m going to grab the drinks. This r ound’s on me.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The first thing Archer did when he arrived at the bar was order two dozen shots of patron. Between assembling his team and gathering the necessary intel, it had been a hell of a day. All he wanted to do now was get drunk and forget about the damn mission.
Then—surprise, surprise—Morrison brought up the freaking hazmat suits. The soldiers assigned to retrieve them were supposed to clear the area to ensure this very thing didn’t happen. Archer would have to come up with a plausible explanation why the suits were being transported. Too bad not a single thing came to mind.
He removed the tray of drinks from the bar and headed back to their table. “Shot, anyone?”
Travis sniffed the liquor and gave a low whistle. “Patron? Someone’s trying to change the subject.”
“Come on, Travis.” Archer threw back a shot and shuddered as fire coursed through his veins. “Can’t you give a guy a break for the night?”
“Hey, man. I just want to know the truth.” Travis followed, coughing when the tainted liquid hit his tongue. “Damn that’s stout.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Sloan scoffed and took her shot like a boss, putting Travis to shame.
Archer nearly dropped his glass. “Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?”
“We all have our secrets. Wouldn’t you agree, Major?”
Why the hell was she calling him “Major”? And with such a tight tone. She hadn’t been this cold in months. “Something on your mind, Slash?”
“Like everyone, I’m curious as to why the hazmat suits were being removed from storage.”
Archer downed another shot. It was bad enough Travis had brought this crap up but was it too much to ask the others—Sloan especially—didn’t encourage him? “Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it is. The suits are used for…cleaning.”
The table grew quiet.
Travis lifted a single eyebrow. “Cleaning?”
“Yes.” Archer’s mind spun. “They are used by those who clean the vents.”
Sloan tilted her hea
d. “Vents? What kind of vents?”
Archer took another shot. This was not the way this evening was supposed to go. He had enough to worry about. “Why does it matter? Air vents, sewage vents. Who gives a fu—”
“Oh. My. God,” Rebecca squealed. “I haven’t heard this song in forever!” She tugged at Travis’ arm. “Come on, babe. Dance with me!”
Travis slunk back. “No way. You remember what happened last time. I knocked three people over and stepped on another two’s feet. My dancing days are over.”
“Please?” She pouted. “I love this song.”
“Ask one of the other guys. Vicky, where’s Alex? He seems like the two-stepping type.”
Vicky sipped her drink. “He’s delivering a calf.”
“And Cavl?” Travis asked Evelyn.
“He’ll be here shortly.”
Travis turned to Archer. “You’re a Texas boy, aren’t you? Why don’t you take her for a spin?”
Archer shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s a great idea!” Rebecca bounced out of her seat, snatched his arm, and dragged him to the dance floor. She forced Archer’s arm around her waist. “Travis doesn’t care about our history. He’s more secure than any man I’ve ever met.”
“Still…” Archer didn’t want to get into a lengthy discussion about this. Instead, he focused on keeping the beat.
“What are you worried about?” Rebecca asked. “It’s not like Sloan gives a damn about you.”
Archer pressed his lips together, forcing himself to keep dancing and ignore her comment. What he wanted to do was storm off, but he wasn’t one to cause a scene.
“You’re a smart guy, Lee. Why do you keep pining over a woman who doesn’t want you?”
Thankfully, the song ended at that exact moment because he was about to leave her happy ass alone on the dance floor. Screw his sense of chivalry. Who did she think she was making ridiculous accusations like that? Of course he cared for Sloan. You didn’t live with a person for a year and not develop some sort of feelings for them. But pining over her?
