by M. K. Dawn
“Do you want to dance again?” Rebecca asked. “Or are you planning on standing in the middle of the dance floor alone like a freaking idiot?”
“Funny.” He sneered and stalked back to the table. God, he needed another shot. Or two. Or ten.
“You make that look easy, Archer.” Travis kissed Rebecca on the cheek. “Though I think my girl here did all the work.”
“We’ll maybe she can give you a few lessons.” Archer glanced around the table. “Where’s Sloan?”
“She left,” Evelyn said.
“What? Why?” The dance floor was near the exit. How had he not seen her leave?
Evelyn scooted out of the booth and grabbed his arm. “Let me buy you a drink, Archer.” She didn’t wait for him to respond before she dragged him to the bar.
“What’s going on, Evelyn?” Archer followed her gaze. His body tensed at the sight of Fletcher snuggled up with Tiffany in a corner booth. “What the hell? I thought Sloan and Fletcher were seeing each other.”
Evelyn tipped her head. “How did you know?”
“Sloan’s not as good of a liar as she thinks. Plus, I’ve been trained to read people. Did they break up?”
“No. Sloan was just as surprised as you are.”
“Son of a bitch.” Archer gulped down the whiskey neat Evelyn had ordered. “I’ll go talk to her.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t. She’s not one to speak freely about her emotions, preferring to sulk in her room for days when she’s upset.”
“You’re probably right,” Archer said and headed out the door.
***
Archer found Sloan sprawled on the couch in their suite, patron bottle in one hand and a shot glass in the other. “Rough night?”
Sloan took a shot. “Rough day?”
“You’ve been bitchy with me since I got to the bar. What the hell is going on with you? This about Fletcher?”
“Fletcher,” Sloan spat. “Why the hell should I care about Fletcher and the little tramp he’s sleeping with now?” She was slurring her words. Not a good sign.
“I know you’ve been seeing him.”
“Pfft.” She took another shot.
“Great argument.” Archer approached the couch as he would a ticking bomb: slow and avoiding any sudden movements. He inched his hand towards the bottle. “Maybe I should just take that and set it on the counter.”
Sloan pulled the patron out of his reach, sloshing the toxic liquid out of her too-full shot glass. “Get your own!”
“I think you’ve had enough for the both of us.”
“This is my body. I say when I’ve had enough.”
Archer scrubbed his hand over his brow and took a seat beside her. “Fine. I’ll let you keep the bottle if you tell me why you’re pissed at me.”
“You know why!”
“Actually, I don’t. Was it because I danced with Rebecca? Because I was kind of forced into that.”
Her nostrils flared. “Why do men always think when a woman’s mad it has to do with love?”
That caught him off guard. “I didn’t say anything about love.”
“Yes…yes…yes you just did. Right now. About Fletcher and Rebecca.” Her sentences were growing less comprehensible by the minute.
“I can’t speak for your feelings, but I was never in love with Rebecca.” Archer’s chest tightened. “You in love with Fletcher?”
“No! He’s…he’s…so old.” She sagged lower until she was almost lying down. “We’ve only slept together a few times. Late nights. Slow shifts. Never kissed like he was kissing that nurse.”
Archer wanted to kill him. All this time he was using her and she’d been falling in love with the guy. “He broke your heart?”
She shot up. “What? Haven’t you been listening? This is not about him! This is about you!”
“Me?”
“What are the hazmat suit for, Major?”
His head pounded. From the tequila or the circles they were spinning, he wasn’t sure. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Oops. I meant Colonel.”
His eyes bulged. “How…did you—”
“Know? Cale has a big mouth.”
That, he knew. But he was also a damn good soldier and not one to blab top-secret information. “He told you?”
“Unintentionally.” She threw her book at him. “I was in the library this morning. He and Jones were having quite the interesting discussion.”
“I assume they didn’t know you were there.”
She shrugged. “I hid. They kept talking.”
“And what did you overhear?”
Anger burned in her eyes. “You can’t go to the surface.”
“Shit.” Archer threw himself off the couch and paced. “You shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”
“It’s uninhabitable. Isn’t that why we’re down here?”
Archer scraped his fingers through his hair. “The best geological scientists in the world think otherwise.”
Sloan crawled off the couch and stood on wobbly legs. “That makes no sense. It’s only been a year.”
“You should probably lie down, Slash. I got this under control.”
She hesitated. “You go up there, you won’t come back down alive.”
Rebecca’s words rang in his ears. “What the hell do you care anyway?”
“What?” Sloan took an unsteady step back. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Archer stalked towards her, the tequila blurring his ability to reason. “It means other than being your roommate, you don’t give a damn about me. You’d probably be happy if I didn’t come back. Have this whole damn place to yourself.”
Sloan stumbled backwards, steadying herself on the furniture until her back was against the wall. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? I’m just a bumbling idiot to you. A trained circus monkey.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never said that.”
“But you’ve thought it. Too stupid to understand anything you and your doctor friends have to say.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Never.”
Archer hovered over her. His heart thrashed in his chest. “Then why throw this little tantrum tonight? What the hell are you angry with me about?”
“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, knocking all the anger right out of him.
“Why?”
She bit her bottom lip and her head dropped so she was staring at the floor.
Archer lifted her chin until their faces were inches apart. “Why don’t you want me to go?”
Her eyes flickered to his lips.
“Sloan?”
Her body crashed into his with such force he nearly toppled over. When he regained his balance, he stood frozen for a second as Sloan kissed him, unable to comprehend what the hell was going on.
Sloan took a step back, her cheeks flushed. “Sor—”
“Don’t.” With a wide step, he drove her back into the wall and leaned down to brush a soft, sensual kiss along her jaw. He squeezed her hips and massaged over her firm, round ass.
Her body jerked and a soft moan escaped her lips.
Desire overwhelmed him. He lost what little control he had left, kissing and stroking any part of her body he found.
Sloan responded, wrapping one leg around his waist and grasping his hair to pull him closer.
“Bedroom,” he said into her lips. After his months-long dry spell, he didn’t think he could hold out much longer.
She nodded and he lifted her off the ground. He almost shattered when he drew her other leg around his waist and their hips met.
With a swift kick, Archer slung open the door and laid Sloan on her back on his bed. He leaned over her for a second to admire her beauty.
She brought her hand to her mouth and hiccupped. Bad sign.
“Oh God.” She pushed him out of the way and rushed out of the room.
The bathroom door slammed and he heard the familiar sound of too many shots reemerging.
His groin ached at the near release but he pushed that aside and knocked. “Sloan? You doing okay in there? Need something?”
“Go away.”
“Hey, it happens to the best of us. Just let me come in and help.” He turned the knob. “Weren’t you taught how dangerous it is to lock the door when you’re throwing up?”
“I’m fine. Go away.” She retched again.
“Sounds like it. At least let me get you some water. Painkillers, maybe? Help with the hangover tomorrow.”
“Please.” She burped. “Just leave me alone.”
***
Archer had fallen asleep propped up against the wall next to the bathroom. He wanted to be there in case Sloan—who refused to leave—needed something.
At six-thirty, the alarm went off, waking him from a restless sleep. He opened his groggy eyes and yawned. Without bothering to get up, he knocked on the bathroom door. “Slash, you doing okay in there?”
No answer so he tried again. And again. On the last try, he began to panic. “Sloan. If you’re in there, you need to answer me right this minute.”
Silence.
“Shit.” He slammed the door with his shoulder a few times until it popped open. She wasn’t inside. “Empty?” He wiggled the door handle. It wasn’t locked. “Idiot.” They were going to need a new knob.
He went into the bedroom hoping she’d found her way to the bed but it was empty too. So was the couch. “Egan, Sloan,” he called into his wristband.
“Yes?” she croaked.
“Where the hell are you?”
She paused. “In the medical ward.”
“Are you okay?”
She cleared her throat. “Dehydrated. I came in to get a saline electrolyte IV.”
“Seriously? I’ve heard of that but didn’t know if it really worked.”
“It does. Quite well.”
He swallowed hard, uncertain of what to say next. What he really wanted to do was talk about that kiss. “Last night…”
“Archer, this is neither the time nor place. I have to go.” She broke the connection.
Great. What the hell had he done? Or more like what the hell had they done, since she was the one who kissed first? He was just the idiot who didn’t put a stop to it. She was drunk and emotional; he should’ve known better.
“Boss,” Cale’s voice blared through his wristband. “Everything okay?”
Archer swiped the small screen. “Yeah, why?”
“Meeting started at seven and you’re not here.”
“Shit.” He glanced at the time. Eight. The alarm that had gone off wasn’t the six-thirty but the every day seven forty-five ‘it’s time to leave’ alarm. “Must have missed the earlier alarm. I’ll be right there.”
“No rush unless you care if your eggs are cold. In that case, I would hurry as breakfast was just delivered.”
Like he gave a damn about cold eggs right now. “Yep. Be there in fifteen.”
After a quick shower, Archer dressed, chugged the half a gallon of orange juice in their fridge, and headed out the door. Today they were to finalize their plans for tomorrow’s surface mission. Any questions would need to be answered. Though they would keep communication lines open with The Bunker once outside, there was no guarantee the connection would hold true.
Archer swung open the door of meeting hall four. It was the smallest of the eight in this wing, with a table large enough for six and a sixty-inch screen on the wall which was attached to the computer. “What did I miss?”
Private Jones and Captain Luis Martinez snapped to attention.
Cale—with feet propped on the table—leaned back further in his chair. “Nice of you to join us, Major.”
Archer slapped his friend’s feet downward. “It’s Colonel, jackass.” As much as Cale enjoyed screwing around, he was a damn good soldier. A man Archer could trust with his life—which was exactly why he’d brought him on. Once they were on the clock, he was one of the deadliest men Archer had ever met. His one downfall: he hated prep work. “Where are we?”
“Well,” Cale leaned back and rested his head in his clasped hands. “We’ve enjoyed a nice breakfast.”
Archer shot him a warning glare. This wasn’t the time for his smart-ass remarks.
Cale’s expression became tense. “Jones and I fetched quite a number of books from the library. We were about to start going through them. See which would be useful.”
“This thing working?” Archer pointed at the screen.
“Yes, Sir.” Martinez pushed a few buttons until the map of New Mexico they’d been working off the day before came into view.
“Thank you, Captain.” Archer moved to the front of the room. “The Bunker is located in an unmarked section of the Fort Stanton-Snowy River Cave National Conservation Area. Our main entrance is located on the north side of the Captain Mountains.” Archer swiped the screen. “The secret hatch—the one we’ll be using tomorrow—is located on the south side, right about here.”
“Where is the access point to the hatch? Inside The Bunker?” Martinez asked.
“Floor sixteen.”
His men studied one another. No one wanted to be the only chump who didn’t know about sixteen.
“No one was more surprised than me,” Archer reassured them. “Haven’t been down there myself. Guess we’ll all find out tomorrow.”
“What’s the surface like?” Cale’s voice broke slightly, a one-eighty from the humorous tone he’d had moments ago.
“Desolate was the best I could get,” Archer said.
Martinez leaned forward. “What about the air? The temperature? Radiation— ”
Archer held out his hand. “The suits we’ll be wearing were created by NASA.”
Cale snorted. “Those hazmat suits brought down from five?”
“They may not look like much, but I’ve been assured they’ll hold up.” Archer glanced around the room. “None of you have to go. This is all on a volunteer basis. Jones, you’ve been quiet. Concerns?”
The youngest of his men straightened. “No, sir.”
“That’s mighty brave of you, little fry,” Cale said.
“No, sir. Not brave.” His child-like voice, thin frame, and baby face made him appear about ten years younger than the twenty-five-year-old he was. “It’s just all my life I wanted to be an astronaut. Boldly go where no other man has gone before like they did in the sci-fi shows. Unfortunately, I wasn’t born in the right era for that kind of space travel. But because of this mission, I’ll get to explore a strange new world. Which is pretty cool.”
Anywhere else—aside from Comic-Con—a speech like that would get you laughed out of the room. Not today. The kid was right. They were about to embark on a mission to a world they no longer knew—the first of the survivors to do so—and that was cool as shit.
***
Archer woke the next morning—the day they were to depart for the surface—exhausted. He would have liked to say that was unusual but it would’ve been a lie. Late night prep before a mission was the norm; couldn’t get some shut-eye until every detail had been hammered out. Every possible scenario had to be gone over with a multitude of solutions. It had been the way of his previous commander—a man he’d admired and considered a mentor before his untimely death.
After yesterday’s marathon meeting, he’d arrived back to his suite just before midnight. He’d hoped to have a word with Sloan. Clear the air, so to speak, about what had happened between them the other night. Since lunch and dinner were brought to them in the meeting room and breaks were nonexistent except for the occasional run to the john, he hadn’t had a chance to reach out to her. Last thing he wanted was to go on a dangerous mission with personal issues lingering in his mind.
Sloan had been sound asleep, which wasn’t a surprise considering the time, but an annoyance. He tried every way to wake her without looking like he was trying to wake her; slamming drawers and doors, walking around with heavy feet. He even resorted to talking to himse
lf. None did him any good. She was either a heavy sleeper or ignoring him. The latter seemed to be the most obvious since him lying awake and breathing tended to wake her.
After a quick cup of coffee, he tried to contact her but she’d didn’t answer. Either she was busy with some important surgical stuff or she was ignoring him. Again, the latter seemed to be the most logical of the two.
He opted for breakfast in his room and then took a shower and dressed for the day. They were told to wear something comfortable but the only thing that would bring him comfort was some kind—any kind—of firearm.
They were to meet on the sixteenth floor at eight a.m. Archer arrived at seven forty-five. He wasn’t alone; a slew of people scampered about getting ready for the day.
Cale was in a far corner, dressed as Archer was in their Ranger combat gear. “Colonel.”
“Really?” Archer sat on the bench beside him. “Going with formality today?”
“Operations day. Tomorrow, you can go screw yourself.”
Archer chuckled, even though he wasn’t much in a laughing mood. “I appreciate it, man.” They sat there for a while in silence as he took in the sixteenth-floor cavern. It wasn’t very big. One side was a room he guessed led to the hatch; the other side, a large pool of water. “What the hell is that?”
“That,” Cale grinned, “is the hot springs. A natural hot tub. Apparently, it’s only to be used by the execs. What I wouldn’t give to get access to that.”
“What the hell do you need access to the hot springs for?”
Cale’s grin widened. “Sexy time.”
“Jesus, man. Is that all you think about?”
“Hey, the missus is getting restless in the suite. She’s a feisty one, I tell ya. The matching gods did something right sticking the two of us together. What about your hottie? Sloan’s got an ass like a—”
“Get your head in the game, soldier.” Archer stood, halting the conversation as Martinez and Jones exited the elevator.
“All your men here, Colonel?” the gaunt scientist with round-rimmed glasses and charcoal gray hair, who oversaw the hatch, asked. Archer couldn’t remember his name. It was something unusual—plant-based maybe; Cedar or Basil.
“All here.”
“Good. It’s a simple process. We’ll go in and help set you guys up in the suits. Then we’ll exit and seal the door to The Bunker. When the green light turns on, you can then open the door that leads to the vertical tunnel. Climb the ladder and open the manhole.”
