She might have growled. She certainly seethed. But honestly, a lot of the temper was at herself because when would she learn? Archer would never stop thinking of her as a responsibility, and she really did owe it to herself to move on, to find a man who could see her for more than just a scared, vulnerable girl.
“Whoa there, rebel,” Spence murmured behind her, having come in during the exchange. “No sense committing murder before you’ve finished your drink.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I see a lot of sense in it.”
Spence shook his head. “I’m not in the mood to bail you out of jail today.”
“Tomorrow then?” she asked, but sighed at his firm expression. “Oh forget it. I hate orange and I think jumpsuits are the work of the devil.”
“That’s my girl,” Spence said. “Always thinking.”
Mike, who’d followed the conversation closely, grinned. “So . . . you’re saying Archer was mistaken.”
Oh yes. Mistaken. On so many levels. And she mentally tossed in the towel. Enough was enough, it really was time to move on from him and get herself that life she wanted. Past time. “I’m saying Archer shouldn’t speak for me,” she said as she took a second, closer look at Mike, who was successful, sharp, and quite easy on the eyes. Sure, he didn’t send her heart rate into the stratosphere, but hey, maybe she could work on that.
“I’m sitting over there, having drinks with some buddies.” He gestured behind him to a table where three guys were drinking beer and watching a game on one of the big-screen TVs on the wall. “They bet me that I wouldn’t be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful woman in the bar.” He grinned. “Wanna prove them wrong and go out to dinner with me on their dime?”
Deciding she needed a second opinion, she glanced over at Spence who gave her a slow head shake.
“Negative,” Spence said. “It’s a bad idea.”
Okay, never mind the second opinion. She turned back to Mike. Being impulsive had never been her thing but there was a first time for everything. “Yes,” she said.
“Oh Christ,” Spence muttered.
Mike grinned. “Great, let’s go.”
“Go?” she asked, having expected they’d stay in the pub.
“Oh, I’ve got something different from the pub in mind, great as it is,” he said. “Trust me?”
“Hell no.”
Mike just laughed. “An honest woman. I love it. And smart too. How about this. I promise you a good time, and if I fail you can sic Archer on me to kick my ass. How’s that?”
“I fight my own battles,” she said.
“Fine. You can kick my ass.” He was nudging her to the front door of the pub, his hand on the small of her back when Elle felt a prickle of awareness at the nape of her neck. Turning her head, her gaze tracked to the back of the pub, where Archer had come out of the pool room, cue in hand, eyes on her.
For the briefest of seconds she hesitated there at the pub door, Mike at her side, Archer in her peripheral vision. There was no expression on his face, none. He was his usual cool, calm, impenetrable self and it was that, in the end that got to her. If he didn’t want her to go out with someone else, well then he should’ve asked her out himself—before she’d changed her mind about him, that is.
“You okay?” Mike asked, eyes on her, seemingly unaware of Archer’s presence.
She had no idea, to be honest. She suspected she wasn’t but that had never stopped her from pretending to be. “Of course. I’m fine,” she said, exercising her one true superpower of shoving her emotions down deep.
Thirty minutes later she found herself boarding a helicopter for a tour of the city. She’d never done anything like it in her entire life and she could feel her heart pounding in her throat excitedly as they rose straight up into the air.
Mike, sitting next to her, proved to be a great tour guide. He showed her a view of San Francisco she’d never seen from this angle before. The Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, Fisherman’s Wharf . . . They even flew above Point Reyes, where she could see the entire mountainside covered in a blanket of greens and oranges and browns, the cliffs rolling toward the sea. Sunlight glinted off the deep blue ocean.
And then halfway through their hour of flight time, the pilot spoke privately to Mike through their comms.
“What’s wrong?” Elle asked as they turned back.
Mike smiled but it was a wry one. “You absolutely certain that you’re not taken?”
“Of course I’m sure!”
He reached for her hand. “The heli belongs to an influential businessman buddy of mine, one who hires Archer’s company for his security.”
She had a bad feeling about this. “And?”
“And suddenly this chopper is needed elsewhere. I think Archer shut us down.”
Whelp, that did it. She was going to have to find a way to look good in an orange jumpsuit after all because she was indeed going up for murder one.
Mike was a good sport about it, so good that when he brought her home, she let him kiss her goodnight. She stilled at the touch of his mouth, soft yet firm on hers, willing herself to get lost in the connection. His mouth was warm and very nice as it brushed over hers. He had some serious talent, but then again, players usually did. It was lovely and even caused a few little sparks as he shifted his nice, hard body into hers.
But no wildfire.
Dammit.
When Mike pulled back, there was nothing but good humor in his gaze. “Thanks for trying,” he said, and with a last brush of his mouth over her cheek, he was gone.
Elle watched him drive away and then pulled out her phone.
When Archer’s phone went off he was lying flat on a four-story roof in the Mission District. He had a pair of binoculars up to his face and was watching for a high dollar skip in the building across the street—most definitely not needing the chopper he’d called back.
He didn’t have to look at the phone to see who the text was from—it shook with the fury that could belong to only one woman.
Elle.
He ignored it while thoughts of her invaded his mind, as they’d been doing for so long now that he should’ve been used to it. He’d tried to train himself over the years to not think about her, and he’d mostly succeeded. Until last year when he’d found out she’d been let go from a job because she’d refused to sleep with her boss. That hadn’t been the official reason she’d been terminated; she’d been officially fired for accessing files above her authorization level and breaching her confidentiality contract when she’d allegedly “accidentally” forwarded company emails outside the company.
Technically true, but Archer knew the real story. After Elle had refused to sleep with her scumbag boss, he’d threatened to fire her. This hadn’t helped Elle’s lack of trust in authority figures in the least, and instead of going to HR, she’d taken matters into her own hands. As collateral and protection, she’d forwarded emails between the scumbag and his mistress . . . to his wife.
How did Archer know all this? Because he’d been watching over her. Yes, he’d invaded her privacy, and yes, he was clearly a very sick man. He didn’t care. He’d long ago realized he couldn’t help himself when it came to her.
Just like when Spence had first bought the Pacific Pier Building. It’d taken little to no effort to talk him into hiring Elle for the general manager position. After all, she really was excellent at her job.
He’d never told her about his involvement, nor did he plan on ever telling her. He valued his life more than that. Besides, he’d actually believed that after all that time of keeping his distance from her, he’d have no problem keeping his hands off her once she was in the building. He told himself he was giving her a real chance at living a full, happy life, including finding a man she could relax with, a man who hadn’t once seen her at her most vulnerable.
In truth, keeping his distance had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He hated himself for desiring her as much as he did. Now and then. She’d been a kid for God’s sake. He’d had no business wanting her at all. It’d made him work doubly hard at keeping her safe over the years. Safe for life, he’d promised himself. She deserved that after such a rough start. So yeah, the illusion of distance had become his best friend.