by M. K. Dawn
“I’m looking for Dr. Egan.”
“She entered OR two approximately thirty minutes ago with Dr. Barnett.”
Archer glanced down the hall. “And how long will the surgery take?”
“No more than an hour, sir.”
“Is there a place I could wait?”
Tiffany narrowed her eyes.
“Both Dr. Egan and the patient are my attendees.”
“Of course, sir. We have no formal waiting area, but you are welcome to linger in the hall until they’re done. I can have a chair brought in if you would like.”
Archer waved her off. “No, thank you. I can grab a chair from one of the rooms.”
“If you need anything, I’ll be in recovery.”
“Thanks, Tiffany.”
Instead of grabbing a chair, Archer opted for the floor across the hall from OR two. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It was rare for him to have any downtime before dinner, let alone lunch. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d a decent amount of downtime. A week after he graduated high school, he joined the army. He went through Basic, then straight to Advanced Individual Training, followed by three weeks of airborne school, then nine weeks of Ranger Assessment and Selection Process, graduating in the top five percent of his class which green-lighted him into Ranger School. Then it was another nine weeks of hell.
A day after graduation, he was assigned to Regimental Special Troops Battalion and spent years commanding missions all over the world. A few years ago, he was assigned to The Bunker and had been here ever since.
“Major, what are you doing?”
He opened his eyes at the sound of Sloan’s voice. With her scrubs covered in blood and her hair pulled into a messy bun, she stood before him, hands placed firmly on her hips.
“Slash. Fancy running into you here of all places when I know for a fact you are supposed to be on floor fifteen.”
“Fletcher contacted me this morning and asked if I would scrub in on an emergency surgery.”
Archer stood. “A ruptured appendix.”
“Yes. Is there a problem?” Sloan started down the hall.
He followed. “You didn’t let me know you were missing the tour this morning.”
“And still you managed to find me.” She backed into the door of the doctor’s locker room and kicked it open. “Was there something you needed from me or is this just another coincidental meeting?”
“No. I mean yes. I was checking on Dr. Xun, as she is one of my attendees.”
Sloan frowned. “Dr. Xun?”
“Your patient.”
“I think you might have been misinformed, Major. As far as I know, Dr. Xun is perfectly healthy and he is touring floor fifteen as we speak. We operated on a young seamstress.”
His lips curled as he tried to force a smile. Evelyn had set him up to look like a complete idiot.
“Were you not the one conducting the tour this morning? Surely you saw Dr. Xun.”
“I must have missed him.”
“As you do not have an attendee in recovery, I guess you don’t need me after all.” Sloan tilted her head back. “If you will excuse me, I would like to get cleaned up. This particular appendix was more inflamed than usual and we were unable to remove it using laparoscopy. Traditional surgery is,” she gestured to her bloodied scrubs, “messy.”
“Yeah, go.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “Sorry. I guess I’ll just see you later.”
She smiled. “Tonight then.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
“The formal dinner and cocktail party?”
“That’s right.” What the hell was wrong with him? “You owe me a drink since I kicked your ass last night.”
“No, Major. I believe the opposite is true.”
With that quick remark, the door closed behind her and Archer was left alone in the hall staring at a door. Or so he thought.
“Major Archer, what are you doing here?”
Dr. Fletcher Barnett was one of Archer’s least favorite VIPs The Bunker housed. Unlike others he had the privilege of working with, Fletcher was a self-centered, arrogant son-of-a-bitch. He looked down on the likes of Archer and those who carried a rank and not a degree. “Just checking on my attendee.”
“Dr. Egan is here at my request.”
“She is not authorized to practice here. And as I’m in charge of all guests, I should have been informed of her whereabouts. You know the rules, Barnett, as you helped create them.”
The doctor clenched his jaw. “I’m a founding father of The Bunker with millions of my own money invested into this place. With that comes a bit of leeway. Leeway that allows me to grant her or any other authorization to perform surgery if I deem it necessary. Do I make myself clear, soldier?”
Archer’s nostrils flared. “Yes, sir.”
“She will make a good fit for this place.”
His comment caught Archer off guard. Sloan had been summoned by threat of court-martial. There was no possible way she would voluntarily accept a position here. “What do you mean by ‘will’?”
Fletcher took a step back, his face blanched. “Would make a good addition. I must check on my patient.” He scurried off down the hall with a few cautious glances back.
What the hell was that all about? A slip of the tongue? Wishful thinking? Neither sounded like Fletcher. He was a man of few words, each precise and to the point. All these years, not once had Archer heard the man stumble over a word or misspeak.
There was something about his expression, the fear in his eyes that rocked Archer to the core.
“Major, you’re still here?” Sloan reemerged from the locker room, dressed in a clean pair of blue scrubs. “Was there something else you needed?”
Archer shook his head, lost in the possibilities of what would spook a man like Fletcher. “No. I was just speaking with Dr. Barnett.”
“Oh.” Sloan glanced around. “Do you know where he went? He and I were going to have lunch.”
“Recovery room.” He pointed down the hall, unable to push away the anxiety clawing at his chest.
“Thanks.” She pinched her brow. “Are you okay, Archer? You seem to have lost some of your color.”
He ran his palm across his forehead to wipe away the beads of sweat. “I’m fine.”
“Would you like to join us for lunch?”
“No. Thank you, Sloan. I need to speak—” Who did he need to speak with? Who could he trust to tell him the truth? More so, if there was an ulterior motive for this weekend’s retreat, who would be privy to that information?
“Archer?”
“I have to go.” He rushed towards the elevator, ignoring Sloan as she called out to him. He scanned his wristband. “Operations.” If anyone knew what was going on and was willing to speak with him about it, it would be the head of operations, Steven Wu.
***
The elevator stopped at floor thirteen—operations—but the doors didn’t open. Archer scanned his wristband across the panel.
“Access denied,” the mechanical voice said.
What the hell? He was head of security and had access to every square inch of this place.
Archer scanned his wristband again. Same results. “Shit.”
He hit the communications button on his wristband. “Wu, Steven.”
“Wu here,” Steven answered.
“It’s Archer. I’m in the elevator and getting access denied for your floor, man. What’s the deal?”
“Sorry, Major. All non-essential personnel have been cut off from floors thirteen and fourteen.”
The operation and execs floor. “Who authorized this?”
“The execs, sir.”
That made no sense. They didn’t have that kind of authority. “Justification.”
The connection froze for a second then came back. “Lockdown drill, sir.”
“Lockdown drill? I’m the head of fucking security. Shouldn’t I be informed if a drill of this magnitude is going on? Plus, during
a full-scale lockdown, I should still have access to every floor.”
“I can make a few calls, see if we can reinstate your access.”
Archer cracked his neck. “Do it.”
Minutes ticked by. How could Wu not have gotten a response? Archer scanned his band again. “Access denied.”
“Wu, Steven.”
No answer. He tried him again. Nothing.
What was the deal? If operations wasn’t going to provide the information he needed he would go to the source. “Dining hall.” The elevator sped upward.
The room was packed, not an empty table to be seen. After a few quick scans, he spotted Sloan at a far corner table. Next to her sat Fletcher. Archer rushed over, grabbed the man’s shoulder, and whipped him around. Except it wasn’t Fletcher.
“Major? Everything okay?” Cornelius asked. He was military personnel—a pharmacist maybe. An employee, not one of the VIPs.
“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“Archer,” Sloan looked concerned, “are you okay?”
“Where’s Fletcher?”
“He was called into a VIP meeting not long after you left.” Sloan stood. “Why? Is there a problem? Does someone need medical assistance?”
Archer took a step back. Not once since he arrived at The Bunker had there been a VIP meeting. What the hell did that even mean? “No. I just needed to speak to him about something he said earlier. I need to go.”
For the second time today, Archer rushed away from a concerned Sloan. She probably thought he was losing his mind. Maybe he was. A single word, a single flash of emotion from one man should not send him into such a panic. But his gut was telling him something was off.
There were a few other VIPs he was close with and Cavl was one of them. When he reached the hall, Archer called him. No response. One by one, he tried every other VIP he was friends with. When none responded, he tried every VIP he had any type of relationship with. Still nothing.
It was a total communications blackout and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.
He got on the elevator and headed for floor nine which housed all military staff. Hall five was empty as everyone was either at lunch or working to prepare for this evening’s festivities. Inside his suite, he found clothes scattered about the living room. Cale must have taken his lunch to go today. This type of behavior was nothing new; he had a reputation around The Bunker for being a lady’s man.
Cale’s bedroom door opened and his roommate strolled out, shirtless and buckling his pants. “Hey, man. Thought I heard the door.” The nature of their relationship changed dramatically when they were no longer around the other soldiers. Here in the apartment, they were just two old buddies who shared a few laugh and a whole lot of drinks. “What the hell are you doing here this time of day?”
Behind him, Vicky Morrison popped her head out and froze. “Oh, well this is embarrassing.”
Cale looked between Archer and Vicky. “You two know each other?”
“She’s one of my attendees,” Archer explained.
“And I was just leaving,” Vicky said as she slipped out the front door.
“That woman.” Cale shook out his bleached hair. With a long strip of hair on top and the rest shaved, many women had compared him to Iceman from Top Gun. Archer wasn’t impressed with the look but hey, who was he to judge?
“Aggressive much?” Archer added.
“That’s one word to describe it.” Cale grabbed a glass and poured himself some water from the fridge. “You playing hooky? Aren’t you the responsible one?”
“Let me ask you a question. Have you noticed anything odd this weekend? Maybe conversations with the VIPs that didn’t sit quite well with you?”
Cale took a seat next to Archer at the table. “Not that I can recall. Why? More importantly, what’s your gut telling you?”
The two men had worked together for years and Cale relied just as much on Archer’s gut as Archer did. “Nothing specific. The VIPs are in a special meeting as we speak. Ever heard of something like that?”
“Maybe they wanted to discuss the attendees’ recommendations?”
Archer hadn’t thought of that plausible explanation. “There were also a few other things: an uncharacteristic slip of the tongue by Dr. Barnett and denied access to the operations floor. As for my gut, it doesn’t know what the hell is going on.”
“Do you think the good doctor is screwing with your instincts?”
Archer leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That Vicky is a chatty one. She may have mentioned you and a certain surgeon doing a little flirting over the past few days. Plus, I saw the way you were screwing with her at the entrance.”
“What would my relationship with Sloan have to do with my gut?”
“Hey, I’m no relationship expert, but the way I see it, maybe you like the chick and she’s leaving in the a.m. and your gut’s trying to get it through that thick skull of yours that you don’t want her to go.” Cale rose from his seat and headed for his room.
“So I’m losing my shit because I like a girl? That’s a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”
Before closing the door, he turned to Archer and grinned. “What, you think a government conspiracy is more plausible?”
Archer snorted at the ridiculous comment. Then he sat there in the silence and tried to convince himself that everything was all right.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sloan sank back in her chair and watched Archer rush from the dining hall.
“What was that all about?” Cornelius asked. “Major Archer is not usually so…”
She dragged her eyes from the exit and focused on the pharmacist next to her. “So…what?”
Cornelius ruffled his graying hair. “Spastic is the word that comes to mind but that doesn’t quite fit.”
Sloan’s throat constricted. “Do you think something’s wrong? Maybe with our patient? He was searching for Dr. Barnett.”
The pharmacist stuffed an oversized bite of potatoes into his mouth. “Wouldn’t he have said as much?”
“You’re probably right. I’m sure it was nothing.” Sloan picked up her fork and attempted another bite of chicken. Her stomach soured at the taste. “Still. I don’t know Major Archer well, but in the brief interactions we’ve had, he’s always appeared well-balanced.”
“If you could call any man who graduates top of his class from Ranger School well-balanced.”
Sloan feigned a chuckle and excused herself from the table, her appetite lost in a sea of worry. It was rare for her mind to dramatize a situation without concrete proof, but the distress in Archer’s eyes had been unsettling.
When she first arrived at The Bunker, Archer had programmed his contact information into her wristband. With a simple command, she could contact him, but to say what? That she was concerned about him after he left the dining hall with such haste? She hardly knew the man.
Instead, she opted to head for her room and pack. After all, Archer had not entered the dining room in search of her, but Fletcher. Whatever caused him to worry had to do with her mentor and was not her concern.
Evelyn was seated on the couch, book in one hand and glass of wine in the other. She didn’t bother a glance in Sloan’s direction as she passed, wrapped up in whatever fantasy world the words she read took her to. So when she spoke, it took Sloan by surprise. “What? You too busy to say hello?”
“Sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Join me.” Evelyn patted the couch. “Tell me about your morning.”
Sloan took a seat on the chair opposite of Evelyn. “My morning was good. The appendectomy was atypical so the laparoscopy was useless.”
“What about Major Archer?”
The question caught Sloan off guard. “What about him?”
A smile tugged at Evelyn’s lips. “He stopped by, didn’t he?”
“Um…he did. But to check on our patient.”
“So,
” Evelyn tilted her head to the side, “he knew the patient?”
Sloan’s eyes narrowed. “No, actually. He thought the patient was one of the doctors in our group. Dr. Xun, I believe.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Imagine that.”
There was something mischievous about her tone. “Did you say something to him?”
“Maybe.” She sat her book on the wooden coffee table. “He asked why you weren’t there and I was curious.”
Sloan crossed her legs. “About?”
“His fondness for you.”
The matter-of-fact way Evelyn said it troubled her. Did others see their association for more than what it was? “Archer and I have nothing more than a professional relationship.”
Evelyn took a sip of wine. “You may feel that way but I have a sneaking suspicion Archer may see something more between the two of you.”
“I disagree. In fact, I believe the opposite is true.”
Evelyn frowned. “You think he doesn’t like you?”
“Not that he dislikes me, but he too sees our relationship as platonic. Like a sister he enjoys aggravating.”
“You think Archer sees you as a sister?” Evelyn brought her hand to her mouth as a muffled laugh slipped out.
“I’m not sure I understand the humor in this situation. It’s quite embarrassing actually.” Sloan slumped forward. “To be treated in such a way in front of my colleagues.”
This time Evelyn didn’t suppress her laughter. “Oh, honey. You’re so far off base it’s not even funny.”
“Then why on earth are you laughing?” Sloan yelled, much to her own surprise.
Evelyn leaned in and patted Sloan on the knee. “It’s an expression.”
“I don’t understand why you think Archer…likes me.” The words felt funny leaving her lips. She hadn’t used such a term since middle school. “He calls me the most ridiculous nickname even when I’ve asked him repeatedly to stop. He taunts me, shows up out of the blue for no reason other than…Oh. Oh!” How could she have been so blind? “I didn’t realize grown men showed their affection for a woman that way.”
“Some men—most in my experience—don’t mature much in the way of romance past the age of sixteen.”
Sloan squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “That hasn’t been my experience at all.”