“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.

“Dammit, Eve . . .” His face contorted in pain. She knew she was hurting him, but she didn’t let up. She squeezed harder, both to get him to back off and because she couldn’t stand being this close to him again. Not after last night. “Gonna make you . . . pay . . .” His grip tightened on her wrists.

She flexed her muscles on her right side, intent on rolling him over. “Try it, you son of a—”

His mouth covered hers.

Synapses misfired. The electrical message from her brain to her muscles shorted out. He dipped his tongue inside her mouth, and she tasted him, like she had last night. Except this wasn’t a drug-induced dream. It wasn’t a hallucination. And it wasn’t the least bit sweet and gentle.

She froze. Thought was replaced by a hazy, thick cloud while he ravished her mouth, while he stroked his tongue against hers again and again and pressed his body down onto hers. Heat brewed in her belly and shot south between her legs where she held him tight, and she realized he was hard. Hard and thick and already rubbing against her in a way that brought every cell in her body to life, making her feel things she hadn’t felt in years.

“Stop fighting me, Eve,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m not your enemy.”

But he was. He always would be. The one person she didn’t want to live without and the one she’d never been able to fully commit to.

He tipped his head to the other side and kissed her again. This time without the insane pressure. This time with long, slow, deep strokes that sent a shiver down her spine. She opened to him, took him in, kissed him back as the muscles in her legs relaxed around his waist, and slid to his hips.

“That’s it, Evie,” he whispered. “Let me in. You have to trust me so we can help each other.”

His words cut through the sexual haze coloring everything, and she suddenly realized what he was doing.

Intimidating her hadn’t worked. Tying her up hadn’t either. So now he was resorting to using her stupid feelings against her so he could run the show and tell her what to do next. Well, she wasn’t going to let him. He thought he could use sex to manipulate her? He didn’t know what was about to hit him.

She tightened her muscles, shifted her weight, and flipped him to his back. Then she pinned his hands above his head, pulled her mouth from his, and stared down at him. “Do you really want me to trust you, Archer?”