Page 8 of Saved By the Sergeant

“It feels better.”

“How’s your vision?” I hold up two fingers. “What do you see?”

“I see a bright-eyed, Happy-wielding would-be assassin who could beat Gordon Ramsay in a cook-off any day of the week.”

I blush, and avoid eye contact. “A would-be assassin?”

“I never thought of perfume as lethal, sweetheart but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t on the brink of a respiratory shutdown.”

“I really am sorry.” I hang my head. “I didn’t know who you were.”

Archer picks up a napkin to wipe his mouth. “No more apologies. You did what you had to do to keep yourself safe. You should be impressed with your ingenuity. I sure as hell am,” he says and winks.

His compliment has my stomach doing funny things. But if there’s one thing I know for sure, I can’t trust my gut feelings at all. It’s the reason my life has been turned upside down and inside out. “Why are you so willing to help me?” I blurt. Gizmo prances in, and sits at my feet. I reach down to give him a pet.

Archer sits back and folds his big hands across his chest. “Gizmo likes you.”

“You’re not answering my question. Why are you so willing to help a total stranger?”

He rubs an index finger across his bottom lip. “I’m not a psychopath, sweetheart. So, clear that pretty little head of yours of all the Dexter reruns.”

“You’re evading answering the question.” I take our plates to the sink. “Why?”

“Do you want the truth?” There’s a catch in his voice that has my pulse galloping.

Do I? I swallow hard. “Yes.”

“During my last tour of Iraq in 2003, our platoon was ambushed. There were twenty-four of us. Three of us were taken alive, the rest murdered. We were beaten unmercifully and then tortured. When we refused to talk, we were blindfolded, gagged, and hauled off to Baghdad. They stripped us naked, tossed us into prison cells, and we waited to be killed. We knew it was coming-- we just didn’t know when. Days passed— horrible, long, torturous days. We were shackled and then dragged outside into a makeshift courtyard. Just as a firing squad marched in, Marines stormed the place, and we were rescued.”

My heart races. “Oh, my God. How did they find you?”

“One of the Iraqi guards risked his own life to save ours. He knew there was a Marine unit close by, and he got word to them about the three American soldiers being held captive.”

The image of a massive man in front of me bound and gagged…

“No tears, sweetheart. We made it out alive,” Archer says. "And that happened because of a man who didn’t know me at all… a total stranger. He helped me when he didn’t have to.”

“That’s why you’re helping me,” I whisper.

“Every chance I get, sweetheart, I pay it forward.”

“But you haven’t asked me why I need help.”

“When you’re ready to talk, you’ll talk.” He picks up his fork and grins from ear to ear. “Now, how about some of that peach cobbler.”

He’s just told me a horrendous story of being a prisoner of war, tortured and nearly killed. Yet, he’s smiling like it’s his birthday.

Maybe for the first time in my life, my instincts aren’t off.

Maybe Archer Bentley is genuinely a good man.

A man who I can trust.

4

ARCHER

Geneva smilesat me while cutting into the peach cobbler. I’m thankful my eyesight is back because it would be a sin to miss out on her beauty. With her almond-shaped green eyes, flawless skin, long, thick, dark curly hair, and curves… God, those delectable curves… she’s breathtaking.

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