Page 175 of The Archer Brothers

CHAPTER3

EVAN

My therapist says I need to rebuild my bond with Nate, which I get. We’re twins, and the connection between us is unbreakable. Not to mention, he’s my right-hand man when it comes to my security business. I get why things happened the way they did, but that doesn’t make facing him any easier. When it comes to combat and protecting our families, Nate and I see eye-to-eye, but when Ryley and EJ are in the mix—that’s when I have an issue. I don’t want to share them with my brother, even though he’s very much been a part of their lives. It’s a hard road to travel right now.

I’m staring at the brown, nondescript clapboard building of a shooting range where the guys and I are meeting today when Nate pulls into the parking spot to my right. This is part of my bonding exercises with my brother—shoot guns and play GI Joe for a few hours. Honestly, after the bridal shower the other day, I need this. As much as I loved being at the shower for Ryley, I need to recharge my man card.

Nate and I get out of our respective vehicles at the same time and meet in front of my truck. We don’t hug. It’s not because I don’t want to because I think part of me does. It’s because hugging him seems awkward right now. Instead, I say. “Hey, how was your flight?”

Nate splits his time between here, Washington D.C., where my security firm has a field office set up, and Las Vegas, where Cara is on assignment, likely trying to take down some mafia syndicate or infiltrate some underground gambling operation. She’s reticent about what she’s doing, and if Nate knows anything, he doesn’t say. Personally, I think Cara has the coolest job and one I wouldn’t mind having.

“Not too bad,” he says. “I flew to Vegas to see Cara and then drove here. The drive is nice. I find it peaceful.”

“So, I take it Cara didn’t come back with you?” Ryley expected to see Cara at the bridal shower even though her RSVP came in as a maybe. We knew Nate wouldn’t make it, and I can’t really say if I missed him or not. This situation we’re in is odd. Technically, I’m his boss, and I trust him with my business. But when it’s personal, my feelings toward my brother are all over the place.

Nate shakes his head and looks away from me. The temptation to ask him if everything is okay sits at the tip of my tongue, but I bite back my question. Do I want to know if they’re having trouble? No, I don’t think I do, but only because I don’t want Ryley to know. The jealousy I feel when it comes to my fiancée and my brother is genuine and uncomfortable. As Nate’s brother, though, I should ask him and offer some advice if it's warranted. Not that I have much to offer, but it’s the brotherly thing to do.

“Cara’s working,” he says as he shuffles his foot over a pebble. “This case she’s on . . . it’s a tough one. I wish I could help her.”

“Can we help her?” I ask. Cara did a lot for us after my team returned from Cuba and was instrumental in helping us figure out what the hell had happened in the six years I was gone.

“Possibly,” Nate says. “I’ll ask her and see what we can offer. I suppose having access to a couple of CIA liaisons isn’t a bad thing.”

“Can’t hurt.” I turn at the sound of someone pulling in. Justin Rask waves from the passenger side of McCoy’s truck. I glance back at my brother and lean closer. “Ry seems to think Rask and Tink have something going on.”

Nate blanches and then pales. We make eye contact and stare at each other. His thoughts are probably the same as mine—we need to put a stop to this—but then I remember she’s not the teenage girl we used to chase boys away from. However, this situation might be different. The man in question is Rask, and I know what he’s been through. Life has not been easy for him since our return, and he still struggles emotionally. I don’t want my sister involved with that kind of shit.

“She’s not old enough to date,” Nate says as he stares into the cab of McCoy’s truck.

I laugh. We used to say this all the time when someone dared to ask Livvie out. “Sadly, she is.”

“Lies.” Nate shakes his head. “We can finish this later.” He nods toward McCoy’s truck, where the guys are heading toward us with their carrying cases slung over their shoulders. McCoy and Rask hug Nate, making me feel two feet tall. Nate and I should’ve made a better effort.

The four of us make our way into the range. McCoy tells us this place has gone through a massive renovation and has been expanded to include an obstacle course. It just so happens that the four of us are dressed in tactical gear—it’s almost as if we don’t own any other clothes.

Inside, Nate and I stop and take everything in while McCoy and Rask continue toward the counter. “Holy shit,” I mutter while Nate replies, with “Uh huh.”

The central part of the store is laid out with pistols, dozens of rifles (even pink ones), ammunition, holsters, and targets. My eyes land on the section called tactical gear, and I feel a little joy in my heart. I elbow Nate and nod in that direction.

“Nice,” he says quietly. I don’t need any new gear, but that won’t stop me from buying it.

McCoy motions for us to follow him to the back. A buzzer sounds, and the door clicks, signaling us to go in. We step into a room, and we’re told to wait until the red light comes on before entering the range. Once it does, we walk in, and each of us finds an empty station. Nate and I end up next to each other, which is fine. Being twins means we end up gravitating toward each other, even if we don’t mean to. It takes me a few minutes to set up my rifle and make sure my ears are covered, before the light turns green. I fire at my target in rapid succession until I’m satisfied. I press the button to bring my target toward me for inspection and marvel at my work.

After a couple of rounds, the owner comes in and asks McCoy to come with him because he has something to show him. The rest of us tag along. It’s mostly out of fear. We trust no one these days.

The owner takes us to the end of the corridor and through a private door. We’re outside, and the obstacle course is before us. “No live ammo out here,” he says.

I almost want to say duh, but I hold back my sarcastic remark.

“It’s not open to the public yet, but a couple of your buddies have been here to give it a test run. When I bought this land, I knew I wanted a course back here that would be worthy of the military.”

“When can we take a stab at it?” Rask asks.

“Anytime you want. I think, for now, it’s going to remain private,” the owner says. It makes me wonder why he wants to do that. With his setup, one would think people would clamor to come here and pretend.

“We’ll definitely try it out next time,” Tucker says. I open my mouth to say we want to try it now, but this could be one of those foot-in-mouth situations. We follow the owner back in, grab our gear, and take care of the necessary ammo checks before heading out to our vehicles.

“Magoo’s?” Tucker asks.

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