Page 23 of Captive at Rescue Ridge

With that, he took the shotgun and then caught up with Chloe, who locked the vehicle doors with a remote.

Archer grabbed the bag before ushering Annalee back inside the building. It was probably better this way because for the few seconds he’d been apart from her earlier, he’d been racked with worry. “We can’t be apart until this ordeal is behind us.”

Annalee was quiet. At a loss for words? In shock?

Not a good sign.

After closing the door behind them, he set the supplies down and positioned a chair at the door instead of locking it. If his siblings needed a quick entrance, the barrier wouldn’t stop them. It would alert Archer and Annalee that someone was trying to get inside.

Annalee went straight to the west window and stood there.

Not a good idea.

He walked over, linked their fingers, and moved her out of sight. It might still be dark, but her silhouette would be visible from outside while standing there. He needed to get her talking to bring her back down to earth because she’d gone somewhere else mentally.

“Tell me more about you,” he said, trying to settle on just one of the many questions he had.

“Like what?” Her voice came out in little more than a squeak, a surprising contrast to the quiet confidence she’d always shown.

Where to start? “Where do you live?”

“That’s easy,” she said. “Austin.”

He wasn’t trying to trip her up, but her walls were up so high not even a skilled climber could scale them. “Do you like it there?”

She shrugged. “Mostly.”

“What do you like about it?” This was like pulling teeth, but it was a start.

“Live music.”

“Anything else?” he asked.

Annalee issued a sharp sigh. Her shoulders sagged like a deflated balloon. “All of it, I guess. I like the weirdness of the city. I like kayaking on Lady Bird Lake. I like how different and strange the people are—all the festivals. I like tacos, and there’s no contest about which one is better…Torchy’s by a longshot. I stand firm on that one.”

He couldn’t help but smile a bit as some of the fire came back to her eyes. “Do you have a home there?”

“In Austin?” She shook her head. “It’s a great city, but I can’t say that it’s ever felt like where I belong. It’s a good place to get lost in a crowd.” She crossed her arms over her chest as he kept one eye on the window. “The next obvious question is, where does it feel like home? Don’t bother asking. I’ll tell you when I figure that one out myself.”

Ouch. A little piece of him wanted her to say it couldn’t compare to her time in Saddle Junction, but that was just his ego talking.

“As for having a home—no, I have an apartment over someone’s garage,” she continued. “I can stand in the middle of my living room and practically touch every wall. That’s how little ‘stuff’ I’ve amassed in more than three decades on this earth.”

“I’ve never been a fan of having a place just for storage,” he agreed.

“People build lives with that stuff, though, don’t they? Every coffee mug or shot glass collected holds a memory.” She threw her hands up in the air. Being animated was actually a good sign she was coming back. “What do I have? I’m a gypsy with a burner phone. Speaking of which, I haven’t shown you the picture of Owen yet, have I?”

“No,” he said.

She produced her cell and then the picture.

Archer winced as emotion nailed him. He issued a sharp sigh as she tucked her phone away. Anger ripped through him like a rogue storm. He needed a distraction or the fury might consume him.

“What were we talking about a minute ago?” he asked.

She hesitated, then seemed to catch on. “Me living like a gypsy.”

“Traveling light has never bothered me,” he said, trying to unclench his jaw.

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