Beneath the Surface (11 page)

But now, she just wanted to go upstairs, throw herself a pity party, and pretend this whole day never happened. In fact, she wanted to pretend the past few weeks never happened. Maybe then she could close her eyes at night without Emily’s sightless ones staring back at her. Maybe then she could stop remembering the brutal rape and molestation of those poor girls in Meille. Maybe then she could stop looking over her shoulder wondering when that assassin was going to find her.

Rising from the chair, her appetite ruined, she closed the lid on her Styrofoam box and set her dinner in the fridge. All out of fight, she found herself unable to meet Asher’s pissed-off glare.

“I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble, and I’m sorry about your hand.” She left the kitchen and headed up the stairs to the loft. As her feet landed softly on the wooden stairs, she heard Asher’s curse echo from the kitchen and the scrape of his chair against the tile floor. “Quinn, wait . . .”

But she didn’t stop. They’d said just about enough to each other for one day.

CHAPTER

13

T
he sun was just coming up over the mountains as Asher cinched the saddle strap tight. It was a little early to be heading out for his morning scout, but he couldn’t sleep and hoped a ride would help clear his head. It had been three days and Quinn was still refusing to speak to him, and although he knew it was probably for the best, he felt bad for lashing out at her like he had. He’d been rude and insulting. His fear for her safety had caused him to react badly—and if he was being honest, his jealousy hadn’t helped the situation.

Now she was just flat-out avoiding him, which was what he’d been hoping for, right? So then why was her avoidance driving him so insane? Even now, just the thought of her had his cock swelling as quickly as his anger. And if that shit didn’t stop, he was going to have a damn uncomfortable ride.

Sure, he talked a big game, and he might have been able to convince Quinn he didn’t want her, but just like Pinocchio, every time he told himself the lie, his cock would grow like that damn wooden puppet’s nose.

Despite his repeated efforts, he hadn’t been able to work her out of his system—and it hadn’t been for lack of trying. But his hand was a poor substitute for the gorgeous blonde that set his blood on fire. He’d worried that getting involved with her would be a dangerous distraction, but at the rate he was going, that woman had him so tied up in knots he’d be better off fucking her and getting it over with. It’s what he would have done four months ago. But it was getting complicated now because, dammit, he liked her. He liked her a lot.

Asher grabbed the hoof pick and ran his hand down the front of Jack’s leg. When he reached his pastern, the horse obediently lifted his leg for Asher to clean out the packed dirt and stray gravel from his hoof. After finishing all four hooves, he bridled the horse, then retightened the cinch one final time before climbing into the saddle. Gathering the reins, he guided Jack around with the press of his knee and headed out of the barn. They weren’t more than a few steps into the yard when a prickle of unease settled over him. He shifted his weight, directing Jack to stop.

Perhaps he was feeding off Asher’s tension, but the animal’s head snapped up, his ears turning forward and at attention—listening. Maybe he sensed it too. Something or someone was out there.

Asher’s gaze scoured the wood line, straining to see into the shadows. Jack pawed the ground and gave a restless toss of his head, requesting permission to advance. Horses were notoriously creatures of flight, but not Jack. They’d hunted enough predators together that if Asher didn’t know better, he’d swear this horse was part bloodhound.

As Asher searched the woods bordering the perimeter of the yard, his eyes kept returning to the east corner. The prickling sensation put his nerves on edge. As he nudged Jack forward, Asher slipped his hand behind his back and pulled the Sig from his waistband. He was about to cut into the woods and flank around the back when a deer bolted out of the trees.

Jack stopped abruptly and let out a snort, watching the doe bound across the yard. It looked like Asher wasn’t the only one feeling punchy today. Hopefully the ride would do them both good. On the way back, he’d flank around and check the woods for any sign, but he suspected he’d discovered the source of their unease. The doe picked at the acorns in his front yard as she meandered west, and Asher urged Jack onto the trail.

He lowered his rifle and took his finger off the trigger. That was close—too close. How in the fuck had he known he was here? It was as if Tate had sensed him up in this tree. If it hadn’t been for that deer coming out when it had and the cover of the predawn darkness, this could have ended very badly for the both of them. No doubt Tate would prove to be a formidable adversary, and he’d do well not to underestimate the man.

He waited a little while before slipping his arm through the rifle’s sling and descending the oak that had become his post for the last several mornings. Though, now that her back bedroom window was covered, he was certainly enjoying the view a hell of a lot less. Quinn was an early riser and a creature of habit. To his luck, she showered in the mornings and had given him more than one teasing glimpse of that incredible ass. Her tits were a man’s wet dream, and he’d bet his left nut her cunt was just as glorious.

It hadn’t been his intention for the mission to take this unexpected turn. He was a professional, and emotions were an assassin’s worst enemy. But from the moment he’d laid eyes on this woman, he couldn’t deny it had turned very personal indeed. It would be a boon, a credit to his skill and talent, to take this woman out from under The Great Asher Tate’s nose. He would have Quinn before he killed her—he’d decided that days ago. And by the looks of it, this just might be his lucky day.

The horse Tate left behind called for its pasture mate. The answering whinny put him a good quarter mile north of here. Far enough he could make a play for the house without Tate being able to reach her in time. It was a calculated risk he was willing to take. He wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of killing the man—not that he wouldn’t do it if he had to, but Tate’s death, under any circumstances other than an accident, would raise a lot of brows, and a thorough investigation. The man was well connected. His ability to walk through the Nisour Square scandal and come out smelling like a rose was proof enough of that. That man had a lot of friends—dangerous friends—who would not take his death lightly. The last thing he needed was for the hunter to become the hunted.

He stayed to the cover of the woods as he made his way toward the house, coming out on the trail Tate had entered, being mindful not to leave any sign in his wake. Traveling the path Asher took from the house, he stepped onto the deck. The boards creaked beneath his weight as he approached the back door. Energy thrummed through his veins, his pulse accelerating with anticipation.

There were so many ways he’d played this scenario out in his head. A thrill raced through him as he imagined the look on Quinn’s face—the flash of terror in her eyes, just like her roommate’s. That beautiful moment when all hope was lost, right before his victims realized they were going to die. There was just something about that kind of intimacy, the connection that tied their souls together forever—hunter and prey. It was the most euphoric, powerful feeling in the world. Nothing could be better, except maybe being buried inside this woman when the realization struck her. Just the thought of it made his balls ache and his cock twitched impatiently, anxious to get this party started.

He pulled the thin leather gloves from his back pocket and slipped them on before placing his hand on the doorknob. The handle didn’t move. Then again, he would have been disappointed if it had. Tate wouldn’t be that careless with his treasure. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d enjoy the advantage. Once Tate discovered who he was dealing with, all bets would be off. How long before he figured it out? A day or two? A week? With any luck this would be over and he’d be long gone by then.

He removed the slim pouch from his pocket and pulled out two metal tools, slipping the small torque wrench into the bottom of the lock, and then turning it left. Feeling no give, he turned it right and the cylinder shifted ever so slightly. Keeping tension on the wrench, he slid the pick in and pushed the pins up, turning the lock until he felt it click.

It was too easy. He replaced his tools and pocketed the kit before turning the knob on the door. It rotated with silent ease. He was about to push the kitchen door open when the light in the hall clicked on. Not wanting to lose the element of surprise, he spun around, pressing his back against the rough-hewn logs, and waited. The kitchen faucet turned on. As it ran, cupboard doors opened and closed. The water shut off and several seconds later, the high-pitched whir of a coffee grinder fired up. The noise would drown out her scream. This was his chance . . .

He turned the knob and was about to open the door and slip inside when he heard the rumble of an engine coming up the driveway and the crunch of gravel beneath approaching tires.

Fuck.
Someone was coming.

Quinn startled when the alarm sounded in the living room. Her heart leapt into her throat as she spun around, the little red light above the fridge flashing the warning of an approaching vehicle. She glanced at the clock on the stove—6:30 a.m. Who would possibly be coming here this early? She rushed into the living room and peered out the window as Asher’s dad’s truck, pulling a trailer full of hay, came into view then disappeared around the side of the barn.

Quinn exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She silenced the alarm and opened the front door, waiting to greet him.

“Morning, Quinn.” He smiled as he approached the house. “Asher around?”

“You just missed him. He’s out riding.”

“That’s all right, I’m a little early. Brought him a load of hay.”

“Well, I don’t know how long he’ll be, but I just put on a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup while you wait?”

“I would. Thank you.”

Asher’s father followed her inside and took a seat at the kitchen table as she grabbed two mugs from the cupboard. “Black or cream?”

“Just a dash of cream, please. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” She handed him the cup. “Thank you for asking.”

“I feel bad about what happened the other day at the bar. I hate the idea of women coming into my bar and not being safe. That Luke Thompson has been trouble since he and Asher were kids. I would have called the police, but—”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she cut in. “Besides, by the look of Asher’s hand, I’m guessing he took care of it.”

Robert grunted in agreement. “Listen, I’m not going to pretend to know what brought a city girl like yourself running to my son’s door, and I won’t ask, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Her eyes snapped to his, finding him watching her intently over the rim of his cup as he took a sip. “You are?”

“I am. I suspect Asher needs you just about as much as you need him, though for entirely different reasons.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell him I was coming?”

At least his dad had the decency to look chagrined. “I knew it’d be harder for him to refuse you in person.”

Well, she could certainly see where Asher got his candidness, though to his credit, his father seemed to have a bit more tact with his words. Settling into the chair, she took a sip of her coffee and then asked, “Why do you think he needs me?” She had a hard time imagining Asher Tate needing anyone for anything.

“The war was tough on him. It changes a person . . .” Robert sounded like he was speaking from experience. “You live around death and violence long enough, you start to forget who you are, and think that’s all you’re capable of. But Asher is so much more than that. He just needs someone who can help him see that.”

“And you think that person’s me?” She hated to disappoint him, but she could hardly help herself, let alone someone else.

Before his father could respond, the pound of horse hooves sounded outside. Quinn was about to rise and look out the window when the kitchen door flew open.

“Quinn!”

Asher flooded the doorway. Her heart kicked inside her chest at the wild look in his eyes. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she saw fear, and something else that gave her pause, but she quickly dismissed it. It was his responsibility to keep her safe. She wouldn’t fool herself into thinking his reaction was anything more than that.

Exhaling a ripe curse that sounded a lot like relief, he scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck and sagged against the doorframe.

Robert turned his head to look from his son back to her and said, “Yep, I do.”

She hated to tell him he was wrong. Asher didn’t care about her. At least not like his father might be hoping. He was just doing his job, and she’d do well to remember that.

“The security alarm went off,” he said in way of explanation for barreling in like a hurricane.

“Sorry, son. That was me.” His father raised his hand. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I came by with the hay a little early. The truck’s parked down behind the barn.”