Page 38 of Asher

He blinked, fighting his approaching death. Pushing back at the darkness hovering at his peripheral like a lecherous, greedy ghoul. Trying to focus, to see Alex and Wyatt, to know for certain they were okay, but not succeeding. Everything went black. Okay then. He would die like a man, not a whimpering coward. Sluggishly, because his brain wasn’t sending clear signals anymore, he reached out for Wyatt or Alex, before they slipped away, too. He couldn’t see them, but he knew what kind of men they were. They’d stick with him until he passed. They’d notify his mom and dad.

One of the two grabbed his hand with the force of King Kong. Had to be Alex.

“‘S’okay,” he told whoever it was. “Nothing hurts. Got no pain, so don’t move me. Let me go.” Man, it was hard to talk.

Asher knew how hard losing a brother-in-arms was. He didn’t want Alex or Wyatt feeling guilty that he was down. “But Marlowe,” he grunted, fear for her settling in. She wouldn’t understand. Like everything else, she’d fight the poor soul who notified her. She’d curse them, might even knee them like she did him. “I… I shoulda been there, not here,” he rasped, his voice too quiet in his own ears. “T-tell her she’s… she’s beautiful. She’s … she’s gonna…” Deep breath. Damn, that hurt. “…be okay.”

Someone, Asher couldn’t tell who, told him to shut up and slapped a mask over his nose and mouth. He dragged the mask off, his one last feat of strength. “T-tell her I love her,” he whispered to whoever was out there. There was so much more he wanted Marlowe to know. But time? There was never enough of it when you wanted it most.

His fingers uncurled without Asher willing them to. There was no need to fight what was happening. He couldn’t win this battle. His strength was already poured out on the marble floor. There was no calling it back. His role in this mission—in this short, special operation called life—was over. He could do no more forever.

His last thoughts should’ve been for his mom and his dad, but the only person in his mind was the backtalking firebrand he’d saved in Afghanistan. Asher breathed his last for the woman he’d loved since he’d first set eyes on her. “I shoulda kissed you, honey.”

The last thing he heard was Alex bellowing, “Son of a gawddamned bitch! I said right gawddamned now!”

Chapter Eighteen

Marlowe felt whatever the dogs felt. A chill. A ripple. A disturbance in the air. In time or space or… somewhere. Instinctively, she pulled Bradley under her chin. She wasn’t blind. Maverick and Walker hadn’t any children with them, only their two vulnerable, pregnant wives. Judy and Harley’s boys were probably still in school or they’d be here. Grandpa Stewart sat oblivious in his wheelchair. He never responded to anything anyone did or said. Didn’t seem to notice his grandchildren, either.

Given her previous calling, Marlowe had already noticed the massive picture windows in Kelsey’s front room. The glass in those sturdy metal frames was thick and darkly tinted. Had to be bulletproof. A sniper wouldn’t settle for simple glass when it came to protecting his family. Then there was the security control box at the front door. The massive gun safe behind that door. The tiny blinking lights along the baseboards. This place had been designed to withstand an attack. These people were her friends, but they hadn’t come here just to meetWonder Woman. No way. Marlowe wasn’t that interesting.

Whisper and Smoke had also felt that indefinable tremor of danger in the air. She looked to the man beside her for confirmation of her sixth sense. Like the dogs, Harley had gone stock-still, his head cocked as if he’d heard something, too.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” she asked. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, he nodded at Kelsey. She nodded back. Everyone stopped talking and Marlowe knew. This whole come and meet WW was a lie, and she’d fallen for it. Harley lifted to his feet and said, “Ladies, it’s time.”

Kelsey was the first on her feet. “This way, everyone,” she said, pointing in the direction of the playroom.

Libby grabbed Marlowe’s walker and helped her to her feet.

“I’ll take Bradley,” Judy said, lifting him up and away from Marlowe.

“I’ll bring Grandpa,” Harley added.

By the time Marlowe made it down the hall in that darned walker, Kelsey stood at the door to the playroom, acting like a flight attendant on a plane, pointing at who should sit where. Nodding encouragingly. Smiling as if nothing was wrong. Basically, cool as a cucumber, as if she’d be bringing a snack cart and drinks around once everyone was seated.

Lexie was busy picking up toys from the floor, not flustered at all. The moment Marlowe settled into the corner of one of the several sofas in the playroom, Judy put Bradley on her lap. She lost track of who did what after that. She was too preoccupied with the warm weight of the little guy in her arms. An incredible sense of wonder crept over her. Bradley was small and perfect,a miniature adult in every way, down to his eyelashes, lips, and fingernails.

By the time she looked up again, the playroom door was closed and the men were gone. If that wasn’t proof something big was going down, nothing was. Sucking in a deep breath, she asked, very calmly. There was no need to frighten Lexie. “What just happened, ladies?”

She couldn’t help that her tone turned accusatory and a titch acerbic. That happened when people were lied to. This was not a coincidence. This whole excursion had been planned ahead, and the Stewart playroom was a safe room. Probably had steel-reinforced walls, ceiling, and floor like she suspected the entire house did. Designed for comfort, obviously, but Marlowe had no doubt this place was fireproof, atom bomb proof, and built to withstand hurricane-force winds. Possibly Armageddon, knowing Alex. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She’d been tricked.

“Stop,” Kelsey ordered, her tone brooking nothing less than compliance. “I heard from Alex, and we’re simply taking precautions, so stop that pissed-off attitude right now.”

Not what Marlowe expected from Alex Stewart’s meek, timid wife. “When? Why? What’d he say?” she asked as politely as she could, fighting to keep her shit together.

Kelsey pursed her lips, breathed in and out, then replied, “While you were hugging my son, Alex sent me a private call. He and his team ran into trouble. There’s been an injury. He ordered us to take cover. That’s all.”

Marlowe grunted, not buying it.

“You know we all carry,” China murmured. “Well, Marlowe, we’re all wearing earpieces, too. Us wives don’t have to wait for a government official to knock on our door and tell us when something goes wrong. Trust me, this isn’t a drill. Alex wouldn’t have contacted Kelsey if it were. He’ll update us as soon as he can. We’ll be okay.”

“Trust you?” Marlowe asked, still keeping her cool.Acting,like Kelsey, Libby, Judy, Persia, and China. She glanced at Lexie, wondering if that smart little girl was in on the charade, too. Wouldn’t put it past these women if she were. “Why should I trust any of you?”

Lexie shut the toy closet door with a snap that cracked like thunder in the suddenly silent room. Bradley sniffed in his sleep. Thankfully, Kelsey broke the icy silence. “Marlowe, enough. You can fight and argue all you want, but not in my house. Yes, we didn’t tell you everything because we hoped we wouldn’t have to. But no mission goes as planned, there is always a risk, and, sweetheart…”

The moment Kelsey paused for a breath, the second she said sweetheart, Marlowe’s heart stopped. She’d never been on the receiving end of bad news. Was that what this sinking sensation was?

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