Page 41 of Asher

“Wyatt blasted a hole in the ceiling and roof. Deck dropped an acetylene torch through the hole. While I shortened that spear, he lowered a gurney, and then flew us here.”

Okay, maybe two more questions. “Where’s everybody?”

Alex looked at his watch. “They should all be home by now.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Forty-eight hours, give or take a few hair-raising hours in surgery. Anything else you want to know?”

Yes, Asher had questions, but just waking up had taken a lot out of him and he could hardly speak. “Just one more,” he hissed, tapping his fingers against his blanket. “How’s my girl?”

The corners of Alex’s mouth twitched with a barely suppressed smile. “If you mean Marlowe, she’s staying with Kelsey until we get you home. Even then, she’s welcome to stay with us as long as she wants. Last I checked, the wives were fixing her hair, and Lexie was reading to her, don’t ask me what.”

“She’s touchy about her hair.” Or lack of it.

Alex nodded. “She’s touchy about a lot of things. Marlowe’s been through plenty, Asher. That’s why she lashes out. Your challenge is to be there for her no matter what she throws at you.”

It took Asher everything he had left to nod and whisper, “Harley gave her a dog. A p-puppy. She said she didn’t want it but… he gave it to her anyway.” He was slurring his words by then. Probably a good time to shut up. He gave up the fight and closed his eyes.

Alex wasn’t finished. “Harley has a way with broken dogs and damaged people. Don’t give up on Marlowe. The only tool in her relationship toolbox right now is a hammer, and she thinks every problem’s a nail, including you. You’re going to have to stand up to her.”

“Ah-huh,” Asher replied groggily, his voice thicker by the second. There were more questions to ask. Important questions, like where the hell was Jamah? How many stitches did it take to close all the damage that spear caused? Most importantly, how was he still alive?

Alex wasn’t snarling death threats or orders; which Asher took to mean he’d dealt with Jamah. Sleep beckoned like a heavy drug, and Asher felt himself going down a little too quickly, but, yeah. Marlowe. Kissing her was the last thought on his mind. That and something about hammers.

Chapter Twenty

Marlowe knew why the Stewarts had so many sofas. Those benign-looking pieces of sedate furniture in the saferoom all opened into comfy beds. Every one of them. Guess they really were having a sleepover. Talk about awkward. Lexie and Bradley loved the idea. Marlowe didn’t. Sure, these women were her friends but sleeping in the same room with them? Not her cup of chai. Everything she wore was already borrowed or bought by Libby. Her self-esteem didn’t need another hit. She needed space, and the longer they were stuck together in this room, the more she wanted to leave.

Kelsey and Lexie had just finished feeding Grandpa Stewart. Kelsey put the dishes in the kitchenette sink while Lexie gently wiped her grandfather’s whiskered face and chattered at him like a little magpie. A green-and-white-checkered blanket covered his lap and most of his chair, hiding the pee bag and tubes beneath it. He looked drugged, but Marlowe now knew for sure that he had Alzheimer’s and was lost in his own world. She also knew he’d deserted Alex and his mother when Alex was just a little boy. Something about the Irish mafia in America. Hearing that Alex had been abandoned too, changed what Marlowethought of him. Their stories weren’t exactly the same. He’d still had his grandparents and his mom while she hadn’t had anyone. But growing up knowing your father didn’t love you enough to stay was a hard thing to live with for any child left behind.

Marlowe now wore a foam-tipped, noise-canceling earpiece in her right ear and had a mic clipped to her collar, courtesy of Kelsey. But Alex hadn’t called back. Nobody did. Harley, Walker, and Maverick hadn’t checked in since the last time they let the dogs out to pee. What was going on?

“I need to talk with you.” Kelsey jerked her head toward the bathroom.

Yes, this playroom was large enough that it had its own bathroom, complete with shower and tub. There was also a kitchenette opposite the bathroom. A big screen television and an entertainment center occupied the wall between. Four large dog crates sat beside the entertainment center, two on each side. Closets full of canned food, breakfast cereals, treats for kids, bottled water, towels, blankets, bedding, and who knew what else, lined the remaining wall space. Alex Stewart was one surprise after another. How wealthy was he that he could afford to build a bunker this spacious? Marlowe hadn’t seen any servants yet, but he could certainly afford them.

“What now?” she asked politely.

Kelsey closed the bathroom door and sat on the edge of the tub. “I know you’re not staying in Virginia as long as we’d like, but you’re welcome to stay with us while you’re here.”

Marlowe settled onto the padded vanity bench, because every saferoom had a vanity, right? “I was going to move in with Asher, you know, because I have a lot of healing to do and I have a dogand…” She scratched the back of her head. The lice were gone, but the compulsion to scratch lingered. Asher said he’d watch Darling when Marlowe went back to Afghanistan, but he was injured now and—

“Alex called.”

“And?”

“Asher pulled through surgery. He’s doing pretty good, considering what happened.”

Marlowe held her breath, waiting for Kelsey to elaborate.

Kelsey looked down at the floor. “He saved Alex’s life, Marlowe.”

Oh, crap. Marlowe’s heart stopped. She couldn’t imagine Alex ever needing help.

“Their target laid a trap, and Asher took the hit meant for my husband. That’s why he was hurt. The walls in the mansion were boobytrapped with metal spears. Somehow the guys triggered them, Alex doesn’t know how. When Asher tackled him, the spear meant for Alex went through Asher’s upper right shoulder. He was in surgery for ten hours. The doctors said it’s a miracle he lived.”

“When is he…? I mean, when can I…?” Shaken, Marlowe sucked in a deep breath and started again. “Was anyone else hurt? When can he come home?”

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