Page 52 of Asher

“Don’t I know it.”

Lifting her head, Marlowe crossed her arms over his chest and rested her chin on her arms. “I don’t know who sang it, but there was a song with a line in it about one hand reaching out. About saving just one person, and how hopeless we feel because we can’t save everyone.”

“Garth Brooks.The Change.Yeah, I know it.”

“That song changed my life, Asher. I was on my own then, getting by. I worked at a McDonald’s and only made minimum wage. But this old guy was a regular. He used to come in real late, just before we locked up. All he ever ordered was two plain hamburgers. Anyway…”

She stopped, the rest of the story harder to tell. Deep breath. Okay then. “I followed him one night after he left. He didn’t buy those two plain hamburgers for himself. They were for his dog, a pretty yellow lab mix. It had gotten hit by a car, and he couldn’t afford to take it to a vet. He scrounged trash cans just to buy two hamburgers every day. Two cheap, plain hamburgers for his dog.”

Asher’s hand drifted down her jaw. She liked that. “So the next night, after I cashed my paycheck, I went to where his tent was,and I gave him the money, plus a couple hundred I had saved.” She shrugged remembering. “He got mad, said he didn’t need charity, but when I told him where I lived, he settled down, and you know what? I didn’t see him for a couple weeks, but when he finally showed up, his dog was with him and it was walking just fine.”

“Back up a second. Where were you living?”

She winced but admitted, “Two tents from his.”

“Marlowe. No.”

She nodded. “Yes, and the next day when I went into work, the kids I worked with called me out, said I was stupid for helping an old bum. Guess one of them followed me the night I gave him my paycheck. Shows you I’m not cut out to be a spy, huh?”

Asher took her into his arms and against his heart. He was shaking.

“You’re tired. I should go—”

“No. Stay. I mean, please stay.”

Marlowe lifted up high enough to look him in the eyes. “You want me to sleep here? With you?”

A tired smile graced his ruggedly handsome face. “It’s not how I imagined our first time sleeping together, but yes. I want you to stay. Right here. With me.”

Marlowe had no clue how to answer, so she let her heart speak for her. “Okay, Asher. I’d… I’d like to stay with you. Tonight.”

He was still pale. His hair was wet with sweat, and the longish ends curled at his nape. One particular curl lay in the middle of his forehead. Out of nowhere, his dimple showed up and—

Marlowe flew.

Chapter Twenty-Five

He slept. All night long. No dreams. No more nightmares. Not that the one he’d had wasn’t freakishly powerful, but it was only a matter of time before it happened. The crap in Somalia always lay close to the surface. Marlowe handled it better than he expected, but she’d lived in a tent? In Chicago? That was wrong on so many levels. No wonder she was a tough cookie. Holding her like he was, with her curled into his side, her head on his shoulder and one leg over his thigh? Best way to wake up ever.

Doc Fitz would be back soon. She’d peeked in a couple times during the night, just checking, she’d said. Which was gracious of her. Most doctors were strict about visitors just sitting on beds, but this wasn’t your regular HMO hospital and Doc Fitz understood TEAM agents better than most.

Asher was still on way too many drugs. Between them, the massive surgery to repair his shoulder, and his blood loss, he knew he was lucky to be alive.

Marlowe stirred in his arms. Up close and personal, she was more kitten than pit bull. Coming out of that panic attack last night, to find her spread over him, her knees locked on his sides,giving him mouth-to-mouth, was one helluva wet dream come true. What man didn’t appreciate a woman taking charge like she did? Better yet, one as fired up as Marlowe and in the perfect position. Legs spread wide over his cock. Her mouth a luscious temptation he needed more time to explore. Working him until she got what she wanted, which was him breathing and alive. It was too bad he’d been in the grips of a freaking attack. Hell, he’d had her in the best state of mind: hot, sweaty, willing, and ready. She’d been thrilled when he snapped out of it. Probably would’ve jumped him out of sheer excitement if Doc Fitz hadn’t interrupted.

He smoothed his good hand down her biceps and pressed his lips to her forehead, wishing Marlowe hadn’t witnessed his meltdown. Whatever preceded his attack must’ve scared her. He couldn’t remember much, but afterward, talking about Somalia, telling that ugly truth had released something burrowed deep into his psyche that had been stuck there for three years. Until that moment, when he’d told Marlowe and Doc Fitz about Alissa, the only one who’d known the details of that awful day was his best buddy, Heston Contreras. He was a locked vault of secret missions and covert operations. He’d never tell.

Maybe it was time to talk with Heston, though. Really talk about Somalia. Find out which dirtbag bombed that women’s shelter and what happened afterward. Lance the damned infection of a lifetime, and be done with it. Couldn’t hurt to ask. If Heston refused to answer, so be it. All he could do was say no. Asher could accept that. Some ops were off the books.

He pressed his mouth against Marlowe’s forehead again and whispered, “Good morning.”

“It’s about time,” she grumbled, sleepily stretching against him. Damned if every nerve in his all-male body didn’t stand up andtake notice of her supple warmth. Marlowe in the morning was an innocent, fluffy kitten who wanted to be petted, and Asher wanted to pet her until she purred and mewed and… Yeah. That.

Marlowe’s fierce I’ll-kill-you-and-bury-your-body attitude made her seem larger and meaner than life, especially when she was in full-on attack mode. She could definitely reduce a full-grown, highly trained, armed male to tears. Been there, done that. But she couldn’t weigh much more than a buck ten, and she was short, not nowhere near as tall as those robotic, unsmiling super models on magazine covers. Except for her lean, muscled physique, she was dainty.

“What’s a girl got to do around here to get a decent cup of coffee?”

“I can buzz Doc Fitz if you’d like. I’m sure she’d bring us breakfast.”

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