Page 56 of Asher

“I, ah, well, err… me?”

Asher looked down at the flustered woman at his side. A smile curled his lips. Marlowe intimidated could be a good thing. But it could also be bad.

“Yes, you,” Alex replied. “Indoor range. I’ll be back with a pistol at fifteen hundred hours. Be ready.”

“Ah, ah…”

Marlowe speechless was another amusing sight to behold.

“Relax. Fifteen hundred is three o’clock. He’ll bring everything you’ll need, ear protection, too,” Asher murmured.

“Ear protection? Oh, like earplugs?”

“Like a noise dampening headset so you can hear his instructions.”

“Well…” Her eyes shot to Alex.

Asher had now seen Marlowe angry, vengeful, poised to fight, speechless, and glaring down at him with vicious triumph in her eyes, make that, eye. That time in the cave. But seeing her rattled and unsure of herself, maybe even teachable, was a first. He smoothed his hand down her arm and settled it on her hip. “I wish I could go with you but—”

“But you are going back to your room, right now. Don’t argue with me,” Doc Fitz ordered.

She was on her feet, aiming for him. Marlowe looked up at Asher. He ducked his head and kissed her full on her mouth while he could. He’d heard Alex laugh at her before. Heard what he’d said,“Son of a bitch, you are the one, aren’t you?” This kiss was Asher’s answer. Marlowe was the one. And now, he was going to limp out of there and stagger back to his room. Madehim feel like a disobedient teenager being confined to quarters, but it was what it was.

He’d no sooner lifted to his feet when Alex had a firm grip on his left arm and the tiny woman he’d rescued just weeks ago had his right. Together, Marlowe and Alex escorted Asher around the corner and back to his bed. Talk about embarrassing. But they worked well together—this time. Neither bossed the other during the entire five-minute walk.

Asher sank into bed, grateful to be on his back. He listened while Doc Fitz thanked Alex for visiting, then while Marlowe thanked him for the job offer and made sure he’d meant three o’clock today for practice. Today? Yes, today.

The overhead lights finally went off. Good thing because Asher was already struggling to stay awake. No sense in it. The last thing he felt was Marlowe climbing into his bed and snuggling under his left arm. “Soon. Very soon,” he murmured.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Marlowe hadn’t hit that bullseye. Couldn’t, not even once. Was lucky she’d hit the outermost circle on the stupid target way… down… there. At the opposite end of this lane, or whatever Alex called this narrow stretch of mission impossible.

They were at the TEAM’s indoor range, one floor up from the medical floor, in this humongous TEAM complex. She was starting to think Alex was only teaching her how to shoot to make her look stupid. She was doing a bang-up job of it. The pistol he gave her was heavy, and her arm shook holding it straight out in front. The military men and women she’d seen in Afghanistan all had bigger, heavier guns and they’d been wearing plenty of other gear. Why couldn’t she manage the weight of one gun? Plus, they’d probably worn some kind of protective armor. That must’ve been heavy. Were they all bulked up under those dusty uniforms, fatigues? She didn’t even know what they called those camouflaged get-ups they all wore, and she was tired of pretending to care. But Asher wanted her to learn how to shoot, and she wanted to please him, so…

Shit.She fired again and, just as quickly, missed the bullseye.

“Don’t forget to cradle your right hand with your left,” Alex reminded her, for like, the hundredth time. “It’ll stabilize your grip. Keep your hand from shaking.”

Blinking the sweat out of her eyes, Marlowe held back another F-bomb and did as instructed. That was another thing. Having this big brute of a man’s voice in her ear was waaaaay too intimate. Felt like he was breathing over her shoulder. Watching her every move. Like a vulture.

She lowered her quivering shooting arm, kept the pistol pointing down range, thumbed the button to release the magazine, but damn. It stuck. Either that, or she was a weakling. She thumbed that release button harder, needing to prove herself.

“Excuse me, Boss, but maybe this pistol will fit her hand better.”

Marlowe knew that male voice from somewhere, couldn’t place it as irritated as she was. This was Alex’s fault. He was making her nervous on purpose.

“I think you may be right, Beau,” Alex drawled. “Give it a try.”

Beau?

Instantly furious, Marlowe pivoted on the balls of her feet, now in stylish low-cut boots that fit perfectly but did nothing for her temper. Alex had brought her a complete TEAM outfit to wear for this indoor range debacle. Shit! She looked just like a miniature version of Doc Fitz’s husband. The man who’d wanted Asher to punch her. That voice was his and he was wearing the same outfit, only bigger. A lot bigger.

“Down range!” Alex snapped, pointing to the alley she’d just stepped away from.

“What?” she snapped back at him.What now?

“Point your piece down range,” he bellowed, still pointing like she was an idiot, “and do it now! Never face away from your stand with a weapon in your hand.”

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