Page 70 of Lone Spy

I don't bother texting back, just cross to the door and open it. Ash stands there, taking up so much space it's almost a joke. What does his mother think of him? Is she amazed by his size every time she sees him? Does she still think of him as a boy? There was a time when this man didn’t reach his mother's knee.

"What are you smiling at?" Ash asks, his brow furrowing.

I shake my head, stepping back so he can enter. “I was thinking there was a time when you were tiny. A baby." He turns to me, head cocked.What? A baby?I close the door. Leaning against it. “You're just so big. It's funny to think you were little once. Do you have siblings?"

"Yes," he answers slowly, unsure how I will use this information. "An older sister."

"She was once taller than you." I'm grinning now.

"That's not a fact I'm willing to confirm at this time." His expression is blank but there is a hint, some distant twinkle of humor, behind his eyes.

I laugh. The memory of when Ash grinned at me comes back in full technicolor and heats my cheeks.

His head tips to the side.What now?

I take in a breath and move past him back toward the fire. "What can I do for you at this ungodly hour?" I ask, taking one of the seats by the fire, pulling my legs up onto it and tucking them under me.

"I wanted to talk about security on the hunt. Assuming you're going."

I bite my lip. The hunt. There are ten more guests arriving today. And they are going out after a stag tomorrow. Tromping through the Scottish moors in tweed with rifles and good old-fashioned grit.

Ash takes the other seat, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze rakes over me. “You okay? Something seems off.”

I sigh and lean back into the chair, letting my gaze wander to the molding at the junction of the wall and ceiling—it's ornate like everything else around here. A tribe of cherubs blow horns and shoot arrows around the edge of the ceiling.

"Omar knows…" My words drift off, unsure how to finish the sentence. I bring my gaze back to Ash. His eyes have sharpened. His entire face transformed—it suddenly has more angles. There is not a hint of softness left. Nothing of that boy his mother must have adored. The one his sister could pick up. I sigh. "He knows I'm an asset. And that I'm now a target of my own nation. He offered to help me."

Ash's frown deepens.

"By killing you," I finish.

Ash's top lip twitches—almost a snarl.

"Don't be like that," I say, sighing again. "He thinks you're the one who leaked our location in London, information that was shared with the bombers. And in a way you did, I guess. Because you told Linda." Ash's jaw tightens, eyes chilling, iceberg mode activated.

"Ash, I know you were as betrayed as me." I lean forward, my feet touching the warm rug. "I haven't had any coffee, you know?" It comes out a whine. And a defense.I would have figured out how to say that in a way that didn't make you so emotional if you'd brought me coffee.

A knock at the door sounds before Ash can respond. He stands to answer it. Alesana hands him two mugs of coffee, giving me a nod good morning. I nod back, kind of chastised but, in my defense, Ihadn'thad any coffee.

Ash returns and passes me my mug before taking his seat again, leaning back into the generous chair, and crossing his legs. "What did you say to him?" he asks, voice even, not iceberg, but no fucks are being given out for free this morning.

"I told him not to hurt you."

Ash huffs a laugh—as if Omar could.

I roll my eyes, sip the coffee. It's good, creamy and rich with a touch of sweetness. I close my eyes and rest my head on one of the chair’s wings.

I open my eyes to find Ash watching the fire, jaw tight…it would probably be a more fun game to note when it's not bunched with tension. Those moments where he's not holding back.

I've never seen him in a fight, but I'd guess it's loose then—I bet he's relaxed when he's in combat. When he’s unconsciousness, whether natural sleep or concussion-based.

I take another sip of coffee. When he's on the verge of a smile, that little bunch of muscles relaxes. Maybe that's how Zade figured out Ash's funny bone—watching the line of his jaw. I could see that.

A log cracks loudly, making me jump. It splits, half falling into the coals, shooting up sparks. My heart rate settles, I pull my legs up again. Sip my coffee and shift my focus to the fire. Ignoring Ash.

His attention falls on me; I can feel his inspection as hot as the flames in front of me. "What?" I finally say.

"Nothing."

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