“Thank you,” Neyla said, striding toward the door. “So when can we meet her?”
Rickert knew when to give up a losing battle and sighed. “Yes, we want to meet…this female…who swept you off your feet.”
Asher ran his hands through his hair. Swept off his feet? How could they know? They hadn’t even met her. Sure, he was attracted to her and had fun with her, but that was all. “She’s just someone I’ve been hanging out with recently. It’s nothing serious. Temporary, really. I haven’t known her for very long.”
“But long enough,” Rickert said.
Neyla gave Rickert a smile. “We both fought our feelings for each other, but the Fates had other things in store for us.”
That was crazy talk. “The Fates have nothing to do with this,” Asher said, shaking his head in frustration. Theirs was an old magic, gone from the world for centuries.
Rickert narrowed his eyes. “She’s somewhere back there, waiting for you, isn’t she?”
“I don’t know that she’s waiting for me. Olivia isn’t the type to wait for things to happen to her. But, the point is, I don’t get involved with women over here anymore, remember?”
Something silent passed between Rickert and Neyla and she exited the cabin. Rickert turned back to Asher. “Is this because of Jenny?”
Asher kept his head down and didn’t answer.
“You can’t let what happened to her prevent you from being with the woman you love,” Rickert told him. “If the Fates brought you and Olivia together, which, from what you told us, they most certainly did, and you fell in love with her, then you should respect that.”
Screw the Fates. Maybe he was falling for Olivia, but he didn’t have to act on those feelings other than spending a few nights in the sack together. If she thought her life was messed up before, with him it would only get worse—and much more dangerous. Hanging around an enemy target was the last thing someone on the run from the army needed to do. Her life was hard enough as it was.
“Bullshit,” he said. “Jenny and our unborn child died because of her association with me. I will not have another innocent person’s blood on my hands because of some feelings I may or may not have.” He massaged his forehead, trying to rub away those awful memories. “Do you blame me?”
“No, not at all,” his friend said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with you.”
CHAPTER 22
The stallion's hooves had been pounding out a steady cadence on the dirt road for almost an hour since the last stop. Vallenberg, the village where Asher grew up, was around the next bend.
He shifted his weight slightly in the saddle and squeezed his fingers on the reins. The blood bay warhorse responded immediately, breaking from a canter down to a walk.
"Good boy." He patted the animal's sweaty neck.
After speaking with Rickert, he’d decided to not to waste any more time on what he had to do. He needed to find out what he could about his sister and accept the temporary appointment of Rickert’s Iron Guild command.
He’d considered calling Reckless before he left for Cascadia to let them know he was going to be gone for a while. Rand was used to Asher’s comings and goings, but Olivia wasn’t. However, the more he’d thought about it, the more he decided it was best to just leave. Conry would be fine there for a few weeks, and he and Olivia weren’t a couple. The sooner he accepted that and stopped acting like they were, the better.
The stallion flicked an ear back, waiting for another cue, but Asher loosened the reins and let him have his head. Many of the small villages and towns near the portals kept horses for Iron Guild warriors to use. He'd be sure to tell the livery where Bayard came from that they'd trained him well and he was in excellent shape.
The first thatched-roof cottage came into view, but Asher kept the horse at a slow walk. Although he was anxious to get this visit over with, he wanted to prolong seeing his stepfather for as long as he could. If he were lucky, the bloke would be away and he could talk to his mother alone. But since he'd never had any luck where his stepfather was concerned, he fully expected to deal with the man soon after he entered the gate.
Word of an approaching Iron Guild warrior spread quickly through the village, and soon the narrow street was lined with people, clapping and shouting his name. It had been years since he'd been home, and yet they still recognized him. He smiled, nodded and waved back. He was struck by the contrast between this warm welcome and how the people of Pacifica responded to their military. There was no comparison.
Unfazed by the commotion, Bayard kept plodding along.
Someone shoved a tankard of ogappa ale into Asher's left hand, while someone else shoved a warm baguette into his right. He downed the ale in a couple of long swallows. Holy Fates, he missed its refreshing, bittersweet taste. Just what he needed after a long ride…and before he had to deal with his stepfather. He bit off a piece of bread and chewed, again grateful that Bayard was well-mannered enough that he didn’t need to hold the reins.
His stepfather’s farm loomed up ahead. Recalling how they’d made no room in the barn for his horse the last time he came home, he left Bayard at the livery in town, making sure the horse would be rubbed down by hand and fed extra hay and oats. Blackstone, the livery owner, and his family were more than excited to help him out. He walked the rest of the way on foot.
As luck would have it, his stepfather was standing in the doorway of the farmhouse, legs spread, arms loose at his sides. News of Asher’s visit had obviously reached him.
“Not good enough, are we?” His stepfather ignored Asher’s outstretched hand. There was no ‘hello’ or ‘how have you been.’
Asher wasn’t sure what the man was talking about. “I don’t understand.”
“That stud-horse of yours too fancy that you didn’t want to bring him here?”
“Last time I came, you had no room, remember? Figured I’d spare you the extra hay and grain he’d eat and leave him in town.”
“So Blackstone and his family can breed their mares to him and not me?”
Asher had forgotten that in exchange for caring for a warrior’s horse, it was customary for the stallion to be used as a stud and mated to the barn owner’s mares that were in season. The last time he was here, his stepfather only had geldings.
Before he could reply, his mother appeared in the doorway. Although she was still beautiful, she was thinner and looked much older.
“Ash! Oh my Fates, is it really you?” She rushed down and threw her arms around him. She smelled as if she’d been baking bread.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, trying not to choke because she was squeezing him so hard. The thing about his mother was that although she was tiny, she had always been strong. At least that hadn’t changed.
She pulled away, held him at arm’s length and looked him up and down. “I always forget how tall you are, just like your father was. He would be so proud. Henry, look at his muscles.”
His stepfather glared at him with cold, hard eyes. “Been gone a long time. How many more half-breed children have you fathered, or do you still have trouble counting?”
Asher lunged at him. His mother cried out and pressed her hands to his chest. He stopped. If it weren’t for her, he’d have thrown the asshole to the ground.
“Go round up the children,” she told her husband. “They’re in the back pasture and we’ll be eating soon.”
Like hell I am. As soon as he talked to his mother about his sister, he was out of here. He didn’t want to spend one extra second around the bloke.
His stepfather grumbled something in the old language that Asher didn’t understand, then stormed off. A small dog scrambled to get out of his way. His mother led Asher to the kitchen, where she proceeded to fuss over him, but she made no mention of his stepfather’s behavior.
***
Moonlight streamed through the blinds of the darkened room, casting wide strips of shadow on the walls. Olivia lay in bed, trying to fall asleep but not having much luck. She�
�d read several serialized stories on her cell phone, played countless games of Solitaire, and brushed Conry several times with what she hoped was a dog brush in the bottom drawer in the bathroom. With everything going on, her mind wouldn’t shut off long enough for her to fall asleep.
Asher had been gone for several weeks now, that crazy slave commitment long over. It had been just a joke, but she’d been having fun with it. Even though they’d only been together a short time, she really missed him.
Soon after he left, Mel had called and walked her through a few work-related tasks she needed to know how to do. Important things like transferring a call to the shop. Checking in a parts order (three or four a day). Pulling up the schedule and making a customer appointment. As she jotted everything down, she could hear random cooing and slurping noises on the other end of the line. Mel must’ve been nursing the baby. She’d delivered an eight-pound, healthy baby girl named Therese just twenty minutes after arriving at the hospital. Olivia couldn’t believe she was even thinking about work so soon.
She’d spent the next few days familiarizing herself with the scope of work they did at Reckless and introducing herself to the mechanics. She was going to have to get over her aversion to loud noises, because that’s all she heard when she was on the shop floor. Revving engines. Compressors. Shouting. Heavy metal music. Although she was very much out of her element here, she was grateful for the job and Rand’s generosity.
Even though she’d been busy and Rand seemed pleased with her efforts, every time she got back to Asher’s rooms, she was too keyed up to relax. She really should’ve moved out to the RV by now, but she wanted to be around his things. At least for a few more days. She lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling each night and wondering what Asher was doing. Those elusive sheep weren’t helping, either. They kept turning into deerhounds, which reminded her of him.
At least she had a set of wheels now. On a whim, when Rand had been showing her how to access the vehicle registry system on Mel’s computer, he’d pulled up her car’s VIN. She was shocked to see it listed as stolen, further evidence that the army was onto her. Rand didn’t ask why or what was going on, though she had a feeling he knew more than he let on.
He’d called James and Tall Paul into the office. “Here,” he said, handing them a set of license plates he’d retrieved from a locked file cabinet in the corner. “There’s a light blue Honda sedan parked on the second level of the Fifth Avenue garage in New Seattle.” He gave them the exact address. “I need to you go down there, change out the plates, and take it to Manny’s place.”
It wasn’t until the two men were climbing into an unmarked panel van that she realized she hadn’t given them the keys. “Hold on,” she called, digging into her purse.
Rand stopped her. “They don’t need them,” he said, a smile flickering on the edges of his mouth.
“But—”
“Trust me.” Then he explained how her car would be going to a garage in town, not here. This was in case a location device had been affixed to the vehicle. He told her it was a reputable chop shop that would give them a fair price. She laughed at the oxymoron.
When James and Tall Paul had returned later and dropped a wad of cash on her desk, she was surprised to find only a few hundred dollars less than what she’d paid for the car several months ago. Not a bad deal at all.
She’d spotted Rand in the break room. Caitlyn was sitting with her back to him while he braided her hair.
“How much do you want for that purple car in the back lot?” she asked.
“That old Charger?” he said, a hairband caught between his teeth.
“Ouch, Dad,” Caitlyn complained.
“Sorry, baby. Almost done.” His big hands grasped another piece of hair and worked it in with the rest. He wasn’t doing a regular braid, but a French braid. Olivia was impressed.
“Does it run?” she asked.
“Yeah, but it needs some body work.” He finished up Caitlyn’s hair, then told her it was time for homework.
A shuffle of footsteps sounded behind her. She turned to see James standing in the doorway, filling up the space.
“I’ll do it,” he said in a low, two-pack-a-day voice. “Gettin’ ready to work on the McMillan car now. Can do the Charger at the same time.”
Her gaze bounced between the two of them. Rand was scowling at James.
“Um, how much do you want for it and how much to fix it?” she asked.
“Nothing to fix it,” James said. “The least I can do.” He held up his bandaged arm. He’d cut himself in the shop earlier when she was out taking a look around. As she applied a bandage, she’d secretly done a little healing. She told him he needed to go to the emergency room and get stitched up, but he’d refused, saying he hated quacks.
“What’d Manny give you for your Honda?” Rand asked. She told him. “Keep five hundred bucks, give me the rest, and the car is yours.”
“Deal.” She was thrilled. She’d secretly wanted to own a muscle car for as long as she could remember.
She yawned at the memory of all she’d done in the past few weeks—new jobs tended to be exhausting anyway—but she still couldn’t seem to fall asleep.
Just as she flipped her pillow to the cool side and curled up again, a key sounded in the lock and the door snicked open. Conry’s tail thumped on the floor.
Asher?
Her chest tightened and her heart slammed against her ribs.
She listened, hardly daring to breathe, as he slipped off his boots and tiptoed past the foot of the bed to the bathroom, then she heard the shower running.
Rand had told her Asher would probably be gone for several months, so why was he back so soon? Had there been a meeting, or was it just an excuse for him to get away? She had no claims on him, but the thought of him with another woman turned her stomach.
A few minutes later, the mattress dipped as he climbed into bed. She pretended to be asleep. He smelled not like his body wash, which she’d been expecting, but of the herbal oil that she’d left in the soap dish. Sliding in behind her, he molded his body to hers. His arm came to cup her breast, but not in a sexual way. More like it was a natural place for his hand to rest. He let out a long, slow exhale as if he’d been holding his breath.
“I’m sorry I left without a goodbye,” he whispered into her hair. “But I’m glad you’re still here.” And just like that, he fell asleep.
Although Rand and the guys had been great, she’d felt a strange emptiness in Asher’s absence. It was as if a piece of her was missing or slightly out of sync. She felt much better now.
The next morning, she woke tangled in the sheets and blissfully rejuvenated. Yawning, she stretched and reached over to Asher’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there. She sat up and looked around. She hadn’t dreamed he’d come back, had she?
Trying not to be too disappointed, she got up and took a quick shower. She dug through a few of the boxes from her apartment and grabbed a pair of black slacks, a black tank, low kitten heels and a pale blue cardigan.
Conry had climbed onto the bed and was now curled up where she’d been sleeping.
“Have I stolen your place, buddy?” she said, laying the clothes out on a nearby chair and sitting next to him. His tail thumped on the bed and he rolled over for her to scratch his belly. “I’ll be gone soon, so you’ll have it back. I promise.” He licked her hand. “You are so sweet.”
The fact that Conry was still here made her think she had imagined Asher’s return. If so, wouldn’t the dog be with him now? She and Asher hadn’t had sex last night, so maybe it was just a dream.
After getting dressed, she put on a little mascara, towel-dried her naturally wavy hair, and pulled it into a low side-ponytail. She left the room, taking care not to catch her thin heels in the open mesh of the stairs. Conry was right behind her. A couple of mechanics on the far side of the garage were already working and waved to her when they saw her, but for the most part, the place was still empty.
Entering the office, she unlocked the outer door and went to start the coffee. One of the guys must’ve eaten breakfast in here because the place smelled of bacon and toast. Conry sniffed around, probably looking for a stray piece of bacon, then curled up next to the desk. Whoever had been here must’ve made the coffee, too. The pot was still dripping, so it hadn’t been brewing for long. Hopefully, it was the kind of coffeemaker that would let you remove the carafe before it was done. She was in desperate need of some caffeine and didn’t want to wait.
She grabbed a mug from one of the pegs on the wall and happened to check inside. Thank goodness she had, because it was dusty. She grabbed another one. Same thing. That’s when she noticed all the mugs had something to do with motorcycles. Funny she hadn’t noticed it before. Born to Ride. I Do My Own Stunts. Keep The Rubber Side Down. Harley-Davidson. SAMCRO. Sturgis 2013. She grabbed a pink one with the Reckless logo, and only when she started to pour coffee into it did she notice it said Ole Lady on the other side.
A clatter of pots and pans came from the door leading to the small kitchenette adjacent to the coffee station. She peeked in and almost dropped her cup.
There was Asher, leaning against the counter, reading what appeared to be a cookbook.
Holy crap. I must’ve died and this is heaven.
His dark hair was tousled as if he’d just run his fingers through it. His jeans hung low, accentuating his narrow hips, and a chain looped into his pocket. With a furrowed brow, he mouthed the words as he read the instructions. If anyone could look dangerously sexy while reading a book, Asher could.
So she hadn’t been dreaming last night after all. He had come back. How was it possible that she hadn’t heard him get up this morning? She must’ve been more tired than she thought. And what happened to the morning lovemaking he’d seemed to be so fond of before? Surely she would’ve woken up for that, she thought with a smile, her inner muscles tightening.
She must’ve made a sound, because he lifted his head with a jolt. His dark gaze bore into her, a symphony of emotions playing across his face and shooting straight to her heart.
Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance Page 73
