Beneath the Surface (19 page)

CHAPTER

22

Q
uinn hadn’t slept the entire night, though she feigned it now as she felt Asher stir beside her. After several rounds of mind-blowing sex, he’d finally pulled her against him somewhere around 4:00 a.m. and drifted off to sleep. She hadn’t expected him to stay—never thought for a moment that he’d be capable of this kind of intimacy or affection. Oh, she’d known he could fuck like a rock star, and he’d definitely lived up to the expectation, but what was she supposed to do with this? What did it mean?

It didn’t matter, she told herself, shutting down the sprig of hope blooming in her heart. It changed nothing. The man hunting her was still out there and she needed to run. Every minute she delayed was another minute she put Asher at risk. She just couldn’t do it anymore. Besides, for all she knew, he’d just felt sorry for her last night. She’d gone to him in tears and practically begged him to sleep with her. She had probably been a pity fuck—nothing more. Her emotions were messing with her judgment, making her read something into things that weren’t there. He’d no doubt be relieved to have her gone. Lord knows, she hadn’t been easy to live with. And she’d nearly gotten him killed. What guy in his right mind would actually want her to stay after that? No, it was better this way—for everyone.

Asher’s arm slipped away from her chest, their legs untangling as he rolled onto his back and stretched. Despite her hammering heart, she kept her breaths slow and even. Would he try to wake her for one more bout of amazing sex, or just slip away like it never happened? She got her answer a moment later when the mattress dipped and the covers shifted. Cool air kissed her backside as he rose. A moment later she heard the soft click of the bathroom door and a few seconds after that, the shower turned on.

Shoving aside the sharp pang of regret, Quinn rallied her walls around her breaking heart and focused on the task at hand—survival. Tossing back the covers, she crawled to the edge of the bed and froze. Condom wrappers littered the floor like confetti. The irony of the wisecrack she’d made to him the day she arrived wasn’t lost on her.

Oh, no . . . I’ve become
that
woman
.

Ignoring the embarrassment flushing her face, she quickly dressed and headed for the closet to retrieve the duffle bag she’d purchased the day she’d gone shopping. She grabbed her stack of articles and notes off the laptop and put them in the bag before turning to the dresser to pack her clothes. She moved fast, carelessly stuffing the items inside. She wanted to be packed, downstairs, and ready to go before Asher came out of the bathroom. This was going to be hard enough as it was. She didn’t want to make it any more difficult or awkward by being in here when he came out.

Quinn pulled open the last drawer and grabbed a fistful of panties. She was about to stuff them into the bag when she heard the sharp report of Asher’s deep voice fire off behind her.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Her gaze shot to his, then went back to her task. He looked pissed. Steeling her determination, she notched her chin and answered with more bravado than she felt. “I’m leaving. I decided last night it isn’t fair what I’ve done to you. I should never have pulled you into this.”

“You had no problem dragging me into this a week ago,” he challenged. “So what’s changed?”

“A week ago I didn’t care about you.” She grabbed her bras and shoved them into the bag. “A week ago you were just some jackass I met at my sister’s wedding.”

He let out a harsh bark of laughter that held no amusement. “Quinn, I hate to break it to you, but I’m still some jackass you met at your sister’s wedding.”

It wasn’t true. He was so much more than that, and if nothing else, he was
her
jackass now, and she couldn’t live with herself if something happened to him.

“And last night was what? A sayonara fuck, payment for services rendered?”

She winced. Ouch, that hurt . . . his words were just as sharp as his tone.

“A little late for second thoughts, don’t you think, Quinn? If you honestly believe I’m just going to let you walk out of here, you’re out of your goddamn mind. Despite what happened last night with that accident, you’re still safer here than anywhere else. We’re going to see this through together. And when it’s over, you’ll be free to go. But until then, you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

“When it’s over, you could be dead! And this isn’t your decision. I hired you, I can fire you.”

“You’re not paying me!”

“I almost got you killed!” She blinked back the sting of impending tears, knowing the minute she lost the battle, they weren’t going to stop. There would be plenty of time for them later. “He’s found me, Asher. Last night was no accident!”

“You don’t know that, Quinn.”

“Yes, I do! And so do you. I heard you talking to your dad so don’t you dare stand there and lie to me.”

“What are you going to do, Quinn? Where do you think you’re going to go?”

She didn’t know. She hadn’t gotten that far. All she knew was that she couldn’t live with Asher’s death on her hands. Emily’s was bad enough.

“You know what I think? I think you’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared. I’m freaking terrified.”

“Not about that, about us.”

“About us?”

“You’ve been pushing me away every chance you could since the day you got here.”

“Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. I-Don’t-Care-About-You.”

“I never said I
didn’t
care. I said I
couldn’t
care.”

“Semantics.”

“I think you’re scared to let someone in, and after what happened between us last night, you’re afraid that if you stay, you might actually have to admit you have feelings for me. Well, let me tell you, Quinn, you can’t keep running forever. Eventually you’re going to have to trust someone.”

Oh, that was low. Now he was playing dirty—giving her false hope that last night was something more to him than a convenient fuck. Who the hell was he kidding? Asher Tate didn’t do serious relationships. She knew it. Hell, even his family knew it. That was why they’d been so shocked to see her at the barbecue.

“I thought you didn’t do casual sex, Quinn.”

“And I thought you didn’t do relationships.”

“You’re just going to walk away from this, pretend it didn’t happen? That
this
isn’t happening?”

“You’ve been more than clear from the first day I got here that you didn’t want—” she waved her hand in between them “—
this
. Don’t try to manipulate me into thinking that this was more to you than it really was so that I’ll stay.”

His brows popped up with surprise and he walked toward her—stalked was more like it. Her pulse quickened, adrenaline lit her veins. She felt like a cornered rabbit. He was completely naked except for the towel wrapped low around his hips, the split stretching farther up the inside of his thigh with each determined step.

“You think you know me so well, do you? Then tell me, what was this?”

His voice was a low, husky growl that sent goose bumps erupting over her flesh. Her nerve endings began to tingle in response to his nearness, the delicious soreness between her legs an all too fresh reminder of what this was—explosive, consuming, mind-blowing . . .

Despite his anger—and make no mistake, he was furious—he was also aroused. She could see the evidence of it tenting the terry cloth between his long, muscular legs—a dangerous combination that both frightened and excited her.

Tamping down the feminine awareness lighting her up, she ignored the ache blooming in her core and the temptation to experience heaven in his arms one more time. Because without a doubt, she’d never come close to having this kind of passion with another man as long as she lived, and that thought alone nearly crumbled her resolve.

“It was . . .” She scrambled to find the right words. She wouldn’t tell him what it had meant to her. Those emotions belonged to Quinn and Quinn alone. She wouldn’t further expose herself by telling him she’d fallen in love with him and that if she didn’t leave now, she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to do it later. “It was a mistake.”

His brows tightened, the little muscle in his jaw ticked. He was seriously pissed off.

“It was a moment of weakness, on both our parts,” she continued to explain, but the more she talked the angrier he looked, and the closer he came. She took another step back and connected with the wall. Trapped . . .

Oh, shit . . .

He planted his palms against the logs on each side of her head, caging her with his arms. She stared up into his eyes, unable to look away from that mesmerizing kaleidoscope of color glaring down at her. Ropes of flesh-covered muscle surrounded her. The heat radiating off his bare skin set her on a slow boil. Her pulse was hammering inside her chest, everything feminine inside her humming with desire. She wanted to run and to throw herself into the safety of his arms at the same time. Why was he doing this to her? Why wouldn’t he just let her go?

“It was more than that and you know it.” He was so close she could smell the clean, masculine scent of his soap. “You’re not going anywhere and don’t you dare try to run from me, Quinn. There’s a goddamn killer out there and until I find him, you’re stuck with me. You got it?”

All she could do was numbly nod like some freaking bobblehead, too shocked by his words to manage anything more than that. Lowering his head, he stopped just before their lips touched. Hers parted in invitation; she could almost taste the mint of his toothpaste on her tongue.

“What happened between us wasn’t a mistake,” he growled. “And until you’re willing to admit it, it isn’t going to happen again.”

He dropped his hands and spun away, leaving her standing there in jaw-dropping shock. Was he serious? Was he really going to just walk away from her like that? Guess so . . .

He didn’t cast another glance her way as he shamelessly dropped his towel and made a bare-assed trek across the bedroom to the dresser. She couldn’t tear her eyes off the visual feast—wide, muscular shoulders tapering to a trim, narrow waist. Not a spare ounce of flesh was on that man’s body. His ass was perfection, with muscled dimples in each cheek that flexed with each step.

Did he really believe what he’d just said? That last night wasn’t a mistake? If so, then what did he think it was? If she swallowed her pride and caved to his demand, would he take her back to his bed and prove it to her? Just the thought of being in his arms again had moisture gathering between her legs.

But Quinn wasn’t a fool. She’d learned a long time ago not to take a man at his word. Guys said whatever they had to say to serve their own purpose at the moment, and she’d be a naïve idiot to believe Asher was any different. Especially when he’d told her to her face he couldn’t care about her, and confirmed just as much last night to his father.

Bottom line, she may trust Asher with her life, but she didn’t trust him not to break her heart. And the sad truth was, as much as she wanted the pleasure only he could give her, she desired the connection to his heart more. She wanted him to hold her in his arms, to tell her she was the only one—that he loved her . . . And those were dangerous desires, because she wasn’t sure that Asher Tate was capable of that kind of emotion.

He wanted her to admit this wasn’t a mistake, but she couldn’t do that, because it very well may have been the biggest mistake of her life. She feared that in giving him her body, she might have just lost her soul.

CHAPTER

23

H
e was fucking this up . . .

Asher sat on the couch, head in his hands, as he replayed his argument upstairs with Quinn. He couldn’t decide who he was more pissed at, Quinn for trying to leave him, or himself for making her believe he didn’t care about her. He’d so thoroughly convinced her that he didn’t give a shit, that he could make love to her for an entire night—because make no mistake, that’s exactly what it was—and in the morning, she could still look him in the eyes and believe it hadn’t meant anything to him.

She’d told him it was a mistake. And he just might have believed her if it wasn’t for the moisture gathering in her eyes, making those beauties shine like amethysts. Maybe he hadn’t been ready to admit he’d fallen in love with her last night, but after being with her, being inside her, over and over . . . After walking out that bathroom door and finding her getting ready to leave him . . . Something profound had shifted into place inside his chest, and he’d been faced with the hard slap of reality—he was undeniably in love with Quinn Summers. And he might have told her that too, if he’d thought there was a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d believe him.

Sometime between pulling her into his arms and drifting off to sleep, and then waking this morning, he’d lost her again. Her walls were back up, higher than ever, as she wore that stubborn chin-tilt of determination that dared him to challenge her.

Well, challenge accepted, sweetheart. He didn’t know what the hell had happened to her to make her such an untrusting skeptic, but he was determined to find out. Maybe he hadn’t done this right. Hell, if he was being honest with himself, he’d been fucking things up with her since the day he’d met her. But last night was the first time he’d gotten it right, and as a reward, he’d been given a glimpse of the real Quinn Summers—and he wanted more. Dammit, he wanted
her
. The problem was going to be convincing her of that, because the one thing he knew about this woman, she believed actions over words. If he hoped to have any bit of a future with her when this was over, then he had his work cut out for him.

And not only that—the fuck of it was, here he sat thinking of ways he could get Quinn to fall in love with him when what he really needed to be focusing on was keeping her alive, because he was pretty damn sure that the killer had found her.

See, this was exactly what he’d meant by a distraction. Goddammit . . .

It was with mixed emotions that he stood at the cliff’s edge and stared at the wreckage lying at the bottom of the mountain. No one could have survived that. He’d made sure the cables were loose enough that they wouldn’t hold if the truck had made it this far and crashed into the barrier. His only regret was the bastard had taken Quinn with him. He hadn’t been done with her yet—far from it. And the loss of a good kill left him oddly bereft. He’d had so many plans for her—for them . . .

He knew going into it he was taking a calculated risk, but he hadn’t been able to pass up the opportunity to take Tate out of the game. There were only so many ways to make a hit look like an accident. When he’d overheard Tate’s father telling one of his staff that his son was heading up to his place for a barbecue, it had been the chance he was waiting for. It wasn’t uncommon for a truck’s brakes to go out coming down a mountain.

He’d gambled that Tate would leave the woman behind, not wanting to get her involved with his family. He’d lost that bet—lost his chance to take out the competition and claim that sweet piece of ass for himself. Fuck . . .

He’d realized his misfortune after going to Tate’s house shortly after dark and finding the place empty. It would have been perfect. Quinn there all alone . . . Imagining the fun he would have had with her made his dick hard, the ache in his balls demanding satisfaction.

With a foul curse, he turned away from the wreckage, climbed into his car, and headed for Tate’s house. He hoped recovering the evidence wouldn’t be like searching for a needle in a haystack. It had to be there. He’d wrecked Quinn’s apartment searching for it. Her roommate hadn’t been any help, too busy sobbing and begging him not to kill her to be of any use. He’d finally cut her throat just to shut her the fuck up. Of course, she would have died either way. She’d seen his face. Then again, so had Quinn. She just hadn’t realized it, which told him she hadn’t spent a lot of time going through the photos she took. Sometimes the best places to hide were in plain sight. Not that any of it mattered now. She was dead. Tate was dead. He’d retrieve the final piece of damning evidence and then he could put this all behind him.

His security team was heading out for another CGRN escort at the end of the month. It’d be nice to get a little R & R before heading back to that shithole of a country. Maybe he’d go to Grand Cayman and lie low for a few weeks, or maybe Turks and Caicos. Both places would be beautiful this time of year, and he fucking deserved a vacation—especially after dealing with this shit.

Quinn opened the bathroom door and entered the bedroom, her gaze falling on the foil wrappers still littering the floor. As meticulously clean as Asher kept his place, she’d thought he would’ve cleaned them up while she was in the shower, but nope. There they were . . . and once again, the evidence of their passionate night together hit her with a resounding smack of reality.

As much as she knew she should, Quinn couldn’t bring herself to regret what had happened between them—mistake or not. Hands down, it had been the most incredible night of her life. She’d never felt that kind of pleasure in a man’s arms before. Asher had consumed her, taking all she had and giving so much more in return. Even now, just thinking about his mouth on hers, tongues tangling to the rhythm of his hard thrusts, had her belly turning liquid. Had he really meant what he’d said about it not happening again until she admitted to him that this wasn’t a mistake? Did she want it to happen again? The answer to that question was most resoundingly yes—yes she did.

She hadn’t expected him to fight so hard for her to stay, and wondered if he was so adamant because of his sense of obligation to Nikko, or if he truly wanted her here. She was wrestling with her decision, and if it wasn’t for the knowledge that Asher would undoubtedly come after her, putting himself at even greater risk, she would leave—not because she didn’t love him enough to stay, but because she loved him enough not to.

“Well, it looks like the only thing we’re missing are the panties hanging from the ceiling fan.”

Quinn startled at his voice behind her, her hand tightening around the foil wrappers. How could he be so calm when she had a knot of emotions bouncing around inside her like a Ping-Pong tournament? Didn’t he care he’d almost died last night? For someone who’d fallen off a mountain, he was acting terribly cavalier about the whole thing.

She shot him a look over her shoulder and grumbled, “I can’t believe you’re joking at a time like this.” Didn’t he see how much danger he was putting himself in by keeping her here? That the best thing for him was to let her go and forget he ever met her? Quinn grabbed the last wrapper and felt Asher’s gaze on her ass. She carried them over to the trash can and dropped the handful inside.

“What do you want me to do, Quinn? You want me to say that I’m scared? Will that make you feel any better, any safer? All right . . .” He walked toward her until she was within arm’s reach and then took hold of her shoulders, gripping her firmly as if preparing to shake some sense into her. The look in his eyes, the unguarded emotion and raw honesty she saw reflecting back at her, made her heart stutter in her chest. “I’m fucking terrified . . . but not of that bastard. I’m scared you’re going to get it into your head again that you’re better off on your own, and you’re going to get yourself killed. Promise me, you will not leave. I don’t need you to protect me, Quinn. That’s
my
job. Let me do it.”

Quinn nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. She would never have thought it possible, but she loved this man more and more with each passing second. His grip on her softened, his thumbs brushing back and forth over her arms in a gentle caress. How could such a simple touch make her knees go weak?

He studied her a moment, seeming to search her eyes for any hint of deception. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because after a long pause he nodded. “All right, then.” He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “No more talk of you going anywhere except with me.”

Quinn could feel the beat of his heart against her breasts—strong and reassuring. She slipped her arms around his waist and held on for dear life. How was it possible that in such a short time this man had literally become her lifeline?

“I think I need to get you out of here for a while. Let the dust settle and see what happens. I have a cabin up in the mountains we can go to. It’s remote, and safe. The only way to get there is on horseback or foot.”

She pulled back far enough to see his face. The grim set of his brows told her his decision was already made. “What about the SD card? I need those photos and my notes. I still haven’t been able to find the US connection I’m looking for, and I’m afraid I’m not going to without them.”

“There’s a generator at the cabin, so you’ll have electricity to finish working on your story, but no Internet access. When the SD card arrives Nikko can call the sat phone.”

“I don’t want him to upload those files. I won’t risk anyone discovering Vi has them if someone is monitoring her e-mail.”

“We’ll figure something out. We’re also going to need to make a plan for how we’re going to handle the news release. It’s not going to be as easy as pressing the send button—believe me.”

Quinn hadn’t gotten that far. She’d originally planned to hand her story over to the attorney general’s office and let them right this ghastly wrong, but that hope had died along with Emily. Journalism had never been her intended career. All her work had been overseas and she hadn’t been interested in networking and making social connections. She didn’t know anyone within the media circles who could help her. So along with finishing her research, she needed to start doing some homework and decide which media outlets she trusted with this story.

“How long do you think we’ll be at your cabin?”

“How long do you think it’ll take you to finish your work?”

“Once I have everything? A few days. Maybe a week at the most.”

He nodded. “That should give me enough time to figure out a way to flush this fucker out. I want him dead before you release this story.”

A cold chill snaked over her flesh, sending a shiver racking up her spine. Asher pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t worry, Quinn. You just focus on doing your job, and let me do mine. This is what I’ve been trained for.”

She knew he intended his words to bring her comfort, but there was none. Quinn hated that she’d dragged him into this. And at the same time, there wasn’t any other place she’d rather be—especially now, standing here in his arms—except maybe naked and beneath him. She had no idea how he planned to kill this man, but the idea of Asher putting himself at risk scared the ever-loving hell out of her.