Page 46 of Asher

Chapter Twenty-One

The trip home was a blur. Caught between heaven and earth, Asher drifted in a haze of whatever feel-good drug his medical attendant had injected into his pre-flight IV. He woke briefly when they transferred his gurney from the airliner to an ambulance. From there? His guess was as good as anyone’s.

At last, motion ceased. Low quiet voices faded beyond his ability to listen, focus, or care. They could’ve been doctors, lawyers, or Indian chiefs, he couldn’t tell. The bed he ended up in was clean and firm. The sheets soft. Another blood pressure cuff strangled his biceps. Tubing of a cannula slithered across his cheek. The lights went out and machines beeped steadily and quietly. He didn’t bother opening his eyes. Alex had accompanied him home, and home was no doubt the medical unit at TEAM HQ. Not home as much as a good enough place to land. He wanted to call his folks. Should’ve already done that. Maybe Alex had.

“Hey, man.”

Asher blinked up at the shadowy guy leaning over him with his hand on the headboard. “Wyatt?”

“Yeah, Asher, it’s me. You’re at TEAM HQ and Doc Fitz will be in again shortly. Thought I’d check on you before I head home.”

“Thought you were already home.”

“I had something to do first.”

“W-what?”

“I contacted Joshua, you know who I mean.”

“Yeah, sure.” Asher was coherent enough to recall that Joshua ben David was Mossad and a good friend. He and his men were lethal Nazi hunters. Nazi, Hamas, Houthi, ISIL, didn’t matter the breed of mad dog, Joshua and his team hunted them all and put them down when they found them.

“Joshua rescued three Afghan boys from Jamah’s stinking dungeon. They’re in pretty bad shape, but he took them to an Israeli hospital. They’ll be okay now. I thought you should know.”

Asher nodded so Wyatt knew he was earnestly listening. Sort of. Trying to.

“Tell your girlfriend those little guys were Sariah’s real children. The bitch gave them to Jamah. Don’t know why. Don’t care. Oh, and Harley, Walker, and Maverick ended Jamah and Tippetts tonight. Thought you should know that, too.”

“Three little boys?” Asher asked dazedly. He vaguely remembered the name Sariah. Couldn’t place her with certainty. It’d come to him… someday. “B-but three boys?” That was the unbelievable part of this conversation. Not that Harley, Walker, and Maverick ended Jamah and Tippetts, but—three little boys? Handed over to a known murderer and pedophile. By their mother. “I honestly hate some people,” he mumbled.

Wyatt pressed the flat of his fist against Asher’s good shoulder. “Cool your jets, brother. They’re better off where they are now. You done good, saving the boss like you did.”

“Yeah, well,” Asher breathed heavily. “Good bosses are hard to train.”

Asher closed his eyes, but just for a minute. Or two…

It came to him slowly, the question he should’ve asked. His eyes popped open. “Where’s Marlowe? She okay?”

Wyatt didn’t answer. The room was dark, the bed was soft, and… “Marlowe,” Asher whispered into the night. “I love you, baby girl.”

There. He’d told her. Kinda. Tomorrow? He’d tell her again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Marlowe needed to see Asher, needed to know he was alive and breathing. That he was okay and hadn’t forgotten her. The reunions taking place in Kelsey’s playroom were emotional, overwhelming, and exclusive. Harley, Walker, and Maverick came first. After Kelsey let them in, they’d quickly grabbed their wives and held them, just held them like they’d never let them go. There were tears and quiet ‘I love yous.’ The women and guys all hugged Kelsey on their way out.

That left Libby, Kelsey, and Marlowe, the odd duck. The one no one was coming for. Old habits died hard. A dizzy spell hit and she was back in Chicago, reliving a life of rejection, of being the only kid in class without parents who cared enough to buy her decent clothes and shoes. Pitied and teased. Made to feel different and less than. Until the day she walked out and didn’t return.

Alex hadn’t come home yet. His kids were both still sound asleep. Would he wake them when he got there? Of course, Lexie and Bradley would hug him and call him Daddy. Kelsey would cry. It was more than Marlowe could take.

Blinking to keep her tears to herself, she looked up at the ceiling, needing to leave before he arrived. She’d already studied the way out but knew Kelsey and Libby would stop her.

Mark hadn’t come for Libby yet, either, but he most certainly would. Any minute now, and maybe then, she’d tell him about the new Houston baby in her belly. He’d be happy because he actually wanted six kids. Six. Maybe more, Marlowe couldn’t recall how many Libby had said. Bet he’d carry her away like a handsome prince, and they’d run back to their home and live happily ever af—

Marlowe was digging herself into a pit of depression, and she knew it. That crap had to stop. She forced her mind back to all the women and children she’d gotten safely out of Afghanistan. She was the only one she’d failed. Her getting caught was her mistake, but she’d always known it was bound to happen. She’d rolled the dice and lucked out so many times, but success and failure relied on chance and circumstance. The only good side to that nearly fatal day was that no one else was caught with her. All the women she’d rescued had gotten out of Afghanistan. Their children would grow up free. Marlowe had Alex to thank for that, and Arzad to thank for connecting her with him.

She’d do it again. All of it. Even after what had happened in that cave. Libby was right. Marlowe did have feelings for Asher, and he was right, too. She couldn’t go back to Afghanistan. The Taliban were wise to her now. They’d make a public example of her in the most humiliating way. She would surely die. Maybe by fire. She’d seen that, once. A man. She had no clue what his crime was. Only knew he’d died slowly and horribly.

Okay, this wasn’t working. She’d just dug herself in deeper. Blinking, she shook her head to redirect her stubborn brain and—

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