Page 19 of Asher

Like Harley, Asher took his out of his pants pocket and dropped it to the carpeted floor in the hall. By the time he had Marlowe situated in Alex’s office, he was pissed at everyone. He parked her wheelchair alongside the window, facing Alex, and took the chair beside her and closest to his boss’s desk. He ached to comfort Marlowe. She was pale and trembling, out of her element. They’d gone from playing with puppies to Force Protection Condition DELTA, and Asher didn’t know why.

He put a hand on her forearm to calm her. “Are you okay?”

She turned to face him. “I thought I was safe here.”

Asher’s hold tightened. “You are safe. Like I said, Alex owns The TEAM, and it’s the most elite, sought after covert surveillance company in the world. I work for him. You couldn’t be safer. Nothing and no one can get to you here.”Because I will fucking kill anyone who tries.

Scooting to the edge of his chair, he closed the distance between them, pressing his hip against the wheel of her chair. She reached for his hand, and he gave her what she needed. Which apparently was twining her fingers with his. Damn, they were ice-cold. Asher needed to calm down. He was angry, but not at Marlowe. Alex? That was something else again.

Judy sat beside Harley at the other end of the desk, both looking as flummoxed as Asher felt. Marlowe was in shock, trembling down to her bandaged toes. Alex charged in behind them, slammed his door, then locked it and took his place behind the desk, his stern focus on Marlowe. He lifted the receiver of his secure line to Murphy and Mark, his senior agents, to his ear,and ordered, “My office.” He didn’t speak another word until Murphy and Mark knocked.

Harley jumped up and let them in, then relocked the door and asked, “Now, Boss?”

“Do it,” Alex bit out.

While Murphy and Mark dragged chairs from the conference table located behind everyone else and sat, Harley flipped the red switch behind the door and activated SCIF, Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility protocol. Which meant Alex definitely had top-secret intel to reveal. His heretofore clear windows went frosty, blurring everything and everyone inside to outside eyes. The low hum in the room ensured no listening devices were on-site or capable of breaching security.

As usual, Alex was dressed to kill. His charcoal gray suit was pressed, his black tie was straight as an arrow, and his white shirt immaculate. The vibe radiating off this man was a powerful deterrent to friendly banter. He stuck his elbows on his desk and centered his steepled fingers under his chin, almost—not quite—casually. His way of toning it down? Didn’t work. Not the way he stared at Marlowe, which was pissing off Asher.

He leaned forward, drawing his boss’s attention from her. “What’s going on, Boss?”

Alex held up his index finger, shutting Asher down, still focused on Marlowe. “How did you get here? No, forget that. Who betrayed you?”

“Boss,” Asher warned. “This is the woman we rescued on our last mission into—”

The son of a bitch shut him down again with that same pointed finger. “Afghanistan, I know. Do you realize who she is? How much she’s done for the women and children left behind? Do you know what you’ve done?”

“Ah…” Until that second, Asher thought he knew what he’d done. He’d simply rescued another woman, not just the ones on their list, but one who’d been tortured. One who wouldn’t have survived if he and Beau hadn’t found her.

“I didn’t know you worked for him,” Marlowe murmured apologetically at his side. “Honest, or I would’ve told you. Mr. Stewart was, err,ismy point of contact. He sends me names of endangered women. I contact the ones I can find. I hide them and their kids, and I take care of them until you guys show up and get them out of the country.”

“You’re shitting me?” Asher growled. “You? Just you? You’re his sole in-country source? The person who’s been helping us rescue all those women left behind is—you?”

She nodded, that one sky-blue eye brimming with tears. Asher couldn’t believe it. Marlowe was a tiny woman, not some big jock who could fend off a bar fight. But she wastheonly one responsible for covertly getting scores of the wives of endangered Afghan nationals, friends, interpreters, guides, and others who’d aided the American military during the war, out of their Taliban-polluted country? Just her? He wanted to rip Alex to shreds.

“How could you do that to her?” he bellowed, on his feet now, still holding tight to the hand of the frightened woman he’d personally saved from shitting hell. “You nearly got her killed. You son of a bitch, I oughta—”

“Sit. Down.” Alex snarled.

Which did not help. “Go to hell!” Asher roared at the man who could fire him. Like he cared? Not anymore. Marlowe was his first priority, like she should’ve been Alex’s, the bastard. “They hung her up and whipped her like a dog! Or did you know that, too?”

Marlowe tugged his hand. “Shush. It’s not his fault.”

“Like hell, it’s not. He’s been there. He knows what those… those…”

“Assholes,” she provided the descriptor Asher couldn’t come up with.

Her favorite word got through to him. Asher sank into his chair and pulled the woman who’d come to mean everything to him, within mere days, onto his lap where he could protect her from his boss. From Alex, Christ! That a man like him had assigned a single woman the chore of accomplishing miracles in the ugliest part of the world was the worst of this mess.

“As you heard, he didn’t know I was a woman,” Marlowe explained. “We’ve never spoken. Only texted. He’d text me a list of women who needed rescue. I’d send him a list of the ones I found. Sometimes I found them all. Some I still can’t find. Once I found them, I’d keep them and their kids hidden until he sent dates, times, and how many he could get out at a time. We coordinated everything by text.” She shrugged. “It worked until I got, umm, caught.”

“How on earth did you connect with each other in the first place?” Harley asked, his forearms on his knees and looking every bit as bewildered as Asher.

“Through a mutual friend, Arzad,” Marlowe answered.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Harley muttered. “I know Arzad. He’s a good man.”

Marlowe nodded. “He is. When Mr. Stewart came for Arzad and his wife, Arzad mentioned it to me. Everything in Afghanistan was unraveling by then, so I told him if other Afghans wanted to leave, I’d help them if he’d help me find a way to do it. He said he knew a guy.” She turned to Alex. “Arzad gave me your number, and in a couple months, you texted with my first assignment. I’d made up that silly code by then because I knew you’d never hire someone like me. But I also knew most of the women at risk. I knew who you’d be looking for.”

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