Page 58 of Asher

The crates are big—about three feet by three feet—and made of wood, though I have no idea what kind. They look sturdy and in good condition. Garrett’s right; it’s pretty dry in here, and I guess that makes it good for storage.

A sudden beam of light hits the nearest crate, and I jump, startled, until I realize Zac’s turned on the flashlight on his phone. “No toxins detected yet, and it doesn’t look like there’s any writing on this side,” he says, running the light over the entire side of it and leaning closer. “If I had to guess the type of wood, I’d say some kind of pine… maybe. It seems to be well made.” He walks around it, shining the light on the two other sides we can see. “No marks or stamps… does anyone else see anything?”

We murmur in dissent, then follow closely as he moves down the row, inspecting the crates we can easily see—the bottom two rows. There’s no writing or maker’s mark on any of the crates, unless it coincidentally happens to be on the sides we can’t see. Zac keeps pausing to hold his gadget close to the crates, especially near the seams, but nothing happens, and he doesn’t start yelling for us to get away.

So far, treasure discovering is a lot more boring than investment banking. At least when I’m working, there’s the potential risk of losing thousands or even millions of francs. Right now, I’m just standing around looking at boxes while wearing a costume similar to when we were kids pretending to be the Scarlet Pimpernel. At least then I got a pretend sword… when Micah didn’t whine so much, I had to let him use it.

That reminds me… when we tell Gideon about this, we have to make it sound a lot more exciting.

“Okay,” Zac says finally. “Let’s get the ladder.”

Garrett’s racing back to the pile of gear before he even finishes speaking. As I watch him pick up the folding ladder and carry it back, I realize I have two options: I can physically prevent him from going up that ladder, or I can bite my tongue and try not to panic to death while he goes up.

I narrow my eyes. He’s almost as big as I am, and hellhounds are sneaky… could I even manage to hold him back?

He gets back to us and sets the ladder down. I can’t see his mouth behind the mask, but his eyes are smiling. Then he sees that I’m looking at him. “Don’t even bloody think it, Asher. You try to keep me from climbing this ladder, and you’ll learn the true meaning of blue balls.”

Panic to death it is.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Garrett

Despite my threat to Asher,there’s a tiny part of me that wishes he would try to stop me. The rest of me squashes it like a bug and helps Zac set up the ladder. This is exciting, and I can’t wait to see what’s in those crates.

Zac hands me his phone. “Can you record and climb the ladder at the same time?”

I take it dubiously. “Probably… but do we really need to record the rungs as I climb?”

“No, but there might be something on the crates that the video will catch,” he explains patiently.

With a big sigh, I start recording and put my foot on the first rung. “I can manage it.”

Asher appears at my side—not that he’s been that far anytime in the past few minutes. I get the feeling that he’s still struggling not to throw me over his shoulder and whisk me somewhere else. He’d better not if he knows what’s good for him, but I love that he wants to. It makes me feel special… protected. I’ve never liked overprotective, possessive partners before, and never thought I wanted one, but there’s something about Asher that’s different.

Garrett and Asher, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…

The little voice sounds a lot like Alistair, and I tune it out. I have an important job to do now. Getting all swoony over my hot, masterful, maybe-not-so-temporary (crap crap crap, I just thought it) husband can wait for later.

“Be careful,” Asher says in his growly voice that makes my dick perk up. “If you see anything odd, get down right away.”

I chuckle and kiss him through both our masks. “Odd like this whole situation? It’s fine, Asher. I’ll be careful.” Without giving him time to say anything more, I turn and scramble up the ladder, trying to keep the phone steady and pointed at the crates. At the top, I turn on the phone’s flashlight to get better visibility. There are some shadows up here.

Tracking the light over the lid of the top crate, I feel a thrill of anticipation. “There’s a symbol on this one,” I call down to the others. “I don’t know what it means, though.” It’s on one of the far corners, and I lean across the crate to see it more clearly. The black ink is clear and dark, not faded much, if at all. These crates can’t have been here that long—there’s not even a lot of dust on them.

“Be careful!” Asher yells, and someone—probably Micah—repeats it in a high-pitched voice, mocking him. This whole thing about demons being scary and unapproachable is clearly a myth.

Except Damaris. She still makes me want to wet my pants sometimes, and I’m pretty sure she likes me now.

“Garrett, take a picture of the symbol and text it to Asher,” Zac calls. “Let’s see if we can recognize it before you try opening.”

Obediently, I stop recording, snap a picture, and open the messaging app to send it to Asher… which proves easier said than done. “I can’t find Asher’s name in here,” I tell Zac.

“Yeah, he’s in there as The Boring One.”

“You’re such a dick,” I hear Asher say as I find the right contact. “I’m not boring, I’m financially gifted.”

“You’re boring,” Zac and Micah declare in unison.

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