Chapter 16
sixteen
ASHER
“Please repeat that,” I say, my voice thick. I barely remember the phone ringing, let alone answering it, yet here it is against my ear, Brad’s voice cutting through the fog.
“The police are on their way. It’s a mess. I hate to do this to you, but you should probably come in.”
Agitation claws at my gut. “What’s a mess?”
“The office. The break in. Whoever it was really fucked it over. Half of our equipment is trashed, the stuff they didn’t steal. And your office… it’s not good. Really not good.”
“Is it secure?”
“I called the first team in. They’re all here.”
“Good work.” I’m wide awake now. Ripping the covers off, I sit up and slide my feet to the floor. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep this line open. I want constant updates.”
“Understood.”
Fuck. Any remaining exhaustion is gone, as I storm into the bathroom and turn the shower on, taking less than three minutes to clean myself before I put in my contacts and grab a crisp white shirt and dark suit from my closet.
And all the time I have my assistant – who I woke up and now owe a huge bonus – on the phone with me, talking through the logistics of getting off this island in the middle of the night.
There are no ferries for at least two more hours.
And all the charter owners will be fast asleep.
Yes, I could wake them up, but Hudson recently installed a helipad just north of the hotel for the exclusive use of VIP guests, so my assistant manages to track down a pilot willing to fly a chopper from New York to pick me up.
I hate to think how much this is going to cost. Yes, I can afford it, but I’m furious anyway. I grab my phone and wallet, then slide my feet into my leather shoes, taking a second to check myself in the mirror, before I walk out into the hallway, ready to drive to the helipad.
“Asher?” Hudson walks out of the master bedroom. His hair is mussed up, and he’s wearing a pair of sleep shorts and nothing else. If I had more time I’d rib him, but I don’t.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” I tell him, my voice low, because I don’t want to wake the rest of his family.
“What’s going on?” he asks, glancing at the smartwatch on his wrist. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“There’s been a break in at my office,” I tell him.
He winces. “Is it bad?”
“So I hear. I need to get there to sort things out. I’ve got a helicopter picking me up from the pad.”
“Want me to drive you?” he asks, but I’m already shaking my head.
“No need. I’ll drive myself. You go back to bed.”
Our eyes catch. He knows what a break in means to a security company like mine. Not only are the optics terrible, but we house a lot of secrets in that building. “Call me when you get there,” he says.
“It’ll still be early. One of us should be getting some sleep.”
“I want to help. Call me.”
I nod, giving him a mirthless smile before I head out of the house and to my car. The air outside is cool, the aroma of salt and damp sand coming up from the ocean. I’ve always hated this time of day. It’s quiet. Too quiet. And far too lonely. Like there’s nobody else in the world except for me.
My worst nightmare.
Climbing into my car, I start up the engine and switch the stereo on to break the silence.
Linkin Park comes on, and I put the car in drive, letting the anger take over as I drive to the helipad to wait for my ride to Manhattan.
When I get there I check my phone – there’s an update that the police have arrived and would like to talk to me when I get to the office, but nothing else.
It only takes twenty minutes for the helicopter to arrive, which is pretty impressive for this time of day.
I stand back, feeling the wind rush through my hair and my clothes as the huge machine lands, waiting for the pilot to give me the all clear.
As I climb into the cabin, he passes me a headset and shakes my hand.
“Pier 6, right?” he asks, referring to the Downtown Manhattan Helipad next to the East River. At this time of day it’ll be less than a five minute drive to my building.
“Yes please.”
Five minutes later we’re taking off, hovering in the air for a moment before we start moving forward. Liberty shrinks beneath me as we pass over the hotel and the expanse of green, before I see the lighthouse beneath us.
Francie. Memories of last night rush through my mind. I let out a long breath. Was it only a few hours ago that I was telling that toe-socked asshole that if he didn’t leave right away I’d be telling his wife and kids exactly what he’s been doing?
Yes, he’s married. I managed to find that out with a quick, targeted search. And no, I’m not telling Francie about that. No harm, no foul. She didn’t know he’s a cheating piece of shit when she accepted the date and I don’t want her to feel bad.
I will be arranging for his wife to find out anyway, though.
The sun is rising over New York as we fly into Manhattan airspace.
The streets are still fairly empty, though, save for the trash trucks and delivery vans that keep this place going.
My car is waiting for me when we land, and as soon as I get the all clear, I run out of the helicopter to the waiting car door, where my driver gives me a wry smile.
“Sorry,” I tell him, knowing he must have been woken up the same way as the rest of us. And yes, I’ll compensate him fully for the inconvenience, but I know how annoying it is for a phone call to blast through your dreams.
“All in a day’s work. I heard about the break in,” he says, closing the door and climbing into the front seat. “Is it bad?”
“I believe so. I’m about to find out I guess.” I sit back on the plush leather seat, checking my watch. Is it really only six? For a second my mind flits to Liberty. To her.
And then I bring it right back because I need all my energy on this shitshow. The car pulls away and I take a deep breath. We’re a security company. We’re going to find out who did this.
And when we do, I’m going to make them regret it.
FRANCIE
My thumb hovers over my phone, hesitating over the end call button. I’ve already left a voicemail. One more and I’ll sound like a stalker.
Still, I let the message play through the speaker as I walk barefoot along the sand, the salty breeze lifting my hair.
The sun’s high, casting glitter on the waves, and the gulls overhead are crying like they have something to complain about.
Maybe they know how hard it is to write a damn fight scene when your brain is stuck on the man who chased off your toe-shoed almost-date last night.
His voice comes through the speaker. It’s smooth and unbothered.
“You’ve reached the voicemail of Asher Fitzgerald. If it’s not urgent, leave a message. If you need an immediate response, call my assistant.”
He rattles off a number I don’t bother memorizing.
There’s nothing overtly sexy in the words, but his voice… it hits me like a slow stroke down my spine. Confident. Controlled. I remember the way he said, “I haven’t stopped,” when I asked if he was still watching me. The softness in his voice. The heat behind it.
The way I’d wanted him to keep watching. To never stop.
“Hey!” Skyler’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she jogs toward me with Ayda in tow. Her ponytail bounces, and she’s flushed from chasing a five-year-old down the beach. “So you haven’t been abducted by a foot-worshipping cult?”
She rests a protective hand on her still-flat stomach. A subtle reminder that she’s pregnant. Only three months along, and according to Autumn, Hudson is treating her like a princess. It’s sweet. And kind of heartbreaking, in the best way.
I grin. “I couldn’t even believe those.”
“Mylene asked if they were real or an urban legend. I think she’s considering a pair.”
“If she buys some, I’m leaving the island.”
Skyler laughs, then lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Hudson said Asher practically chased the guy off Liberty. Very lowkey Taken energy.”
My heart skips. “He told me he might’ve misquoted Liam Neeson.”
“So Hudson wasn’t exaggerating.” She smirks.
Ayda runs up and presses a small white shell into my hand. “This one’s for you.”
The shell is smooth and cool, like a tiny heartbeat in my palm. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Skyler watches Ayda with that soft look I’ve come to associate with her. “She’s doing really well.”
“She is,” I say, voice warm. “She’s talking again. That’s because of you.”
Skyler blinks, and I can see emotion bubbling beneath her surface. “Okay, no getting mushy,” she says, shaking it off. “Let’s go back to gossip. Did you hear about Asher?”
My smile falters. “What about him?”
“He left Liberty early this morning. Like, really early. Took a helicopter off the island.”
I stop walking. “Why?”
She sighs. “There was a break-in at his office. Hudson said it was bad. They trashed the place. Equipment, documents, the works.”
A cold wind blows straight through my gut. “Do they know who did it?”
“Not yet. Asher’s there now, talking to the police.” She gives me a pointed look. “Hudson says Asher’s pissed. And embarrassed. I guess when you run a security company and get broken into... not great optics.”
I nod slowly, heart thudding. He was watching over me last night – calming me down, chasing Reed off, making me feel safe – while his business was falling apart.
The guilt hits me fast. If he hadn’t been babysitting me, maybe he would’ve noticed something was wrong. Maybe he could’ve stopped it.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Skyler shrugs. “No idea. He might be stuck in the city for a while.”
I press the shell tighter in my hand, letting the sharp edge cut into my palm. I shouldn’t feel disappointed. I shouldn’t feel like someone’s pulled a plug on the warmth building in my chest.
But I do. And I hate that I do.
“I tried to call him earlier,” I say. “Just to say thanks. I didn’t know…”
“I’m sure he appreciated it,” Skyler says gently.
Ayda tugs on her hand. “Can we get a milkshake now?”
Skyler ruffles her hair. “You want to come with?” she asks me.
I should. But the fight scene is still staring at me like a challenge. And truthfully, I’m not sure I’ll be good company right now.
“Can I take a raincheck?” I ask.
“It’s a deal.” She smiles, and I watch them walk off hand in hand, Ayda skipping ahead while Skyler matches her step.
I stay behind, watching the two of them shrink toward the edge of the beach, heading for downtown Liberty and its pastel-painted coffee shops and toe-shoe gossip.
I turn back to the ocean, the wind brushing my cheeks. The mainland is hazy in the distance, but I know he’s there.
Asher.
He left. And I know it wasn’t personal, but it still feels personal. Like he took something with him when he left. This unspoken thread between us, fragile and humming with potential.
Maybe it wouldn’t feel so raw if I hadn’t spent last night whispering his name into my pillow.
If I hadn’t closed my eyes and imagined his hands, his mouth, his rough voice in my ear.
I know it’s a crush, a passing fantasy. These past few days have been ridiculous. And not what I came here for.
I’m supposed to be writing a book. The biggest break of my career. The one my editor’s waiting on. I told myself I could finish it if I just got away from the chaos at my apartment.
But somehow, Asher Fitzgerald has become the biggest distraction of them all.
I let out a breath, turning back toward the lighthouse, still thinking about how close he felt last night, even though he was on the phone.
There’s nothing between us. There can’t be.
But it doesn’t stop me from wishing he was here.