Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“To Marcus.” Luke raised his glass in the air.
The guys had been sharing memories of him for the past hour at the back of a busy restaurant, Rossi’s, which had been Marcus’s favorite place to eat.
Five square tables had been shoved together to accommodate some of the guys from Scott he breathed in the smell of a million baked pies and melted cheese. The taste of home on his tongue.
But that home was gone. He’d left it behind to join the Navy.
His team was his home now. And with justice served for Marcus, he felt like he could breathe again.
“You good?” Liam asked after another ten or so minutes had passed. “I know you didn’t know Marcus well, but—”
“I feel like I did.” I took his spot. And he sure as hell hoped no one else would ever have to be replaced. He didn’t know if he could handle any more losses in his life.
“Well.” Liam rubbed his palms together and looked over at Jessica from across the table. “Marcus would want us having fun tonight. He’d kick our asses if we didn’t.”
Knox cocked his head toward the wall of liquor behind the woman tending bar. Liam nodded and circumvented the table to follow him.
“I think they have the right idea,” Wyatt said, pressing his palms to the table. “You need to loosen up, anyway. That woman at our three o’clock has been staring at you since we got here.”
“Or maybe she’s been eying you,” Asher said without following Wyatt’s gaze.
“So, you don’t mind if I move in?” He was already on his feet, sidestepping the chair.
“Have at her,” he replied with a laugh, not sure if Wyatt even heard him.
“Some things never change with you guys,” Jessica said once Wyatt was gone.
“Why are you making such a sweeping generalization about us?” He leaned back in his seat and glanced toward the end of the table where Luke and his fiancée sat, then he looked over at Owen and Samantha laughing at something Luke had said.
Two Teamguys down.
Eight more to go.
He wasn’t sure how many of his buddies would fall in love, though.
“You guys play the field and never commit,” she said with a shrug before taking the cherry from her soda, placing it in her mouth, and pulling off the stem.
And . . . I hate you. “You’re just as bad.” He took a sip of his Guinness to try and cool off, to keep from wandering to that blank space in his mind that would quickly shift to memories of their one time together.
He scratched at his chin, his thoughts wandering anyway.
Oh, Asher. You’re so, so, so— Her words had turned to a full-on howl-at-the-moon kind of moan before she’d sunk her teeth into the pillow as she orgasmed.
He coughed into a closed fist and regrouped. “Don’t pretend you don’t hook up with guys and then leave them in the morning, never to call again.” You did it to me.
Restaurant mood-lighting or not, he could see the rise of red edge up her neck and into her cheeks.
Her attempt to clear her throat was less than subtle. He’d somehow gotten to her, hadn’t he?
“I don’t have time for relationships.” Her lips depressed into a hard line. “Or casual sex,” she said in a lower voice a moment later. “But, that’s not any of your concern.”
“Then why’d you tell me?” He cocked a brow, a smirk touching his lips.
She drummed her nails on the table and her eyes pinned to his. “Where will you be heading Monday when Luke comes back to the office?”
If only he had a bell to ring every time she changed the subject. Of course, he’d probably lose his hearing from the ringing.
“Until we get another job, you mean?” His hands fell to his lap. “I don’t know.”
“Are you ever going to pick a place to call home?”
“I—” He lost his words when his gaze settled on someone across the restaurant.
His brother-in-law was sitting next to someone other than Asher’s sister, and his damn lips were on the woman’s cheek. “What the hell?” he said under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” Jessica turned in her chair to track Asher’s eyes.
Asher shoved away from the table, the crowded place too noisy for anyone to hear the hard scrape of the chair legs against the floor.
He started for Greg, ignoring the swell of chatter and flow of wine all around him.
By the time Greg’s brown eyes connected with his, it was too late. Asher grabbed his arm and jerked him off his stool. He bunched his shirt in his hand.
The sudden murmurs from people in the restaurant became dull background noise.
“Are you cheating on Sarah?” The question whooshed out hard and fast.
“What the fuck, man?” Greg surrendered his palms, his brows pinching together. “I’m not cheating on your sister.”
Asher’s jaw tightened as his gaze darted to the brunette at the bar top table and then back to the two-timing asshole in front of him. “It sure as hell looks like it.”
“Let him go.” Jessica’s fingers splayed at the center of Asher’s back.
Her presence caused a momentary lapse of calm before his anger barked back up his spine and he seethed, “What’s going on?” His free hand curled into a fist at his side, ready to pummel the guy. “Where’s Sarah?”
“How would I know? We split up.”
The news was the equivalent to a lead slug from a .30 Win Mag hitting subsonic speed before pinging a target.
Asher released his hold on Greg and backed up a step, bumping into Jessica. He glanced at her over his shoulder, and she lightly shook her head, another plea to get him to calm down. “What are you talking about?” he asked, returning his focus to Greg.
The man smoothed his hands down his crisp dress shirt. “Your sister”—he pointed at his chest—“cheated on me. We separated four weeks ago.”
“No. I don’t believe that. Sarah wouldn’t—”
“Well, I guess neither one of us knows her as well as we thought,” he cut him off. “It was some guy from her past. Covered in tattoos. Real bad attitude.” He slipped back onto his barstool, and the woman he was with reached for his hand. “I walked in on them screwing on top of our kitchen table.”
“No. No damn way.” Asher clenched his teeth, trying to shake the image Greg had painted from his mind. “You’re lying.”
“Asher.” Jessica gripped his bicep, and her touch had him seizing a breath. “Let’s go.”
“I bet she’s with the prick right now. Apparently, your clean-cut sister likes to get really fucking dirty.”
Asher leaned in, his breath touching Greg’s face as anger pricked his fingertips, and he fisted his shirt once again.
He’d never liked her husband, and hell, he barely knew the guy. Maybe he deserved to have his ass kicked, anyway.
“Don’t,” Jessica commanded.
“Asher.” It was Owen this time.
Great. Was the whole team going to defend his brother-in-law?
“Jessica’s right. Let him go,” Owen said slowly as if he knew Asher’s mind was working at a shit level right now.
“If you’re lying to me, I’ll find you and gut you.” Asher hesitantly released his shirt and then left the bar in need of fresh air.
“Wait!” Jessica called after him.
On the street, he spun around to find Owen and Jessica there. “What?” He pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to dial down the anger he was hurling at his friends. “Sorry.” He edged closer to the building and out of the way of the few passing pedestrians.
“You okay, man?” Owen asked as Asher dropped his arms like weights to his sides, his gaze pinned to the door of the bar as Eva slipped outside.
“I’ll be fine.” His throat tightened as he thought about who the hell his sister could be with right now.
“No, you’re not.” Jessica stepped up alongside Owen and crossed her arms, slightly shaking.
“Get inside. You’ll freeze.” Asher jerked his chin toward the bar.
“I don’t think you should go back inside right now,” Owen said. “But you shouldn’t be alone.”
“Here.” Eva handed out their coats and offered Jessica her purse. “Can’t help myself. I’m a mother now.” She smiled.
“Thanks.” Owen clutched his jacket and waited for Eva to head back inside before speaking again. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’d advise against it.”
“Sarah didn’t tell you for a reason,” Jessica added. “Leave it alone.”
He faked a laugh. “She’s my sister. I need to know she’s safe. What if this guy she’s with is—” His words died as an idea rolled to mind. No. Hell, no. It couldn’t be, could it? “I gotta go.” He put on his jacket and whirled around and started in the other direction.
“Don’t kill anyone,” Owen called out from behind.
Asher kept on the move.
“Wait for me,” Jessica said a few beats later, breathy from the cool air.
“Get back inside the bar,” he hollered without looking her way. “Where I’m going isn’t safe for you.” Or my sister.
“Asher, please.” She was at his nine o’clock now, and he knew she was too stubborn to back down, so he halted and spun to face her.
“Go back.” He stabbed at the air, pointing toward the bar. “Tonight is about Marcus. You need to be with the team.”
“You should be with us then.” When he didn’t speak, she said, “I have to go with you. Someone has to make sure you don’t get hurt, or hurt someone else.” She angled her head. “We’re still in charge. I can’t let my partner get into trouble.”
He stepped so close it had her back up against the building behind her. With a lift of her chin, she zeroed in on his eyes with her take-no-prisoners look he knew all too well.
“You and me.” She pressed a finger to his chest. “We’re a team.”
He cocked a brow and mounted a hand on the brick wall over her shoulder. “Since when is there an us?” His breaths quickened as his gaze darted to her mouth.
“Don’t hunt your sister down,” she said instead. “If she didn’t tell you what’s going on, there’s a reason.”
“If she’s with who I think she’s with, I have to go,” he rushed out.
“She’s over thirty. Sarah can handle herself.” Her palm flattened on his chest.
He dropped his eyes to her fingers, and a strange fluttering sensation grew in his stomach. “I don’t give a shit about age. She’s my sister. She doesn’t have a dad to watch over her.” His boots shifted back, and it had Jessica lowering her hand. “I’m responsible for her.”
The topic of his father had always been a hard limit for him.
No discussions. No mention of his existence in the world.
This was a first.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Too bad,” she said casually and shifted past him.
He caught her by the arm, and she peered back at him. “Why do you love to piss me off?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She lightly shook her head. “Let’s take my car. It’ll get us there faster.”
He considered her words. Her known stubbornness. “Fine,” he ground out. “But I’m driving.”
“Like hell you are.” She shook her head. “No one drives my car.” She shot him a pointed look, then a slow whisper of a smile ghosted her lips. “Follow me.”
He eyed the back of her jeans as she moved in front of him down the street, and he tried to look away. Tried damn hard.
No luck.
She was a distraction, and even though he wanted to latch onto his anger, maybe it was a good idea to cool off before he murdered someone tonight.
Once he buckled up inside her Maserati, he pressed his palms to his thighs and tipped his chin toward the roof.
“Where are we going?”
He peered over at her. “To where you found me three years ago.”