Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
The sky roared as if Zeus and Poseidon were battling for world domination.
Thunder. Lightning bolts. Pelting rain as they rushed from the car and to the side of the building beneath an overhang for protection.
Rain in January was worse than snow, but she still wanted to jab Asher in the ribs for holding his jacket over her head.
She combed her fingers through her messy locks, observing him as he tucked his coat into the crook of his arm.
His hair was still irritatingly perfect, swept tight into a man-bun—a look she’d always detested.
Until him. Why did everything about him have to turn her on?
It made things . . . difficult. “Don’t do shit like that, okay? ”
“What? Keep you from getting wet?”
Soaking frigging wet. All the time. Her thighs squeezed as the familiar but unwanted burn of desire zinged inside of her. “Don’t freeze your ass off for me. I can handle myself.”
He clutched the door handle but didn’t open it, catching her gaze from over his shoulder. Even in the shitty street lighting the depth of his eyes managed to drill right through her.
“Let’s just find Sarah.” She pointed toward the door, anxious to get the night over with so she could board her plane tomorrow and get away from him for a few days. Working so close to him over the past few months had screwed with her head.
Every morning. Afternoon. And night. Even on the weekends, Asher had been there.
Kicking his untied boots up atop her desk as he leaned back with his hands behind his head—purposefully irritating her.
Watching her. Poking fun at her. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied her. Stripping her with his eyes.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Day in and day out, she’d had to alleviate the lust by running like she was training for a triathlon.
Going into the compound in France had been evidence she needed a system reboot. She’d never made a mistake like that, but when she’d heard the explosion and lost Asher on comms—she’d also lost her mind apparently.
“Stay at my side.” His tone was rough, and yet it glided over her skin and had her nipples straining against the fabric of her bra. She hated her body’s betrayal. “If anyone touches you, then I’ll end up beating the shit out of someone tonight. Maybe even commit murder.”
“Enough with the chivalry already.” She tipped her chin toward the door as a smile touched his lips.
“Your idea of chivalry is violence?”
She rolled her eyes. “I was kidding.”
He swung open the door, and she moved past him, brushing against him in the process, and another unwanted sizzle snapped up her spine.
As they traversed the building, cutting through a crowd surging toward a cage at the center of the room, Asher surprised her by reaching for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers.
She remained at his side, telling herself it was okay for him to lead since she was in foreign territory.
But as they walked, their united hands stirred something deep inside of her, making her heart ache.
Her only one-night stand with a man in uniform, and it had to be him. Of all people. The best orgasms of her life delivered over the course of those six hours. Six unforgettable hours.
She preferred the chauvinistic and cocky jerk—even if it was a facade—to this Asher. Because this Asher made her vulnerable, a feeling she couldn’t handle.
As they rounded a side of one of the cage walls, her pulse spiked at the sight of Asher’s sister. She stood alongside a guy who seemed vaguely familiar. They were watching the current fight in progress, and the guy had his arm draped around Sarah’s shoulder.
She’d never met Sarah, but she recognized her from Asher’s work file. A lot of blank spaces and dodgy details on his paperwork had led her to try and fill in the facts.
Asher’s hold on her hand tightened. He must’ve spied his sister, too. Please, don’t kill anyone.
She’d seen Asher fight before. He’d taken down a lot of bad guys in their time together. And she’d witnessed him throw down with the team to train. But three years ago, when she and Luke had walked into this very building, it’d been different. Another level.
She’d never forget the hard look in Asher’s eyes that night. The darkness that had consumed his face as he’d landed punch after punch.
Ohhh. The man with Sarah was the guy Asher had been fighting that night. Shit.
Jessica kept her right elbow up to afford her space in the crowd as they walked, bumping into spectators.
Asher glanced at her, a look of anger, determination, in the set of his jaw. The nostrils of his Romanesque nose flared, his naturally semi-arched brows lowered, and the corners of his full lips depressed into a hard line.
The man was built like a truck, and he could probably smash anything and anyone in his way. But she needed to prevent that from happening tonight.
They closed in on the couple, and Sarah’s eyes landed on them.
“Asher-Mother-Fucking-Hayes.” The man at Sarah’s side kept her close to him but glanced at his other arm as if checking a watch, even though he wasn’t wearing one.
“Is this the new thing? A visit every few years?” His voice was hardly audible over the sounds of the fight and the crowd, but she’d always been good at reading lips.
Sarah stepped forward and stood in front of Asher as if prepared to protect the man from her brother.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Asher’s voice was like a roar over the cheers from an apparent knockout Jessica caught in her peripheral view.
“Leave,” Sarah demanded. Her dark brown eyes whipped briefly to Jessica before settling on her brother.
“You don’t belong here. It’s not safe.” Asher released his hold of Jessica and stepped closer to his sister, reaching for her arm, his coat falling to the ground in the process.
She shook her head and yanked her arm back before he could even touch her.
“It was safe for you, once upon a time.” The bitter bite of Sarah’s words couldn’t be missed, even with the competition of the surrounding noise.
“Why are you with Angelo?” Asher’s arms locked at his sides and Jessica caught the familiar bunching of his fists. “Why’d you cheat on Greg?”
Sarah’s pink lips parted, and she brushed her fingers through her long, silky brown hair. There was a twin-like resemblance between Sarah and her Sicilian mother.
“Greg’s an asshole. Sarah found him pounding some woman in the ass in her kitchen.” Angelo smoothed his hand down his neck, enveloped by inked flames. “I wanted to kill the bastard, but she wouldn’t let me.”
Asher’s arms folded across his chest, and she noticed the tension in his chiseled jaw, even beneath his thick beard, as he eyed the pair in front of them. Jessica’s fingers swept to his bicep, hoping to somehow remind him of, well, something.
He glanced at her, and his breathing slowed ever so slightly.
“Greg told me it was you who cheated,” he said in a calmer voice as he faced his sister again.
“He’s lying,” Sarah shouted over the sudden cheers from the crowd.
“Three years of marriage down the drain.” She dialed up her volume even more.
“Banging his coworker because he couldn’t think of anything more original.
He thought I was working at the restaurant, and then—” She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle emotions, and one thing was for sure: Sarah was telling the truth. A woman burned was hard to miss.
Angelo wrapped a hand over Sarah’s shoulder, and his dark brows drew inward. “I’m not the enemy.”
“I still don’t understand why you’re here.” Asher’s stance relaxed a hair, but not by much.
“Because Angelo kept me from falling to pieces.” A small hint of a smile graced Sarah’s lips. “He saved me.”
Asher’s head dropped forward as if pained by the idea of them together. It was never easy for a brother to cope with his little sister and another guy. Well, at least from her experience, it wasn’t.
Luke scared off any guy who ever came near Jessica, which probably was one of the reasons why she’d rarely lasted for more than a date or two with guys in the past. And Teamguys Luke had declared off-limits; although, it’d already been one of her own rules.
She had no idea how Luke would react if he discovered she’d had hot, sweaty sex with one of his right-hand men . . . even if it was before Asher had known she was Luke’s sister.
“Angelo and I have been friends for years. He looked after me when you took off for the Navy.” Jessica heard the squeeze of emotion in her tone, despite the booming sounds from all around. “You’ve been absent from my life for a long time aside from occasional texts and calls.”
“You didn’t touch—”
Angelo held up a palm. “She was fifteen when you left. So, no.”
“What the hell changed, then?” Asher’s arms fell to his sides as if they were anchored to the concrete.
“Greg screwing his coworker changed things,” Sarah rushed out. “Angelo was there for me. He’s still here for me.”
“No,” Asher bit out. “I’m your brother. I’m here. You don’t need someone like him in your life. He’s—”
Sarah poked Asher in the chest, the muscle straining in her jaw. “But you’re not here for me. You’ve been in New York for the last two months, and how many times have you visited me?” Her index finger flipped up. “One time. For like an hour on Christmas.” She huffed. “You should go.”
“I’m not leaving here without you.”
Angelo took a step forward. “Listen, things have changed. I’m not the same man I was three years ago.”
Asher faked a laugh and then spread open his arms, palms up. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I run fights, but that’s it. Nothing else.” Angelo’s eyes focused on Asher and then flitted over to Jessica. “If you’re not here to watch a fight, or to fight someone yourself . . . you should do what your sister wants and go.”
“Please, Ash. I can’t leave with you. I’m happy. And if you care about me, you’ll walk away.” Sarah’s voice broke, and the crowd boomed again.