Chapter 10 #3
“Asher,” Daphne said quietly. “This is—”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little thick. “It is.”
She drove down the dirt road toward the main house. The road curved around plantings—sage and native grasses and rocks, the touch of professional landscaping.
A man emerged from the barn. Fifty-something. Weathered. Jeans and flannel. Cowboy hat. He raised a hand in greeting.
Asher nodded back. “That’s Duke. Ranch manager. He lives in the cabin. Manages the day-to-day. Leases the land for hunting. Takes care of the horses.”
“He knows you?”
He looked over at her. “Yeah, since I’m the owner.”
She blinked at him, turned back to the road.
Daphne pulled up in front of the main house. Stopped. Engine off. Silence settling.
For a moment, nobody moved. Just sat there. “This is your place?”
“Yeah,” Asher said and reached for the door.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
Destiny got out, and Roger too. He stretched. Looked around. “How much land?”
Daphne got out as Asher answered.
“Thirty-five acres.”
Roger whistled. “Nice. Very nice.” He headed toward the porch. “I need a bathroom. And about twelve hours of sleep. And possibly a drink.”
Daphne wanted to roll her eyes.
Asher followed him, moving carefully, holding his ribs.
She and Destiny followed him in.
The interior of the house stole her breath.
Open-floor plan. Soaring ceilings with massive exposed beams—rough-hewn timbers that looked hand-carved. A stone fireplace dominated one wall, the kind you could stand inside. Hardwood floors in varied tones—rich browns and golds that gleamed under a massive chandelier when he turned on the lights.
Leather furniture and woven rugs surrounded the fireplace. The kitchen held modern appliances and a huge island made from reclaimed wood.
“Bedrooms are upstairs,” Asher said. “Four of them. Take your pick. Bathrooms on each floor. Kitchen’s stocked—Duke keeps it supplied.”
He moved toward the stairs. Slow. Painful, judging by the way his jaw tightened with each step.
“I’ll get them settled,” she said. “You should rest. Change those bandages. Take some ibuprofen.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding through your shirt.”
“I said I’m fine, Daphne.” He stopped on the stairs. Looked back at her. “Just—give me an hour. Then we’ll talk. Plan. Figure out what comes next.”
He disappeared upstairs before she could respond.
Daphne stood in the beautiful house, listening to his footsteps overhead. Listening to Roger’s and Destiny’s voices somewhere else in the house.
So, he was a man of surprises. Frankly, she didn’t know what to think.
She checked out the house, moving from room to room. Exits. Windows. Security.
Asher Morrison had built a fortress.
Reinforced doors. High-quality locks. Cameras at every entrance. Motion sensors on the perimeter. Multiple exit routes. Clear sight lines from the house to all approaches.
This wasn’t just a ranch. This was a tactical position. A defensible location.
Why?
She went upstairs and found Destiny unpacking in one bedroom, Roger already asleep in another.
Daphne took the third bedroom. The one that looked east, toward mountains. Dropped her bag of essentials she’d picked up today between securing the vehicles. Didn’t unpack. Just stood at the window, looking at the view. The finest layer of molten dusk outlined the faraway mountains.
What wasn’t he telling her?
A knock on her door.
“Yeah?”
Asher opened it. He’d changed clothes into a clean denim shirt, fresh jeans. Hair damp from a shower. Bandages visible on his forearm. But functional. Upright.
“Thought I’d give you a tour,” he said. “Show you the security setup. Where everything is. In case something happens. You need to know how everything works.”
“Okay,” Daphne said. “Let’s see it.”
They walked the property together, Asher pointing out cameras and sensors and backup power supplies and escape routes.
A floodlight lit up the yard, and Duke joined them near the barn.
“Duke Mallory.” He shook Daphne’s hand. Didn’t ask questions. “If you need anything, just holler.” He gave Asher a look, a nod, then headed back to his cabin.
“He came with the property,” was all Asher said.
“It’s quite the place.”
“Yeah,” Asher said suddenly, voice quiet.
“Dad got sober in his last few years. Tried to make amends. Didn’t quite get there before the heart attack took him five years ago.
But he had an old union life insurance policy he’d never gotten around to updating—still had me listed from when I was a kid.
Maybe he finally got one thing right. Or maybe he just forgot to change the form. Either way, it paid for the land.”
He stopped walking. Looked at the house. The barn. The land spreading out before them. “My life looks pretty far away from that now.”
Daphne didn’t know what to say.
So she said the only thing she could think of. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. At the motel. After the attack.” She paused.
He lifted a shoulder.
But no, she needed to tell him. “I left the Marshals because my partner sold us out. Cut a deal with the cartel. Got our witness killed. He caught a bullet on the way out, but the damage was done.”
Asher frowned, looked over at her. But said nothing.
“I swore I’d never make that mistake again,” Daphne continued. “Never trust someone just because we were partners.” She met his eyes. “But you’re not him. You’ve proven that. And I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”
Asher was quiet for a long moment. Then he stepped closer. Close enough she could smell soap and clean cotton. Close enough she could see the fine lines around his eyes and the stubble on his jaw and the way his pulse beat in his throat.
His eyes dropped to her lips. Just for a second. Then back up.
“Thanks,” he said. Voice rough. Barely above a whisper.
Just that. Nothing more.
And shoot, right then, yes, she thought he might—wanted, in fact, for him to—kiss her.
Then, softly, he said, “No matter what happens, no matter what you find out, no matter what comes next—you can trust me. I promise you that.”
Oh. Daphne’s heart thundered, her breath catching.
His eyes dropped to her lips again. Longer this time.
She wasn’t breathing. Neither was he.
Yes.
As crazy as it was—as over-the-line and reckless and—
Yes.
She was almost ready to put her hands on his chest. To grip his shirt.
To pull him in herself—
Then he stepped back. “You should get inside,” he said. Voice tight. “Get some rest. It’s been a long day.”
Only then did she see his hands were clenched at his sides. His mouth made a grim line.
Oh. And her words from last night just turned her raw. Trust no one.
“Yeah,” she managed. “Okay.”
She turned. Walked back toward the house. Didn’t look back.
But she felt his eyes on her.
Inside the house, Duke had stocked the kitchen with frozen food, including a lasagna.
Destiny had decided to make herself useful and started the lasagna to bake. Was making a salad.
Behind her, the door opened, and Asher came in.
She just…okay, nearly fled to her room like a coward.
A coward who had almost kissed her partner like she’d abandoned her brains out there in the sultry ranch air.
Instead, she stood at the window, looking at mountains turning dark against a purpling sky. Stars emerging overhead. The creek, a silver ribbon in the darkness.
Five days. Five days to do the job without letting feelings compromise everything.
She could survive five stupid days.
Then this would be over. Then they’d go their separate ways.
And that was the only smart answer. Because Daphne Cross didn’t build her life around someone else. Didn’t wait at windows. Didn’t become her mother.
She survived.
Even if survival felt a lot like loneliness tonight.
Even if not kissing Asher Morrison felt a lot like a mistake she’d regret forever.