She didn’t say a word and kept staring out the window.
Yep. She was giving him the silent treatment too. Unfortunately, Mercer knew that he deserved it.
They went and paid cash for a room. Mercer had specifically asked for one along the backside of the motel so that he could park his Tahoe out of sight from the road. They drove around the back to the room. The place was a lot neater and cleaner than Mercer had thought it would be just based on the outside appearances of the motel. It was, however, a very standard room set up. There were two full beds parallel to each other and two end tables with lamps. Two chairs framed a dresser with an older TV sitting on top. The very standard bathroom sat tucked away in the corner of the room.
It was only when Mercer had carried in their bags (and the case in the trunk that held his M4A1 carbine in it) with Ashlen following behind him that he started to realize how tiny the room was. He was already a pretty large guy. He liked larger spaces. Mercer wondered how he was supposed to ignore Ashlen’s beautiful body when they were practically going to be living right on top of each other.
Shaking his head, he threw his jacket down on the bed nearest the door and pointed to the other bed.
“Take the one away from the door and window.”
She complied and moved over to the other bed, plopping herself down on her side so that she faced away from him.
Yikes, this was going to be a long day with her, he realized.
“I’ll give you first dibs on the bathroom if you want it,” he said, trying to make his voice as soft and friendly as possible.
It was a desperate attempt to try and make peace with her, but unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot that was soft and friendly about him.
“No,” she said quietly. “You’ve been driving all night. You should go first.”
Mercer reluctantly went to use the bathroom, leaving the door open just a crack, so he could keep an eye out on the other room. He pissed and then showered. It felt good to stand under the hot water. He had been on edge since the encounter with Marino’s goons. Bryant had warned him about the dangers, but he had not been expecting to come face to face with trouble so soon.
After he had finished, he began toweling off, moving the towel across the rest of his scars and burn marks that continued down the right side of his body. His knee was now beginning to protest the long car ride and was stiffening up quite a bit. He’d had to check his bag and see if he had anything for the pain.
It was only after he had finished drying off that he heard something that didn’t sound right in the next room. He threw on his boxers and pants—not bothering with the shirt—and bolted out of the bathroom with his gun to see what was wrong.
Ashlen was curled up on the bed in a little ball. She was shaking and sobbing and crying into her pillow, her face buried.
“What’s wrong?” He demanded, scanning the room briefly for signs of trouble. Everything seemed to be the way it should be.
With his voice, Ashlen quickly sat upright in the bed, wiping her eyes frantically. Mercer had a feeling that she hadn’t intended for him to see her like that. It looked like she was trying to conceal something on her left arm. He came over to the bed and grabbed her arm. She looked away but didn’t attempt to pull away from him. He looked down at her wrist, and a low growl escaped his lips.
Her left wrist was purpling from where the drunk had grabbed her. Why hadn’t she said anything? He could have gotten ice for it hours ago. He tried for a few moments to control his temper. Mercer didn’t want her to think that his anger was directed at her. It was directed one hundred percent at the drunk who Mercer now wished had gotten a lot more hurt than laid out on his back.
“You should have told me you were hurt,” he told her quietly.
“It’s just bruised,” she said, still keeping her head turned away from him.
“Ashlen, look at me,” he ordered.
She tentatively turned her head but kept her eyes focused on the bed instead of him.
“In the eyes,” he said more firmly than before.
When she finally was able to hold his gaze, Mercer did something that surprised even himself. He knelt, took his other hand, and cupped the side of her tear-drenched face.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he told her. Wow, he surprised himself with that one. “I shouldn’t have ever yelled at you. Yeah, my scars are a sore topic for me, but that didn’t give me any right to treat you like shit. I don’t want you scared of me. I can’t protect you if you’re afraid of me. Okay?”
She nodded slowly, her tears starting to come to a stop. Mercer reluctantly withdrew his hand from her face and let go of her wrist. He was beginning to have a hard time dealing with the fact that he had liked touching her quite a lot.
Don’t you dare, he warned himself, trying to shake the notion from his head.
When he stood up—slowly because of his bum knee—Ashlen gave an audible gasp. She was staring at his bare chest, probably in shock of the scars and burn marks that trailed the far-right side of his torso and arm.
“Afghanistan. Roadside mine,” he offered.
He figured he should at least give her that information.
Her face was turning red.
Huh?
She looked embarrassed. What was she supposed to be embarrassed about?
Then he realized it: She wasn’t gawking at his scars. She was staring at his bare chest.
Mercer was proud to admit that years of being a Marine had chiseled his body into a hard machine. His body fat percentage was low, and he had a lot of muscle. It made for a nice contrast that women usually liked, despite the scars. And the way Ashlen had been looking at him certainly seemed like she had liked what she saw.
That was an interesting development, one that he unfortunately could not act on as her bodyguard. Well, he could act on it, but it would make his job protecting her a little awkward.
Also, Bryant would kick his ass. Bryant’s warning the day before was ringing loudly in Mercer’s mind.
To save her any more embarrassment, he turned away and casually told her, “The bathroom’s all yours.”
Although, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when she got up to leave. Ashlen Cole was amusing—to say the least.
“Yeah, okay,” she mumbled and quickly rushed in the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
✽ ✽ ✽
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
That was what Ashlen was: stupid. She slumped against the bathroom door and sighed. She couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to stare at Mercer’s gorgeous chest and abs like she had.
Well, she couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to get caught, more likely. Wow, did he have a hot body. His muscles were chiseled like a Greek statue. No, his muscles looked better than a Greek statue.
The scars and burn marks that ran down the far side of his body were secondary to the hotness of his body. Military. Well, ex-military. That made some sense now.
The thing that had caught her off-guard the most was the sweet and tender way he had apologized to her. Well, that was probably about as gentle as that man could get. She hadn’t thought that he was capable of such things. He was so grumpy and brooding. She was going to have to work with getting along with him.
However, she kept thinking back to the way he had cupped her face with his hand. She had to admit, some butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach when he had done that. She also had to admit that even when he had been acting like a complete creep toward her, there was something that she found very attractive about him.
He was a very handsome man. He had strong features that she loved in a man: strong jawline, soulful brown eyes, dark looks. And now that they had been traveling almost the whole night and morning, she could add a sexy five o’clock shadow to the mix. She wondered briefly what that scruff on his face would feel like against her bare stomach…
Okay, slow down there, girl, she told herself. This is not the type of guy that you want to get in
volved with. He seems the type who has already had his fair share of women. You’d get your heart broken big time with him. You’ve already gotten your heart broken once before. Don’t be stupid and let it happen again.
Yeah, and that was even supposing that he found her attractive at all. He probably just thought she was a big cry baby. She couldn’t believe that she had a little break down in front of him. Ashlen had just wanted a private cry while he was showering. She wanted to have some time to let it all out. People were out to get her. Her wrist hurt badly. And she was fleeing across several states with a man who was a stranger to her (and who had a gun and seemed to know how to use it).
Yeah, she had needed a good cry.
She looked up and around at the bathroom. A shower and a nap were sounding good right now. Even though she had been able to get a little sleep in the Tahoe, it hadn’t been nearly enough.
So, she stripped out of her clothes and took that shower, which was lovely. She redressed and cracked the bathroom door open and peered out into the room. Mercer was on his bed, apparently asleep. Happily, he still hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on again. She quietly made her way to her bed, taking another sneak peek at him. Plopping down on her bed, she curled up into a little ball.
It didn’t take her long to find the comforting oblivion of sleep.
Chapter 7
Hey Anderson!” Rodriguez called from his desk. “We got a match on a set of fingerprints from the house.”
Paul jerked his head up from his pile of files that he had been sifting through and bolted over to Rodriguez’s desk. Before Rodriguez’s little outburst, Paul had been trying to find some connections between Peter Cole and Marino that weren’t just speculations. Unfortunately, he hadn’t gotten nearly as far as he had wanted to.
Paul’s heart was racing when he arrived at his partner’s desk. Both men had stayed late at the field office back in Cincinnati that evening because forensics had been able to find a set of prints that weren’t Ashlen’s. It was already past six. Paul had felt compelled to try and do everything possible to find her. He was scared of what might happen to her.
“What have we got?” Paul demanded.
He told himself to calm down. He wasn’t going to be able to find Ashlen unless he was cool and collected.
“Yeah, this is interesting,” Rodriguez mumbled as he turned his computer screen so that Paul could see it as well. “I don’t think this guy is a casual acquaintance with Ashlen.”
Paul looked at the picture and then looked at the information in disbelief. They had just lucked out big time.
“The guy’s ex-military!” Paul exclaimed.
“Yep,” Rodriguez confirmed. “Sergeant Mercer Cade, Marine Corps. Eleven years of service, including several tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. It says here that he was Force Recon. Shoot, this guy is tough shit.” Rodriguez continued to scroll down through the information. “He was honorably discharged after he was injured by a roadside mine. It scarred up his face and body pretty good and shredded up his knee. Three surgeries. Current address unknown, but he was living at an apartment in Blacksburg, Virginia for approximately six months after he left the service. Current employment unknown.”
Paul’s heart was beginning to beat faster.
“Do we have a current picture of him?”
“Hold on,” Rodriguez said as he continued to scroll through the information. “Oh yeah. Look at this. I think this dude shouldn’t be too hard to spot.”
The most recent picture of him showed scarring down the far-right side of his face. He certainly looked like a thug. This, of course, made Paul uneasy. If this was the guy who snatched Ashlen, she might be in big trouble.
“Looks like he turned merc or thug, doesn’t it?” Rodriguez said.
“Yeah,” Paul said uneasily. “Let’s just hope that he’s working for Cole and not Marino. Regardless, I want a bulletin sent out to local law enforcement in Ohio and all the surrounding states with this guy’s picture on it. We’ll talk to West and see if we can’t send something out to the media as well. This Cade guy seems to be a pretty memorable person, so let’s see if anyone can remember seeing him. I’m going to run a vehicle registration check on him and see if we can’t figure out what he drives.”
Rodriguez nodded and got to work. Paul was somewhat relieved that they now had a lead, but he was starting to get worried about Ashlen. What kind of man was this Cade guy? The man had certainly sacrificed for his country, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. At least they were certain this was the guy who had Ashlen. He certainly was not a boyfriend who would casually come over to her house. Paul knew Ashlen too well. She liked clean-cut, decent guys.
If that guy has laid one hand on her, I will personally rip his balls off, he thought darkly before returning to his work.
✽ ✽ ✽
Ashlen woke up with a start. The lights were on in the tiny hotel room. Mercer was up, his shirt now on.
Damn.
Everything looked okay, but what was that noise that had woken her up?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Yep, that was it.
Someone was at the door. Mercer looked over at her, noticing that she was awake, and held a finger to his lips. She saw that his gun was tucked into a holster that sat along the back of the waistband of his jeans.
Crap.
Her fingers dug into the covers on her bed, a lump rising in her throat. Mercer looked through the peephole slot and then carefully unlocked and opened the door.
“China Town Express delivery for a Mr. Jones,” the accented voice said through the partially opened door.
Ashlen looked at the clock on the table by her bed. It was almost nine o’clock. She had slept right through lunch and most of the evening. Had he gotten them dinner?
Without opening the door any more than he already had, Mercer accepted the bags and then threw a bunch of cash at the deliveryman.
“The rest is yours,” he said to the man and closed the door, locking it immediately.
Mercer turned toward her with the bags in hand and said, “Dinner’s ready.”
There was a slight smirk to his face—a grin almost. She suddenly felt embarrassed that she had slept the day away. However, she was more perplexed that his stone-cold demeanor had cracked.
Could it be that he was smiling? Ashlen could not remember him ever smiling. Perhaps there were more sides to Mercer Cade than dark, brooding, scary, and being a complete asshole?
Mercer laid out the various boxes along the dresser, which happened to be the only decently sized surface in the room. There was also a two-liter of soda in it as well and a bag of ice.
“Dig in,” he told her as he grabbed the nearest carton and a fork. “Use the ice for your wrist.”
Ashlen patiently waited to have the ice tied to her wrist. Afterward, she and Mercer began eating in silence. She devoured a chicken lo mein as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Ashlen wasn’t sure why it tasted so good, but she wasn’t going to question it.
After scarfing down the food, she noticed how quiet Mercer was. She had noticed that he wasn’t one to talk much. Ashlen, on the other hand, loved to chat. She was a social butterfly of all her friends and loved companionship. It unnerved her that she would be with the tall and brooding man who had rescued her.
Tired of the silence between them, she decided to start running her mouth, something that she immediately regretted.
“So,” she started, trying to sound casual. “You were in the military. Army?”
There was an interesting sound that he made, almost halfway between a grunt and a growl before he replied, “Hell no. Marines. Force Recon. Semper Fi.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, trying to think of ways not to piss him off more. He was more than a little bit frightening when he was pissed off. “Force Recon—isn’t that like the special ops for Marines?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” he said, taking another bite of his food.
“So, you go on the really danger
ous missions, right?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Ashlen sighed.
She was getting nowhere with this. She decided to try one more question, hoping that this one wouldn’t piss him off.
“And you’re not in the Marines anymore, are you?” She asked, crossing her fingers that she wouldn’t get her head bitten off again. “You work for that Gray Tower company now.”
Mercer sat there, silent for a moment, and then said, “Kinda hard to be a Marine when your knee is fucked up.” He pointed to the knee on the scarred side of his body.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Common sense should have told her to stop prying, but she felt a little uneasy having a bodyguard who she knew nothing about. Sure, her uncle had sent him to her, but with the types of people he dealt with that didn’t mean much.
“So, if you’re not in the Marines anymore, what do you do at Gray Tower? Besides bossing people around, I mean.”
He glared at her between bites of food before finally saying, “Gray Tower is a private military group who specializes in this type of stuff.”
Don’t ask it. Don’t ask it.
“So, they’re okay with…your knee…being the way it is?”
Ugh. She had asked it.
Stop talking, she told herself.
He stopped mid-chew and stared at her, and she tensed, expecting another outburst from him.
Instead, he shrugged and said, “They don’t seem to mind.”
Ashlen breathed out a sigh of relief. Silence was golden sometimes. She should practice that more often.
They continued eating in silence for a few more moments when he suddenly turned toward her and said, “Okay, since we’re playing twenty questions, here’s one for you: Do you enjoy bitching about men for a living, Miss Single in Cincy?”
Uh-oh.
He had read her blog. She had hoped that he hadn’t, but it was obvious now that he had done some research on her before breaking into her house and scaring the daylights out of her. However, she was rested, fed, and was now feeling a bit spunky. Besides, if he hadn’t done anything to her now—like harm her, for example—he wasn’t going to, right? He was hired to protect her, so what could he possibly do to her?
Perilous Games (Gray Tower Book 3) Page 6