A lump began forming in the back of his throat and he cleared it quickly away. He missed hearing his mother’s advice. She’d know exactly what he needed to do to fix everything and get his life back on track. When he’d left Remy for Washington, he knew she wanted to get married, but the idea of marriage freaked him out, and that hadn’t changed. He saw what commitment did to people, how that vow of sticking it out through thick and thin destroyed lives when people gave themselves completely to someone else. Remy had loved Asher blindly, not realizing the danger he could be to her. After his mother died, Asher couldn’t function normally, let alone find a way to make sure he didn’t become his father. A man who took and took from a woman until she had nothing left to give. It occurred to him now that he could do the friends with benefits thing as long as Remy wanted, but he would eventually have to let her go. Not falling for her again was challenging, but he only needed to look back into his memories of his mother lying in the hospital bed to remind him why he wanted more for Remy than he could give.
“Asher.”
He jerked toward the voice coming from his door, realizing that hadn’t been the first time his name had been called. Boone and Rhett burst out laughing as they filed into his office.
“Got a certain woman on your mind?” Rhett asked, dropping down onto a chair.
Asher nearly answered but then felt the tension coming off Boone as he took the seat next to Rhett. “What’s up?”
“There’s been a development,” Boone said, handing Asher a thumb drive.
Asher plugged it into his computer, then opened the file. The moment the video popped up on his screen, he realized the development hadn’t been a good one. “Shit.” He leaned in toward his computer monitor, watching Damon being stabbed with a homemade shank in the jail’s hallway surrounded by a dozen or so men in orange jumpsuits. “Did this happen today?” he asked.
Boone nodded. “Yeah, earlier this afternoon, but we just got a hold of the video now.”
Asher kept watching the video, seeing the exact moment that Damon took his final breath, his jumpsuit completely covered in blood. The man attacking him eventually jumped up and a moment later, the guards stormed in. Asher sat back in his chair causing it to squeak beneath him and crossed his arms. “What do we know of the killer?”
“Not much, except that the killer’s wife received a large cash gift in her bank account a few days ago from an offshore account,” Rhett reported.
Asher didn’t like the sound of this. “A hired hit?”
“Looks like it,” Boone agreed with a nod.
“Damn,” Asher grumbled.
“Speaking of that hired hit,” Rhett said. “I did a little more digging on Violi and am beginning to get an idea of why he’s here.” He hesitated, then said slowly, “Violi’s sister was one of Fanning’s victim.”
“You’re fucking kidding me?” Asher asked, incredulous.
“Shocked the hell out of me too,” Rhett said, lifting a file folder in his hand.
Asher took all this in. The Damon he knew was a fool, but to have this level of stupidity seemed unbelievable. “Fanning actually scammed the sister of a known dangerous criminal?”
“I’m guessing he didn’t know who he was dealing with,” Boone said with a shrug. “When he met Violi and discovered who he was messing with, he ran.”
“A possibility,” Asher agreed with a slow nod. “But then why not just pay back the money? Fanning’s got millions in his account.”
“A good question only Fanning could answer,” Boone said, dryly.
Too bad they couldn’t ask him. Asher hated Fanning, but he hadn’t wished Fanning dead. Remy filled his thoughts. He wondered how she’d react to this news. He considered next steps and how to even proceed now. “Violi has the connections to secure a hit like this?”
“If he’s hanging around the King criminal family who meet up at Antonio’s, without a doubt,” Boone confirmed.
Still, where did that leave them? Nowhere. What they knew and what they could prove were two different things.
Asher pondered what he’d heard. Back in the nineties, the King family had been big players in racketeering and money laundering. When the head of that family, Stefano, got taken down and put into jail, most of the organized crime in Whitby Falls ended. Until Stefano’s son, Joaquin, got old enough to take over. He was a smarter criminal than his father, and a rich one at that.
Obviously, following Asher’s line of thinking, Boone added, “We can look, but if King’s men are involved, we will find absolutely nothing tying Violi to Fanning’s death. It’ll look like a fight between inmates.”
“Who’s working the case?” Asher pressed on.
“Detective Smithson in Whitby Falls is looking into the large deposit into the suspect’s wife’s account,” Boone reported. “But even that will be neat and tidy, and they’ll have a reason to explain it all.” Frustration tightened the corners of Boone’s eyes. “Joaquin King and his men are a step ahead of the game, always.”
And they all knew why. Whitby Falls had a few dirty cops in their ranks. They always seemed to avoid the clean cops attempting to take them down, and internal investigations had yet to weed them out.
Asher’s back stiffened at the thought of Remy being anywhere near anyone connected to Joaquin King. “Which wife was Violi’s sister?”
“The most recent one,” Rhett said, opening the file folder and handing Asher a photograph.
Asher studied the picture. The woman looked nothing like Remy, a complete opposite with dark features and dark hair. Asher dropped the photo onto his desk, then rubbed at the tension along his neck. “That explains why Fanning only managed to get a few hundred thousand from her. He got a lot more from the other wives.”
Rhett inclined his head. “That’s where my thoughts went too. Fanning must have realized that scamming more money from her would’ve sent him to the grave. He took what he had and booked it.”
Asher inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. “I want this cleaned up for Remy, and yet, somehow we only seem to get more in the thick of it as things go by.”
“With Fanning gone now,” Boone said, causing Asher to lower his hands, “this guy has gotta be on his way soon.”
“Let’s hope for that,” Asher said.
Rhett rose from his chair and moved to the doorway. “Besides, Fanning’s death happened in Whitby Falls’s jurisdiction. It ain’t our problem. The way I see it, Remy got her justice too. Violi will be gone, and we can put this matter to bed.”
“Is anything ever that easy?” Asher asked with a snort.
“This time, let’s hope so,” Rhett said before leaving the office.
Boone rose from his seat and said, “Thought you should know that Kinsley called a bit ago. Remy’s at the bar and she looks upset but won’t talk about it.” He made it to the door, then turned back. “Let me know if something’s up.”
Asher nodded. “Does she know about Fanning?”
Boone shook his head. “No one knows but us.”
Asher watched Boone leave his office and then he cleaned up his files and his desk. He grabbed his leather jacket on the back of the door on his way out. The station was bustling, a couple cops walking a handcuffed inebriated woman into the back of the station. Two officers were typing up reports, and the receptionist was busy on the phones. Asher was only thinking about Remy when he made it outside, sliding into his jacket as the cool autumn air brushed over him. He walked the few blocks, the leaves blowing down the street, and he entered Kinsley’s bar a moment later.
On the black shiny stage, a woman with a gravelly voice sang her heart out while playing the piano. He found Remy sitting at the bar, her shoulders curled, with Kinsley standing on the other side of the bar, her chin in her hand, saying something to Remy.
When Asher got closer, Kinsley saw him coming and straightened. Her mouth moved again, then she turned away and headed toward the end of the bar. She must have told Remy he was
coming, because she looked his way when he slid onto the stool. He took one look into her face and frowned. “You know about Damon.”
She nodded. “Lars told me.”
Asher’s back straightened. “You spoke to him?”
“When I closed up the shop, Lars was sitting on a bench outside and told me.” She glanced away and sipped her vodka and lime. A drink that was her go-to stressed-out drink. “Obviously, he had some part in that.”
Asher’s gut twisted at Lars being anywhere near Remy. He nodded, then gestured at Kinsley to bring him the same drink as Remy. “We’re assuming the same thing.”
She swallowed her drink, then glanced sideways at him. “I guess you know then that Damon was married to Lars’s sister?”
“Just learned that myself,” Asher said with a nod, when Kinsley placed the drink in front of him. Obviously aware of the tension, she hurried off again. He took a long sip of the drink, relishing the bite of the vodka. “While I wish he would stay away, we’ve got our answer now for why he was here.”
“Yeah, I guess we do,” she said, staring into her glass.
Asher took in her empty stare, her flat, monotone voice, realizing she wasn’t scared about Lars at all. “It’s okay to be sad about Damon’s death,” he told her gently.
“I don’t know what I am right now,” she said after a long moment.
“Sad but confused about being sad because he tried to steal your inheritance?” Asher offered.
She shrugged, still staring down into her drink. “Something like that, I guess.”
“You cared about Damon. Were with him for a year. You almost married him,” Asher said, tucking his finger under her chin to capture her gaze. He wished he could steal the sadness from her eyes. “That doesn’t go away in a day, no matter what he did to you. All this is confusing shit. But your feelings, what you felt with him, those are true and honest, and it’s okay to mourn the fact that the guy you cared about died today. You’ve got a big heart, Remy, feel what you need to feel.”
Her chin quivered and tears welled in her eyes.
Fuck Damon. Fuck Lars. Asher didn’t need to see more than that. He gathered Remy in his arms, pulling her in close, and let her cry against his chest, satisfied with knowing that tonight, nothing else could hurt her.
* * *
Another vodka and lime later, the bar was packed full. The opening act, which had been an up-and-coming blues singer, had wrapped up an hour ago, and the headline act was now belting out some dirty jazz that had the crowd on their feet. Most people were up on the dance floor. Boone and Peyton were up there, but Rhett, Asher, and Remy stayed back at the bar with Kinsley. Not that they saw much of her; she was busy tending the bar. And Rhett was busy hitting on the brunette next to Remy, which only made Kinsley stay far away. Remy hoped one day that Rhett noticed Kinsley in the way that Kinsley noticed Rhett. Even if nothing came of the relationship, because Rhett was such good buddies with Boone, at least Kinsley would be seen.
Remy glanced next to her at Asher, his gaze on the band on stage. She hadn’t lied to him earlier; she still didn’t know how she felt about Damon’s death. She was sad, yes, but confused by that sadness too. She supposed that maybe this would give her closure. She didn’t have to wonder where Damon was and if he was still in jail. But there was this little part of her that felt broken by his death. No matter what he’d done to her, he didn’t deserve that fate; no one did.
The crowd cheered and clapped at the end of the song, then quieted when the singer took to the microphone again. Remy looked Asher’s way again and found him looking at her. He stared for a long moment before the side of his mouth curved. She supposed if anything, Damon’s brutal death was a reminder of how short life was. Here one minute. Gone the next. Asher had been there lately in a way she never thought he’d be there for her again. And more and more, she was seeing his pain past hers…theirs to deal with together. She felt the pull to him like she always did, drawn to be closer, forgetting everyone else in the room. His blue T-shirt stretched against his chest and dark blue jeans fit his thick thighs to perfection, his hair falling free of the gel he must have put in this morning, and he looked lethal and sexy all at once. It occurred to her that she got where she was now by doing exactly what she wanted. And right now, lost in the building heat in his eyes, she wanted Asher.
She strode forward until she pressed herself against the strength of him. He dropped his chin and caressed her cheek before tucking her hair behind her ear. His mouth came to her ear then. “You want to get out of here?” he asked.
She nodded. “With you.”
His gaze flared with wicked promise as he cupped her face and then his mouth met hers, and there was no crowd, no music, just them. He kept the kiss sweet and pure until he tilted her head…then there was nothing gentle about it. He held her face tight in his grip, deepening the kiss until he left her breathless. She gripped his T-shirt, wanting more, and he chuckled and moved his mouth back to her ear. “Yeah, come on, let’s go.” He took her hand and led her toward the front door.
Remy had no doubt Rhett saw them together, maybe even Kinsley did too, but really, it didn’t matter anymore. She wanted to feel beautiful, sexy, and alive. Life was just so fucking short.
When they made it outside and headed down the alleyway to the back of the building, Remy noted the cruiser was gone. Asher had obviously taken over protective detail for the night, knowing he’d be in the bar with Remy. She pulled on Asher’s hand. Maybe it was the drinks giving her liquid courage, but after all he’d done for her, she couldn’t put it off any longer. “I never did properly thank you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Thanked me for what?”
She stepped closer, pressing her hands on his chest, feeling the steady race of his heart. “For protecting me from Damon.”
Asher dropped his mouth close to hers. “That is not something I ever need to be thanked for, Remy.”
She cupped his face, relishing in the hard lines of his body against hers. “Actually, I think you do. You didn’t need to keep an eye out for me, and you did that. You always have protected me, even when I didn’t see it. So, thank you, Asher.”
He brought his mouth even closer. She felt his breath on her lips. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again: I protect you, Remy. That’s what I do.” Then he kissed her, and that was really all she needed. She felt the wildly out of control emotion in every swipe of his lips across hers. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
When his kiss turned hot and wicked, leaving her mouth to move to her neck, she slid her hands into his hair, desperate to get closer. He grasped her hips and turned her around until she was placed in the shadows at the back of the building. His mouth returned to hers and he kissed her harder, a low growl ruminating from his chest speaking to the feminine side of her. She felt safe and beautiful when Asher touched her and took control of the pleasure.
His kisses skimmed her jawline, then moved to her neck, and she slid her hand between them until she stroked his erection outside of his jeans. He groaned in her ear, making goose bumps rise along her arms. She played right there, using her fingers to trace his thick cock until she rubbed the tip. Asher finally brought his mouth back to hers. This time, he didn’t kiss her; he devoured her. She nearly let him until she wanted something more. She broke the kiss and switched the positions. His back was now against the wall. “Can the cameras see us in this corner?” she asked.
His eyes were dark, full of desire. “No.”
“Good.” She grinned and reached for his jeans. She freed his hardened cock, stroked him twice, and then squatted in front of him and took him into her mouth.
“Fuck, Remy,” he growled.
She glanced up, finding his head tipped back. Feeling powerful and sexy, she sucked on the tip knowing how much he liked that, and he dropped his head, looking at her. Her stomach clenched with the heat burning between them. Letting him watch her, she slowly licked from the base to the tip, lo
ving his slight tremble. He tangled his fingers tangled in her hair, and she knew what that meant too. He wanted more.
She took him deeper into her mouth, sucking her lips around him and stroking her hand in front of her mouth, until she heard his soft, low moan. She was already backing away, fully aware that that sexy, deep masculine sound indicated he wanted her. In seconds, his pants were back on, and she was in his arms, and he was carrying her up her steps. He put her down only for her to get her door unlocked and open, then he tugged her inside and slammed the door shut with his foot. He braced her face while he kissed her, until he began ripping at her clothes. Her shirt…gone. Her pants…gone. Those panties Peyton gave her…gone. He never stopped kissing her. Not when he unclothed her, or himself, or even when he sheathed himself in a condom.
He only broke away when he pressed her back against the door and hooked her leg onto his arm. “I need nothing like I need you.” He pressed himself against her and entered her in one swift stroke right to hilt, making her gasp and sending her on her tiptoes. “I want nothing like I want you.”
She moaned against the way he stretched her so perfectly. “You have me.”
He thrust forward hard, sliding his hands across her face. “Do I?”
“Yes.” She rocked her hips against his cock, needing more. “Asher, yes, don’t stop!”
Something primal and fierce came into his eyes then. He held her face, stared at her intently, and pumped his hips hard. This didn’t feel like lovemaking, this felt like possessive need, and she gripped him with the same desperation, feeling all those things too.
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