by S F Benson
Asher runs a hand through his sandy blond hair. “You can’t do that shit in Ohio. Correction. No more settling arguments with your fists, dude. Not here, not anywhere else. Like, one day someone’s going to make you eat your words. I can’t keep running to save your ass, Mark. Rihana’s getting closer to her due date.”
Damn.
Another kid?
I knew he enjoyed being a father, but how many kids did it take to satisfy them? “What’s this? Baby number four?” I quip.
“Three, smart ass.” His lips curl. “We’re expecting another boy in a few months. You’d know that if you kept in touch.”
Asher glances out the window as the car inches forward. His mood shifts gears like the driver of the car. “I’m serious. No more bail outs. Got any plans besides starting fights, Mark?”
I slouch and lean my head against the seat. “I know, I know. And no, I don’t have any plans. My father offered me a job, but I don’t know the first thing about import-export shit. Don’t wanna know either.”
Actually, my father said if I didn’t come work in the family business, he was cutting me off. Not a shocker. He’s never approved of my lifestyle. Plus, we’ve never been close. My father thought he fulfilled his parental obligations once I entered Riza.
Words between my father and I were always far and few between. The ones we had were constantly combative and condemning. Our last ones involved me telling him to fuck himself and him calling me a deviant—his actual words were a lot more colorful and stronger. To emphasize his point, he slammed the door in my face, shutting me out of his life. It sounds better when I tell people I just didn’t want to learn the business.
“Then come back with me,” Asher invites.
“And do what?” I prop my elbow up on the arm rest and look out the window. “Watch you write? No, thank you.”
“My grandfather didn’t fill your position with the team. It’s honest work with real pay. You get a roof over your head too.”
The last place I want to be is around my best friend on a daily basis. It’s too hard on me. It's why I walked away and stayed away for so long. To be honest, this car ride is testing my resolve. My life would be easier if I fessed up, but after all this time it wouldn’t solve anything. Just complicate shit for everyone involved.
“Come on, Mark,” he says getting excited. “I could, like, use the company.”
I glance over at him and ask, “What happened to Aoki and Sweetheart?”
Asher smiles at my mention of Tru Shepard’s code name. “They moved into their own place closer to town.”
When did that happen?
My face twists in confusion.
“Dude, they got married two months ago.” He shakes his head. “They would have sent you an invite, but no one knew where you were staying.”
“I’ve been around.” A nice way of saying I’ve been close to homeless. After my family turned their backs on me, I slept on friends’ sofas. Some nights I stayed in shithole motels. This time around I couldn’t count on my cousin Griffin to help me out.
“Staying with Griffin?”
“Hell no. He won’t forgive me for helping you and Aoki.” I shake my head. “I’m surprised Coco Chanel said nothing, though.”
One of Asher’s eyebrows raises. “You and Ko an item again?”
“Naw. She’s let me stay at her place a few times, that’s all.” Koko Castaneda and I used to be into each other. Actually, it’s more fair to say she liked fucking around with me, and I was into her. Her feistiness is a turn-on some times and a turnoff at others, but she’s the closest I’ve ever been to loving a woman. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.
“Have things gotten better with her mom?” Asher’s voice takes on a curious tone.
“Ko would be better off staying with her. They haven’t been close since Ko’s father was killed.” Thanks to our former government there have been a lot of senseless deaths. “Ko found some crappy ass apartment over in New Jefferson sector. It ain’t nothing to write home about, trust me.” I’ve been trying to get her to move, but she says she can’t afford anything better. Her pride keeps her from asking anyone for help.
With caution, Asher asks, “Is she okay?”
Although he’s happily married with a couple of kids, I guess Asher hasn’t forgotten the time he spent with Ko. He was too deep undercover and ended up in a relationship with her. I don’t think they fucked, but he nearly ruined his marriage with a beautiful woman over whatever happened. Asher’s lucky things worked out for him. I do know that his wife asked him to cut off all ties with Ko. All the letters she wrote Asher were returned unopened. But I’m not telling my friend I saw the stack. It’s not my place to tell him how badly he hurt Ko—he knows.
The situation between Ko and Asher is why I always refused those kinds of undercover assignments. You always lose a bit of yourself. My world is jacked up enough without that kind of drama.
“She’s still not over you, Ash,” I say somberly. “You did a serious number on her.”
Asher Jones has that effect on people… all people.
He hangs his head and mutters, “I’m sorry to hear that. She was part of the job. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
Yeah, keep telling yourself that my friend.
The moment passes, and Asher lifts his head. “So, you have no excuse. Come to Los Alamos, Mark. It’ll be like old times.”
Old times? I don’t think so. We can never go back in time. If we could, I’d erase my memories and put an end to my misery.
CHAPTER
two
“Is there a requirement for true friends? If there is, I’d say it’s being a helper through the tough times.”
—from Sessions with Abigail Ramirez-Lee, Psy.D., P.C.
Asher
Why is it so damned important for me to save a man who doesn’t want saving? No matter what trouble Mark Carter finds himself in I’m there pulling his ass out of the fire. My shrink says I’ve got this savior complex thing going on—I couldn’t save my family so, I feel I have to save everyone else. At least that’s how I think she put it.
Honestly? I just don’t want to see Mark get himself hurt or worst. We’ve been through too much together. I just want him happy. He’s probably not the kind of man to settle down with one woman and have a kid or two. But he could find some shred of happiness.
“Okay. Maybe not like old times, but we could catch up. You know make up for lost time? Dude, I’ve missed having you around.”
A pained expression crosses Mark’s face. “Yeah. Same here.”
“So, you’ll come back to Los Alamos?” I feel like a girl begging some guy to stay, but it’s not like that. Zared’s not around much any more and I’m lonely. Rihana and the kids make me happier than I ever imagined. But I’m fucking lonely.
Mark side-glances at me. “You’re pitiful. You know that, right?”
“No more pitiful than you, Outlaw.”
He punches me in the shoulder. “You got me beat.”
Just for a moment… I feel like my old self. My best friend is back by my side and everything will be all right.
GLOSSARY
Alliance: the rebel organization in opposition to the New Order
ATF: the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives
AR: American Republic, the name of the former United States
CHA: Centers for Human Advancement, run by the government
EFD: electric field detector
Hybrid: a multi-ethnic person living in the AR
IRA: Irish Republican Army
MRE: Meals Ready to Eat
Network: a splinter unit of the Alliance
New Order: the technocratic government of the AR
Peshmerga: military forces for Iraqi Kurdistan
Purebred: a person of single ethnicity
Resistance: what the New Order is calling rebels
RMA: Riza Military Academy
TAFE: the Bureau of Terrorist Activi
ty, Firearms, and Explosives
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you so much for reading Asher and Rihana’s story. It was never my intention to build on Asher’s character, but when I finished Release, I knew he had more to say. While I was drafting Restore, he let me know that there was more to the tale. You’ll get that in the final novel—Renegade—in 2018.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As usual, I owe so much gratitude to my family who endure my crazy times while writing.
I thank my editor, Maria Rosera. She never fails to educate and keep me on track.
A special thanks goes out to my cover designer, Marisa Shor of Cover Me Darling. She took my idea and came up with a phenomenal cover.
Of course, I have to thank the readers. Without you, this series wouldn’t have continued.
And finally, I thank my parents—without them none of this would have happened.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SF Benson, a Michigan native, resides in Georgia with her husband, a human daughter, and a couple of miniature fur kids (two female short-haired guinea pigs). At one time, she wrangled a household which included three Samoyeds, saltwater fish, a hamster, and three guinea pigs. She’s an avid bookworm who appreciates a well-written book regardless of genre. SF prefers writing stories about strong, diverse protagonists set in dystopian, science fiction, or paranormal worlds.
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