CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sierra
Feeling the urgency to talk to Asher about The Beast, I shower quickly and dry and flat iron my hair, apply minimal make-up and a new soft scent. I then dig through my new items, and hang some of them up on hangers beside Asher’s fatigues. Next to that part of him that is a soldier and fighter. I dress in faded, distressed jeans after trying on several pairs in different sizes. I pair them with an emerald green, long-sleeved V-neck sweater. My bra and panties are black. My boots are black Christian Louboutins with a red bottom. My hair feels soft. My clothes feel like mine, not someone else’s, even though I didn’t pick them out myself. No one else has worn them. Just me. And feeling like me is empowering. I’m not hiding anymore.
With that thought in mind, I rush to the stairs and pause with not just the sound of music but more so, to the sound of Asher singing Chris Young’s Losing Sleep. His voice is whiskey smooth perfection and the lyrics, bittersweet: Fall into me, let me breathe the air you breathe. I can take you anywhere you want to be.
I want to be here. I want to be with him, but more so, I want to do it without fear for him and everyone around him, which reminds me of my purpose. Tear down the cocky in him that might be driving him in the wrong direction. Give him the hard reality of what war means with Devin Marks. I inhale and start down the stairs, determination in my steps. I clear the wall to find Asher to my left at a high-top wooden kitchen table that is wide enough that he has three MacBooks in various positions and high enough that he’s sitting on a barstool. He grabs the remote next to him and lowers the music, his burning green eyes fixed on me.
I stop in front of him, on the opposite side of the table, but I don’t sit. I mean to say something about Devin, but the way he’s looking at me, all warm and wanting, has me backtracking. “Thank you. For all the things you bought me. I love them.”
“So that’s a yes? You’ll eat pancakes with me?”
I smile with his unassuming humor. “Thank you for that, too.”
“They aren’t here yet.”
I laugh. “I mean, for being you.”
His smile fades. “And not him?”
“Yes, actually. He’s a monster.”
“Good,” he says, his voice hardening. “Then I can’t be The Beast.”
He’s too confident. “You’re too confident.” I pull the tiny recording device I’ve been carrying around with me for nearly a year from my pocket and set it on the table. Asher glances at it and then me. “What is that?” he asks.
“A reality check you need.”
The doorbell rings. “That’s going to be our food,” he says, pushing to his feet, but instead of walking to the door, he rounds the table, and pulls me to him, his hand on my face, thumb stroking my cheek. “You checked my reality the minute I met you, but check it again and again all you want.” He kisses me. “After we eat.” He starts to walk away, but I grab his shirt.
“Tell me you know how dangerous he is,” I order.
“I know more about Devin Marks than perhaps even you do.”
“What does that even mean?”
“We’ll talk. Let me get the food.”
“I don’t care about the food.” My stomach growls.
“Let me get the food.”
“Asher—” The doorbell rings again and Asher’s hand comes down on the back of my head and he kisses me, a sexy slide of tongue before he says, “Damn woman, what are you doing to me?” He kisses me once more and heads for the door while I silently answer his question.
What am I doing to him? Quite possibly tying him down to get him to listen to that tape, and really hear it, if that’s what it takes. I contemplate the many benefits of such an action, when the door opens and I hear, “What the fuck are you doing here, Blake?” And then, “Hey, Kara.”
Oh God. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Did he tell Blake and Kara?
“I deliver you pancakes and that’s the thanks I get?” Blake demands.
Asher apparently leaves him at the door because he’s walking back toward me now with two bags in his hand. I stick the recorder in my pocket and turn away from him, pressing my hands back on the table and willing myself to keep a cool head. If he’s done this, he’s done this, and I have to head off any fallout. I’ll deal with him later. The door shuts, and I can hear Blake and Kara murmuring to each other. Asher sets the bags on the table and suddenly he’s beside me, turning me to him, but I don’t look at him. “I didn’t say anything,” he says, his voice for my ears only. “I keep my word.”
I look up at him. “You didn’t?”
“No. Okay?”
I nod and he laces his fingers with mine. “Come over here and eat with me.” He leads me around the table and pulls the stool next to his out for me. “Water or beer?”
And just like that I laugh. “Water. I’ll save the beer for the Funyuns.”
He winks at me while Blake says, “I’m in for the beer.”
“Oh, I love that green on you,” Kara says, claiming the seat across from me and indicating my shirt. “I knew it would look amazing on you.”
“Thank you and thank you for shopping for me. I love everything.”
“I’m so glad,” she says. “Next time we should go together.”
A knot forms in my belly at the idea of forming a friendship, any friendship. Something I didn’t have time for between school and my internship, and even if I had, Devin screened everyone. He called it a necessary security assessment that I later knew to be all about control. His control wiping away mine.
“I know things are challenging for you right now,” Kara adds when I don’t immediately answer.
“Yes,” I say. “They are, but at some point, maybe—I’d really like that.”
“This would probably be a good time for me to speak up,” Blake says, as he and Asher claim the seats across from each other. “I was an asshole to you, Sierra. I’m not normally an asshole, well, except to jerk-offs that deserve it, and that’s not you.”
“And to me,” Asher chimes in. “Where’s my apology?”
“Like I said,” Blake replies. “Except to assholes who deserve it.” He reaches into the leather bag he’s settled on the arm of the stool and then places a folder in front of me. “Consider this a peace offering. That’s your new identity.” He glances at Asher. “It hits all the hot points we talked about this morning.”
I don’t ask what the hot points are. I don’t want any conversation that leads them to talk about me. I simply flatten my hand on the folder. “Thank you. Sincerely. Is it live now?”
“Not only is it live,” Blake says, “I’ve got it set up to ping me any time you get a search. Which I can do on your real identity if I ever get to know that identity.”
“I know,” Asher says. “Leave it at that.”
Blake’s gaze shoots to his, and I don’t know what passes between them, but there’s a conversation there, and once it’s complete, Blake doesn’t push me. He moves on, glancing between us. “Both of you look over the file and make sure you don’t have questions,” Blake says. “But it’s done.” He eyes Asher. “Your father’s people already pinged Kelli Vincent.”
“Of course he did,” Asher says dryly. “Good ole’ pops.”
“And good thing we handled her,” Blake says. “I got it loaded thirty minutes before it was pulled.”
“What does that mean?” I ask. “Handled my ID?”
Asher turns me to him, in profile to Blake and Kara, hands on my knees. “Don’t freak out. Blake pulled a couple of photos from the Walker Security cameras. He will not, I will not, let it go elsewhere, but we had to attach a driver’s license to your new identity.”
“I doctored a few of them to create a high school and college history as well,” Blake says. “I gave you copies of everything that will pull when you’re searched for in that folder.”
“It was necessary,” Asher says.
“You can trust us,” Kara adds. “Whatever it is—”
“I’m not a criminal,” I say, turning to them and because this feels like it’s leading places I don’t want to go, at least not yet, I change the subject. “What about the photo Ju-Ju took of me?” I ask.
“Nothing has changed,” Blake replies. “He hasn’t uploaded it anywhere I can track, and I can track just about everything.”
“And he hasn’t left his house today,” Asher adds. “I’ve been in touch with Jacob.”
“That’s his typical behavior,” Kara says. “He stays in until he leaves for the bars.”
“What about food?” I ask. “Shopping?”
“He has everything delivered,” she says. “Have you looked at his file?”
“Not yet,” I say.
“Well, hurry the fuck up,” Blake says, and sets an envelope in front of me. “That’s your first consulting check, in the name of Kelli Vincent. We want you to take on the Ju-Ju case with us. Otherwise, we’ll do what you already pointed out as an obvious next move. Call in an expert.”
“I didn’t do this,” Asher says softly. “Blake is just an ethical guy. He does right by people despite the fact that he wanted to use you for bait.”
“Ju-Ju decided to make that a reality,” I say. “He’s targeted me.”
“Which is why you take the job with Walker,” Asher says, “And you walk away from the bar.”
“I can’t walk away,” I argue. “We’ve had this conversation. I’m not one of you. I study killers. I don’t go to war with them.” I laugh without humor. “Well, not by choice. It seems I’m pretty good at getting their attention. Ju-Ju terrifies me. He does. But how do I sleep at night if he targets someone else and actually kills them?”
“I don’t want you to become bait,” Asher says. “No. Correction. I won’t let you become bait for a serial killer.”
“I have a suggestion to help us evaluate Ju-Ju’s intentions toward Sierra,” Kara says, looking at me. “You’re staying here, right?”
“Yes,” Asher says, answering for me, his hand squeezing my leg under the table. “Sierra is with me now.” It’s about as alpha and controlling as it gets, but then he does this Asher-thing he does and he looks down at me. “I want you here, Sierra,” he adds, and it is a statement and a question.
“I’m here,” I say, offering no timeline for that reply. He hasn’t had that reality check and if he’s as smart as I think he is, it’s a game changer. I look at Kara. “What is your suggestion?”
“We need to know if Ju-Ju really is targeting you for multiple reasons. Is he really focused on you or not? If he’s not, and we decide he is, we could miss another target. And if he is, we need to make informed decisions about how to ensure that he doesn’t find you beyond the bar.”
“You obviously have a plan,” Asher says. “What is it?”
“I’d like to dress to appear as if I’m you,” Kara says. “Jackets. Hats. I’ll go in and out of your apartment.” She looks at Asher. “And don’t tell us to go to Europe. And don’t make me feel fear and guilt over my sister, who is with Kyle and all of Kayden’s men. I’m the only victim look-a-like we have. I’m not leaving when a killer is on the loose.”
“Actually,” Asher says, focused on Blake, not Kara. “We’re going to need you here.”
“Good,” Kara says, ignoring the obvious undertone of something more than Ju-Ju that I know is Devin Marks. “Our plan to have me dress up and move to and from the apartment works but there’s one catch.”
“What’s the catch?” Asher asks, his gaze jerking from Blake to her.
“We have no reason to believe that he’s followed her and found her apartment,” she says. “Maybe that is simply because he never goes to his victim’s homes. But if Sierra doesn’t go back to the bar, and he hasn’t found her, he might then.”
“Then I have to go back,” I insist. “We need him to stay focused on me, not someone else.”
“You’re not bait, Sierra,” Asher says. “End of discussion.”
I twist around to look at him. “We have to catch him.”
“We aren’t due back to the bar until Friday night. If he doesn’t show up at that piece of shit apartment before then, we’ll discuss what comes next.” His tone says we won’t, and his attention goes to Blake. “Let’s go to the balcony.” He stands up.
Blake pushes to his feet and rubs his hands together. “Oh goodie. I always do love a good balcony chat.”
The minute they walk away, Kara looks at me. “I know you know that at one point Blake suggested making you the bait, but that is not what this plan is about and that was not what it seemed. He was thinking of you as someone that was already bait. Someone we could save while catching Ju-Ju.”
“I am. He was right. I’m going to help with Ju-Ju. Whatever it takes, and no matter how much I have to fight Asher over it. But my experience is where I’m a real resource. Once I look at Ju-Ju’s file, I feel like I’ll have more to offer.”
“We’ll protect you, Sierra.”
I don’t think she’s talking just about Ju-Ju right now, but I don’t lead her any other place. “You mean, Kelli, right?” I open my new file and start to read. “Brunette with blue eyes,” I say. “Check.”
“Except that you need to do your roots. I see your new growth. You’re blonde.”
It’s a stupid sore spot that shouldn’t matter as much as it does. “I’m brunette,” I say, swallowing a knot in my throat and looking up at her. “The file says so.” I exhale and start to read again. “I’m also twenty-five and born April 11th.” I look at her again. “At least I got younger, not older.”
“Your parents were killed in a car accident when you were eight. This all checks out under inspection too, just to put your mind at ease. The new you was in foster homes, and bounced around, until you were eighteen. Again, that all checks out.”
I nod and flip to a new page in the file only to shake my head at what I find. “No. This doesn’t work. I can’t have a degree in criminal justice. It’s too close to my problem.”
“Hide somewhere in the middle,” Kara says. “That’s the point here. People who have to hide tend to go to one extreme or the other. Being too close to your past or too far apart is what gets you caught. The bar is actually dangerous. It’s the kind of place people on the run hide. We need you out of there.”
“The middle is the safe zone,” I say. “You’re sure?”
“Very sure and Blake knows how to fool-proof your identity. He does it for every Walker that goes undercover. He doesn’t trust anyone else to do it. Everything you’re seeing is a piece of a puzzle. Read more detail. You’ll see what I mean.”
I’m still not sure how I feel about that degree, but I glance down at the notes and try to take in the entire picture that’s been built for me. “I worked for a PI for the past three years,” I say, seeing the connection to the degree. “Is this a real PI firm I see listed?”
“Yes. The owner is a friend of ours and he only hires contract employees, all of which rarely know each other. The job will check out. And the story is this: You were working for the PI and crossed paths with Asher on a job. You two fell for each other and we recruited you to our team three months ago. You have payroll records for both jobs and an active bank account.” She slides the check in front of me. “Take the paycheck. We need your help with Ju-Ju and we’ll pay someone else if not you. And this not only supports your cover story, it reinforces it.”
I shake my head. “This isn’t going to work. This cover aligns me too closely to you and your team. It’s dangerous, especially to Asher. This makes him a target.”
“It’s what he wanted. He called us early this morning and asked us to connect you to him.”
“Why would he do that? He knows what, and who, I’m dealing with.”
“Don’t let his sense of humor fool you. That man is not just brute force. He’s cunning. He’s sharp as a razor and he will cut his enemy in creative ways that they never expect. He has a reason for everything he does and if he wants to hurt you, he wil
l.”
I’m reminded of Asher’s father, and Asher’s certainty that he could and would destroy him had he not gone into the Navy when he did.
“And I’ve never seen him look at a woman like he looks at you,” Kara adds. “I would not want to get between him and you.”
But Devin Marks does, and he’s not just cunning, he’s evil. Asher said himself I could leave when I had my new identity but if I leave, Ju-Ju is still free to go after someone else. I look up to find Asher standing at the other side of the table, staring at me and I know he’s reading my mind. I know he knows that I’m thinking of leaving. “It’s time to go, Kara,” Asher says, without looking at her.
Kara sets a card on the table. “That has my number if you need me.” She stands up and Blake joins her.
“We’ll lock the door on the way out,” Blake says, and they head to the door.
Neither Asher nor I move or speak until the door shuts. “You have the resources to leave, Sierra. I made sure of it. Now you have a choice. Stand with me and fight, or run. Which will it be?”
“Don’t say ‘run’ like I’m some sort of cowering fool,” I bite out, angry now. “I’m not, but despite Kara calling you smart and cunning, you might not be.” I grab the recorder from my pocket and set it on the table. “Your reality check.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Asher
Sierra punches play on the recorder and then grabs the back of the kitchen stool, as if bracing herself for what comes next.
“Your wife called the Ridell offices,” a familiar male voice that I can’t quite place, says, but I know Ridell. They make military robots. “She asked questions we don’t want asked,” the man adds.
“When?” Another male voice I know to be that of Devin Marks’s asks. “What questions?”
“Today,” the other man says. “She called from a payphone, but we used voice recognition. She pretended to work for you, and tried to find out when a delivery was going to happen. How the hell does she even know about Ridell?”