Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Okay, so he was bawling like a baby. But God in heaven—Asher blinked the tears out of his tired eyes, struggling to regain his composure—what kind of parents throw a beautiful, amazingly strong, compassionate woman-child, like Marlowe Rich away? For drugs and booze? Good Lord, he'd never understand how some people were born saints, while others were nothing but low-life bloodsuckers from the get-go.

The lights were off. No doubt Doc Fitz had gone home with Beau by now. Libby was on night duty. For the moment, Asher had everything he wanted. He was on his good side, with Marlowe's warm relaxed body against his, which wasn't entirely comfortable. But doable.

She'd fallen asleep after her breakdown. Poor thing was exhausted and still healing, too. They were a matching pair of cripples. Not by their current injuries, though. Her, by her parents. Him, by the tragedy in Somalia. The land of treacherous, thieving warlords and people so poor, their children went hungry almost every night. Oddly, Somalia didn't sound much different from some parts of America.

"Love you," Marlowe murmured, her voice barely a hoarse whisper.

Asher stilled. Did he hear right? Had she said what he thought she said? Pressing his nose into the side of her head, he said, "I told you once when you were asleep. So I'm telling you now, even though you're sleeping again. This isn't the last time you'll hear me say it." He kissed her temple. "I. Love. You."

He blinked to keep from drowning her with his tears. "I loved you first, and I'll love you last," he croaked like a lovesick frog. "You're mine, Marlowe, and you'll never—ever—live another day without me in it. Promise."

Unexpectedly, her hand came up in the dark and she ran her fingertips over his cheek. "I love you back," she murmured thickly.

Great. Now he woke her and made her sad.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere without you, Asher. You, Walter, and Darling. I can't…" Her voice cracked. "I don't want to be alone again. I'm not that strong. It was hard being in Afghanistan. I know I make it sound easy, but…" She dissolved into tears.

He buried his face in her neck. "Jesus," was all he could manage. Marlowe was the strongest person he knew, and it had nothing to do with physique. It was inner strength. Grit. And, okay, a mile-wide streak of nasty disposition. But that nasty streak had helped her stand up to the Taliban. All by herself. She'd single-handedly, albeit deceitfully, taken on a monumental task that had nearly gotten her killed. A task very few others were capable of completing or would have considered. Yet she'd attacked each and every assignment Alex sent like a pit bull, and she'd completed them—alone.

She didn't think she was strong? Bullshit. When it came to courage, Marlowe put many highly-trained military members he'd worked with over the years—men and women—to shame. She didn't whine or make excuses. She sure as hell didn't duck responsibility. She just sucked up the challenges and did the impossible.

Asher ran his free hand over her prickly head. The good Lord made it extra-hard for a reason. That head and the brain in it saved lives, and now she was saving his. Just by being there, in of all places, his hospital bed. Her short hair teased his palm. It was coming in black and it was beautiful. He didn't care if it grew in purple. He fell in love with her heart, not her hair.

Marlowe snuggled her nose under his chin. "Beau's childhood was like mine. I think I like him."

"His might've been worse, honey. Bass Jennings, the man who stole him from his parents, beat the shit out of him on a daily basis. The asshat gave him to his common-law addict wife, who openly claimed Beau was hers, a little Mexican boy, the son of a couple pasty-white losers."

Asher shook his head at the stupidity of those two. "One day she came home with a sickly newborn, Beau's baby sister, and he fell in love for the first time in his life. Unfortunately, AJ died from an overdose at her mother's hand. Beau figures Fidget got confused and put her heroin in AJ's baby bottle instead of formula. To protect Fidget, Jennings told the police Beau did it, that he killed AJ. Beau was only seven, Marlowe. He was just a little beat-up kid, trapped in a living hell. Bass Jennings beat the shit out of him and threw him into the street. The son of a bitch sicced the local gangs on the poor kid. How Beau survived in Las Vegas is beyond me."

"Oh, my gosh," Marlowe whispered. "Now I feel horrible for wanting to kick him. That poor little boy."

"Yeah, but he's a fighter. Eventually, he found someone who mentored him. He joined the Army and became a Ranger. Alex located his parents in Mexico a while back. They live with him and McKenna now, who you know as Doc Fitz. They have two kids, and Beau works IT for Mother. He's nothing like the man he was when Alex first hired him. Back then, he was volatile as shit." Just like you are.

"Mother?"

"Her real name's Sasha Kennedy, but everyone calls her Mother or Mom. She's over TEAM Information Technology. I'll introduce you someday. She's a smart lady."

"I'd like that. You're right. Beau's childhood was worse. My dad never hit me, but that's because he wasn't around much. One of Mom's boyfriends did, but I was older and he was drunk. Wasn't hard to knock him on his ass. I stayed away for a while, but when I went home, Mom and he were pretty tight, so…" She let that brief insight trail away.

Asher had to know. "You left? How old were you?"

"Yeah, I left for good that time. I was twelve. What's the saying, old enough to know better, dumb enough to do it again? Not me. Kick me, hit me, or lie to me once, and I'm outta there."

She was breaking Asher's heart. Twelve-year-old little girls on the street weren't any safer than seven-year-old little boys. Jesus, she and Beau had some shitty breaks. "I don't lie. Fools lie. The minute they do, walk away. Liars never change."

With a relaxed sigh, Marlowe ran her fingers through his hair. Asher closed his eyes, thrilled at her touch on his scalp. Pretty much thrilled with her touching him anywhere. If only they were at his place. It wasn't much, but they'd have privacy there, and he was dying to have her all to himself.

The medically imposed restrictions had to end. Tomorrow morning. First thing. But for tonight, Asher gathered his future in his one good arm and shifted to his back. Ahhh. Instant relief.