Chapter 21

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Slate lay awake Saturday morning, simply watching Ashlyn sleep. Yesterday had been a tough day. He’d gone to the base and watched the body cam footage of what had happened a little over a week ago in Afghanistan. He’d definitely fucked up by trying to save the boy, but ironically, his actions had likely saved his life.

If he’d followed his team down the stairs, he likely wouldn’t have made it out of the house before the RPG hit. And he would’ve been closer to the side of the house that collapsed first, buried under far more rubble. As it was, being on the top floor, on the opposite side of the point of contact, had allowed him to escape the worst of the explosion.

It hadn’t been easy to watch his teammates frantically digging through the rubble, trying to find him, or to see them carrying his unconscious body through the hostile streets of the city as they retreated.

Slate had always known Mustang, Midas, Aleck, Pid, and Jag had his back, but seeing it firsthand, hearing the stress in their voices, and their absolute confidence in getting him back to the base safe and sound, made an already tight bond even tighter.

He had a different take on missions now. Yes, the bad guys still needed to be taken out, innocent civilians still needed to be rescued, captured comrades in arms needed to be liberated…but now, for the first time in his career, Slate was a little less willing to die in order to do any of those things. He’d still give his all to every mission, he still loved his country, but he now loved something, someone, even more.

Ashlyn lay curled against him, her breathing slow and deep. The love he felt for the woman seemed all consuming. How he hadn’t admitted it earlier, Slate had no idea. It was ridiculous that he hadn’t recognized his feelings for what they were, especially since he’d never felt like this before.

It had taken him getting hurt, and his jealousy, to finally make them both open their eyes and see what was right in front of them. Having Ashlyn come through the door last evening had been exactly what he’d needed to put the stress of the day behind him. He wanted them to come home to each other every single day.

He hadn’t been thrilled that James had given her twenty thousand bucks to take care of for him, but he was relieved the old man didn’t have that much cash in his house anymore. Today, despite James’s opinion on banks, he and Ashlyn would deposit the money into an account for safekeeping. He’d talked her into opening a separate account for James’s money, so there wouldn’t be any conflict of interest or questions about it.

Afterward, they had no plans other than to enjoy each other’s company. Slate was feeling surprisingly good after the slight swelling in his brain had subsided, and he’d be going back to work next week. But before that, he and Ashlyn had two full days to themselves.

It was hard to remember the time when he and Ash had done nothing but snipe at each other. But Slate thought of those days fondly. She stood up for herself, stood up to him, and stood up for what she believed in, and he loved that about her…just as much as it drove him crazy.

She’d give away the clothes on her back if it meant helping someone else. She’d keep an old man’s life savings safe if it made him feel more comfortable. She would always bend over backward to help others…which meant Slate had to make sure he always had her back. That helping someone else didn’t mean she put herself in a vulnerable position. Slate was more than willing to let her do her thing, but he’d pull her back when the situation warranted it.

He felt guilty for the flash of relief that went through him at the knowledge she didn’t have any vindicative ex-boyfriends. She wasn’t wanted by the mob. They didn’t have to worry about anyone wanting to hurt her because of something she’d done in the past. Slate didn’t think she had an enemy in the world, which was a relief. He couldn’t bear to think about her being in any of the situations her friends had been through.

Their life together would be as boring as he could make it, and they’d both be perfectly happy.

Ashlyn stirred against him, and Slate smiled as she slowly came awake. Her eyes opened a crack, and she looked from him, to the clock on the table behind him, then back to him. “It’s early. You sleep okay?”

“It’s not that early, and yeah, slept like a rock with you in my arms.”

She smiled sleepily. “Me too.”

Slate couldn’t help but snort. She slept like a rock every night. She was one of those lucky people who fell asleep fast and stayed that way. He loved that for her.

“Okay, I sleep like a rock every night,” she said, correctly reading his snort. “But I slept even better because you’re with me.”

Slate ran a finger over her nose and kissed her gently.

“Do we have plans today?”

“Other than going to the bank, no,” Slate said.

“And they don’t open until like, ten on a Saturday, right?” she asked.

“I think that’s right.”

One of her hands flattened on his belly and slowly inched downward. “So we have time to be lazy this morning.”

“Lazy?” he asked with a smile. “Oh no, no laziness for you. I did all the work last night.”

Her hand stilled and she frowned up at him. “No, you didn’t. I distinctly remember being on top and being in charge.”

Slate burst out laughing. “I think your memory is faulty, babe,” Slate told her. “You started out being in charge, but after that first orgasm, you couldn’t do anything but lie there, lost in a pleasure stupor, and I had to take over. You might’ve been on top, but it was me lifting your body up and down on my cock as I fucked you.”

Instead of getting mad, Ashlyn merely grinned. “Yeah, okay, you might have a point,” she said as her hand slipped into his boxers and she began stroking his morning woody into a full-fledged erection. “So this morning, you can be lazy and I’ll for sure do all the work.” She shifted, getting up on her knees and scooting down until she was between his legs. She pulled his boxers off, then bent above his very awake cock.

She smiled at him as she licked from base to tip.

If this was her idea of him being lazy, he was a damn lucky man. He shoved his hand into her hair as she lowered her head. Groaning, Slate refused to close his eyes as his woman went down on him. He loved her so damn much. He had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky.

* * *

Ashlyn smiled at Slate a couple hours later. Being lazy with Slate was awesome. She had a feeling she’d burned more calories in an hour that morning than she would the rest of the entire day. It wasn’t often Slate could stay in bed with nowhere to be, so they’d milked it for all it was worth. Next week, he’d be up at the ass-crack of dawn, working out with his team once more, so Ashlyn had to enjoy every second of their lovemaking and cuddling.

They’d just enjoyed a late breakfast, and were washing dishes together before heading out to the bank when Slate’s phone rang.

He frowned, dried his hands, and went to the counter to pick it up.

“Slate here,” he answered. “Yes, Sir. No, it’s okay, I can talk. Give me a second though? Thanks.”

He put the phone against his chest and turned to her. “It’s Commander Huttner. He has some questions about my statement of what happened last week.”

“It’s okay,” Ashlyn said without hesitation. “Why don’t I go to the bank now? I’ll pick up lunch on the way home and we can spend the rest of the day hanging out.”

Slate frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you driving around with all that money.”

Ashlyn rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine, Slate. I’m going to go straight to the bank, open an account, and that’ll be that. I won’t advertise the fact that I’m carrying a shit ton of money. No one’s gonna know.”

He only frowned harder.

“Seriously, talk to your commander. I’ll probably be back before you’re done. I’ll even stop and get Hawaiian for your lunch,” she cajoled.

“You being able to sweet-talk me doesn’t bode well for this relationship,” he semi-growled.

Ashlyn giggled. “Actually, I think it says great things for this relationship.” She leaned in and kissed him briefly. “Love you,” she said softly.

“And I love you,” he said, apparently not caring that his commander might be able to overhear. “Be careful—and don’t get Hawaiian. You don’t like it, so that means you’d have to make two stops to get yourself something too.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she said.

“Babe. I have two more days off, and I want to spend as much of that time with you as possible. Bank, lunch, then get your ass back here so we can relax.”

He was being bossy again, but since he was also being sweet about wanting to spend time with her, she couldn’t complain. “Okay, Slate.”

“Okay.”

Ashlyn felt his eyes on her as he brought his phone back up to his ear. “I’m back, Sir.”

He kept watching her as she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops and grabbed her purse, sunglasses, and the two manila envelopes they’d put James’s money into after they’d counted it and bundled it into neat stacks. She took a moment to admire Slate while he was distracted speaking to his boss.

He had on a pair of jeans, which molded to his muscular thighs. He was wearing a Helena’s Bakery T-shirt, his hair mussed, and his bare feet peeking out beneath the hem of his pants. All in all, her man was crazy hot. It didn’t matter if he was in his uniform, a pair of jeans like today, gray sweats, or butt-ass naked, he was a fine specimen of a man.

“Be back soon!” she mouthed as she headed for the door.

“Be safe,” Slate mouthed back.

Nodding, Ashlyn opened the door and headed out to her car.

As she drove to the bank, she glanced at the manila envelopes. James had been right, he had twenty thousand, two hundred dollars hidden around his house. It wasn’t a ton of money for someone his age, but he seemed content with his lifestyle.

The visit to the bank went smoothly. She opened a new account, making a mental note to add James’s name to it at some point. The clerk behind the counter didn’t seem fazed about depositing over two hundred one-hundred dollar bills. She did check a few to make sure they weren’t counterfeit, but once assured they were real, she quickly completed the transaction and handed over a receipt.

Feeling much better now that the money was safe, Ashlyn left the bank, relieved to no longer be carrying around that much cash.

As she got into her car, she thought about her promise to call and check on James and figured now was as good a time as any. She had a feeling she and Slate would be preoccupied later, and she wanted to make sure she didn’t forget to check on her friend.

She dialed James’s number and waited for him to answer. He didn’t. The phone rang five times and went to voice mail. Ashlyn didn’t bother leaving a message. James had admitted once that he had no idea how to access the message system on his landline and wasn’t able to check them anyway.

She called back, only for the phone to go unanswered once more. A little worried now, Ashlyn called again, and then one more time. The phone only rang and rang.

She frowned, visions of all sorts of horrible things flew through her brain. James lying on the floor after having fallen, unable to get up. James becoming sick and unable to get out of bed. Living alone, and being so frail, there were so many things that could happen.

Ashlyn made the split-second decision to pop by his house just to check on him.

She quickly clicked on Slate’s name and typed out a text.

Ashlyn: Money’s deposited. Since you’re probably still on the phone, I’m gonna stop by James’s house real quick. He was kind of off yesterday, and I want to make sure he’s good. I’ll still get lunch on my way home. Love you.

She was probably overthinking the situation. James was likely sitting outside, enjoying the morning, and hadn’t heard his phone ring. She’d swing by, they’d laugh at her paranoia, then she’d get lunch and head back to Slate’s house.

If something was wrong, she’d get help for James, then call Slate. There was no use worrying him yet over probably nothing.

Her mind made up, and not surprised Slate hadn’t immediately responded to her text, Ashlyn started her car and headed for James’s house.

She got there in about ten minutes, the traffic being lighter since it was a Saturday. There were no cars parked at his house, which wasn’t a surprise. Grabbing her phone, Ashlyn slipped out of her RAV4 and headed up to his front door. She knocked, but wasn’t surprised when James didn’t answer. She tried the knob. It was locked.

Biting her lip, Ashlyn took a deep breath and headed around to the side of the house. She’d see if James was in the backyard, scold him for scaring her, they’d share a laugh, and she’d head out.

But before she could get to the backyard, the kitchen door caught her attention. It was at the side of the house, and while the screen door was shut, the inner door was not. It was unusual enough to stop Ashlyn in her tracks.

James never used this door, partly because there were two steps that led down to a sidewalk that definitely needed some repair work. Since he wasn’t quite steady on his feet, he always preferred to enter and exit through his front door, where there weren’t any stairs and the sidewalk wasn’t cracked and uneven.

So why was the kitchen door open? Had he gotten hurt and tried to go outside to get some help, and hadn’t made it? Her heart beating a million miles an hour, Ashlyn didn’t hesitate to go up the two steps and open the screen door.

When she stepped inside James’s kitchen, she stared around in disbelief at the mess that greeted her.

It looked like every cabinet had been opened and emptied. There were containers and dishes everywhere. Even the pantry had been ransacked. There was flour and sugar all over the floor, their containers lying on their sides on top of the mess.

“James?” she called out, then mentally smacked her head in exasperation. It was stupid to call attention to herself when it was obvious the house had been burglarized—and she had no idea if the perpetrator was still in the house or not. She needed to call the police. But she couldn’t leave without checking on James first.

She stepped over the worst of the mess and looked into the living room.

To her surprise, it wasn’t James who came out of one of the bedrooms.

It was Aiden.

Their eyes met…and Ashlyn knew instinctively that she’d messed up big time. As soon as she saw the mess in the kitchen, she should’ve backed out of the house and called the police. It was too late now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.

“What are you doing here?” Ashlyn countered, suddenly pissed. She knew she should be scared, and she was, but her anger overcame everything else at the moment. “James told me he fired you.”

“He did. I came by to apologize, and to ask him to reconsider,” Aiden said.

Ashlyn didn’t believe a word he was saying. The living area was in as much disarray as the kitchen. It even looked as if the cushions had been sliced open with a knife! The stuffing was scattered all over the floor.

It hit her then—Aiden was looking for James’s money. The cash he’d given to her just the day before for safekeeping. The older man had obviously known what he was doing by entrusting his life savings to her. Aiden wasn’t going to find the cash he was so obviously searching for.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then both jumped when the phone in Ashlyn’s hand rang.

“Fuck!” Aiden stalked toward her surprisingly fast. He grabbed her arm in an iron-tight grip and squeezed. Hard. “Don’t answer that.”

Looking down, Ashlyn saw Slate’s name on the screen. “It’s my boyfriend. If I don’t answer it, he’s going to know something’s wrong. I always answer his calls.”

“No,” Aiden growled as he reached for her other hand.

Ashlyn held on to her phone with a death grip. She knew it was her link to the outside world. To help. She had no idea where James was, or what Aiden had done to him, but she had a feeling it was nothing good.

And now that she was face-to-face with Aiden, she suspected he was on something. His pupils were tiny in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed. Even as he tried to get her phone, he kept looking around nervously, as if expecting someone else to appear out of nowhere. Not exactly an idle threat, since she’d done just that.

“Give me your goddamn phone!” Aiden shouted, prying it out of her hand. He pulled her into the living room and flung her down onto James’s favorite chair. The cushion was missing, but Ashlyn barely noticed as she kept her eyes locked on Aiden.

He glared down at the phone. “What’s your password?”

Ashlyn pressed her lips together. She wasn’t giving this asshole the password to her phone.

Aiden took two steps forward, leaned over her, and hissed, “Give me the password or I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Three, two, one, four, five, six,” she said immediately. It hit her at that moment just how precarious her situation was. Aiden was desperate and backed into a corner. He’d done something to James, was in the process of robbing him, and now she was a witness. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

Aiden unlocked her phone and began to type.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Answering your fucking boyfriend,” he spat out.

Ashlyn thought about the tracking app for the first time. Slate would know where she was if he looked at it. But she’d already told him where she was going in her earlier text. So he’d have no reason to think anything was wrong if he saw her location.

Shit. She was in big trouble—and she had no idea what to do about it.

“Where’s James?” she asked quietly.

“He’s fine.”

“Where is he?” she asked again.

“He’s sleeping,” Aiden said as he scowled at her phone once more, then threw it onto one of the shelves of a bookcase near Ashlyn. She stared at it for a moment. If Aiden got distracted, and she moved fast enough, she could grab it and dial 9-1-1. Or call Slate.

“Don’t even think about it,” Aiden said. “You won’t make it. I would’ve broken the damn thing but I need it to work.”

Ashlyn couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

“Because I need a patsy,” Aiden said. He went to a table near the front door and grabbed something. He walked back toward her, spinning the object in his hand…and if Ashlyn had thought she was scared before, now she was terrified.

The object in his hand was a gun. Aiden having it made an already bad situation downright deadly.

“You’re my patsy,” he repeated, when Ashlyn didn’t respond to his last statement. “Your phone records will show that you were here. Neighbors will have seen your car. You drugged James, ransacked his place, then left. The cops’ll be all over your ass…and I won’t even be a thought in their head.”

“Aiden, you don’t—” she started, but he laughed, cutting off her words.

“I do have to do this,” he told her. “You don’t get it! But it doesn’t matter. Once I find his stash, we’ll be on our way. I’ll take care of you and be set for a good long while.”

Ashlyn didn’t even want to think about what “take care of you” might entail. She also wasn’t going to say a damn word about his search for James’s money being futile. The longer he searched, and the longer they were there, the better the chance Slate would figure out something was wrong and come looking for her.

Ashlyn had no doubt whatsoever that her overly protective boyfriend would eventually come. She had no idea what Aiden had said in the text he’d sent, but Slate was smart. He’d figure out it wasn’t her and come to check on her. She knew that as well as she knew her name. She just hoped she’d still be there when he showed up.

“What? No comment?” Aiden sneered.

Ashlyn simply shook her head.

“Good. I’m sick of hearing you talk anyway. Sit your ass there and be good,” Aiden ordered, pointing the gun at her head.

Ashlyn froze. She’d never looked down the barrel of a gun before and wasn’t enjoying the experience. She gripped the arms of James’s chair tightly and did her best to stay calm. Slate would come, she just had to be smart until he showed up.

Aiden stared at her for a second over the sights of the pistol, then laughed. He shoved the gun in the front waistband of his jeans and said, “Sit. Stay. Good dog.” Then he smirked and resumed his search for James’s money. Money he’d never find.