Beneath the Surface (16 page)

Quinn closed her eyes and braced for impact, unable to stop the scream that tore from her lungs as they barreled toward the cliff. At the last second, the wheel was wrenched from her hands and the truck careened left. She was propelled right, her shoulder slamming hard into Asher. Gravel pelted the truck and she waited for that weightless feeling of falling to overtake her.

We’re going to die . . .

The knowledge was such a bone-deep truth, the fear a suffocating reality, and in that moment where time seemed to stop, regret overwhelmed her. Asher was going to die and it was her fault—just like Emily. How many lives would she have to stand before God and account for? It was selfish of her to come here, to put him at risk like this. A stupid, selfish mistake . . .

The truck veered hard to the left, tires screeching . . . She felt like a bobblehead, slamming from side to side. Her temple connected with the window as the truck slammed into rock before ricocheting right. Glass exploded, pain blasted behind her eyes, and a wave of dizziness washed over her, pulling her under. The truck lurched forward and the screeching metal was the last thing she heard before everything went black.

CHAPTER

18

Q
uinn! Quinn! Baby, open your eyes.”

She could barely hear the muffled demand over the ringing in her ears. Her world was tilting to the right and her ribs hurt where the center console pressed into them. Warm hands cradled her face and lifted her head. Pain spiked into her brain with the tempo of her beating heart. Her lids were heavy, refusing to obey her command to open.

The brush of a calloused thumb swept over her cheek, followed by a nasty curse. Then the demands started in again. This time his voice was sharper, his worry an audible bark. “Goddammit, Quinn, open your eyes!”

Struggling to climb out of the haze, she was tempted to slip back into unconsciousness. There it didn’t hurt, there her stomach didn’t roll with nausea, and there it didn’t feel like her head was going to explode. She tried to force her lids apart, and moaned with the failed effort. She’d try again later, after she rested some more and took a break from the pain.

The twanging sound of a snapping cable and the groan of scraping metal accompanied the hard jerk that ripped her back into consciousness. She startled awake, her eyes coming open but still not focused.

“Quinn! Look at me!”

She blinked a couple of times before her vision began to clear. Slowly, her senses came back online, orienting her to time, place, and situation. Oh God, they’d crashed! Asher was in her face, his brows drawn tight with worry as his gaze roved over her.

“Fuck . . .” His thumb swept over the knot at her temple, and she winced at the spike of pain. “Quinn, listen to me. You need to climb out of the truck.”

He reached over and she felt her seat belt let loose. Gravity dumped her into Asher’s arms and he caught her before she could fall into his seat. The truck was nearly tipped onto the passenger side. The only way out was through the shattered driver’s window. The groan of metal sounded outside and the truck slipped again, the tires skidding against gravel.

Her breath caught in her throat, a startled gasp as the precariousness of their situation settled on her. They weren’t at the bottom of this mountain, she realized. They were at the top, and the truck was about to go over the edge. She had no idea how they were still up here, but she had a feeling it had something to do with the snapping twang of those wires outside.

“Quinn, we need to go.” Asher’s tone was firm and commanding—determined—and, God bless him, calm, because only one of them was allowed to lose their shit and that person was going to be her.

“We’re going to fall off this mountain . . .” She muttered the thought out loud with absolute certainty.

“No, we’re not. You’re going to very carefully climb out of that window and slide down to the ground.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to help you get out.”

“What if the truck slips and falls?”

“If we don’t get out, it’s going to. Now let’s go.”

His tone told her conversation time was over. He grabbed her waist and helped support her as she lifted her legs, being careful not to hit her knee on the steering wheel. She fought against the dizziness making the cab swim as she slowly climbed up. Asher changed his grip, bracing his hands on her bottom and boosting her up. He held her suspended in the air as she slid one leg out of the broken window and then the other. She dipped her head to clear the top of the opening and then hesitated before sliding out, glancing back at him. Tears filled her eyes and panic threatened to choke her. She had no idea what was keeping this truck from going over the edge, but she was terrified that when she dropped out, she was going to make it fall and Asher was going to be stuck inside.

“I don’t want to do it,” she cried, her voice breaking. “It’s going to fall . . .”

Her gaze locked with his and she saw the horrible truth reflecting in his eyes. He knew it would. He’d known all along that her climbing out was going to push it over the edge. And still he’d made her get out. He was sacrificing his life for hers and she didn’t want him to do it.

“Jump down, Quinn.” His voice was calm—too calm.

Please, God, no!
This man was going to die for her! The acceptance of his fate broke her heart. She saw no fear, no regret . . .

“I choose you, Quinn.”

A sob tore from her throat as he spoke her words back to her. The same confession that left her lips only a short while ago would be the last she’d hear from his. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t save herself at his expense.

“Give me your hand.” She braced one hand on the doorframe and reached back inside for him with the other.

“Dammit, Quinn, get the hell out of this truck!”

“Not without you. We’re going out together or not at all.”

He hesitated a moment, seeming shocked that she’d refuse to leave him. Something softened in his eyes—respect, admiration, affection?

“You can’t even do this one thing without a fight, can you? Goddammit, I think I could have fallen in love with you . . .”

His confession made her freeze. Her heart stuttered as her mind registered his words. He reached for her, but instead of grabbing her hand, he shoved her out the window. Quinn screamed as she fell out, her teeth jarring as she hit the ground—hard. Sharp pain shot through her knees and back at the impact, gravel grinding into her palms as her hands shot out to catch her. The shifting weight inside the truck made the cable snap, and the
twang
of whipping metal cord snapped through the air. The pained groan of metal scraping against metal gave way to the cascade of falling rock as the truck began to slide over the edge.

“Asher!”

The cable gave way and the truck began to slide over the edge. Asher’s precarious world tilted and a jarring boom filled the cab as the metal cable whipped against the door. Adrenaline flooded his veins, and his heart hammered inside his chest as his body fought to admit what his mind already knew—he wasn’t making it out of this alive. But still he wasn’t going down without a fight. Acting on pure instinct, he dove for the window. The truck dropped down, then caught on the edge of something as it went over, precariously balancing for a few precious seconds, giving him just enough time to clear the opening and leap out before the truck tumbled down the side of the mountain. Quinn’s gut-wrenching scream was followed by the crunch of metal and shattering glass that exploded into the night.

“Asher!”

Her plea gutted him, her grief a palpable force that thrust into his chest and took hold of his heart, squeezing until he swore it’d stop beating. She thought he was dead. And if it wasn’t for this ledge of rock, he would be. Fuck, this was the second time in his life he’d faced certain death, and the second time he’d survived it. How many more times would he escape its clutches?

“Nooo!”

Her sobs echoed above him, a heartbreaking wail. He would have called for her but he couldn’t breathe. The pain in his chest was so crushing, the hammering of his heart so violent, he felt like he was having a fucking heart attack.

Asher drew a slow, deep breath, pulling the crisp night air into his lungs, trying to calm his rioting pulse. “Quinn . . .” He called her name, his voice hoarse from the swell of emotion clogging his throat. God help him, he’d almost lost her. She must not have heard him over her own sobbing. He called for her again—louder. The crying stopped. Gravel crunched beneath running footsteps that skidded to a stop, sending little pieces of gravel raining down on him.

“Asher?” she cried, her voice shrill with hope.

“I’m down here, Quinn—on the ledge.” Remembering his cell, he grabbed it from his pocket and turned on the flashlight. He held it up and the invisible band around his chest tightened. Sweet Jesus, there wasn’t a more beautiful sight in the world than this woman.

“Asher! I thought—” her voice broke.

“I’m all right,” he reassured her. Thankfully, he was only a few feet down. The rock wall was jagged enough he should be able to crawl back up it. He tipped the light down to get a better view of his surroundings and his stomach dropped. Less than two inches separated him from death. He’d come that close to missing the ledge when he’d leapt out that window. He held the light farther over the edge, looking for his truck, but the beam couldn’t cast that far down. Damn, that would’ve been one hell of a rough way to go.

“I’m going to toss my phone up to you. I need you to hold the light against the rock so I can see where to climb.”

She nodded and he sent the cell into the air, praying to God she was a good catch.

“Got it.”

She angled the light against the rock face, and he scoured the stone for the best route. Finding his path, he climbed back up and hoisted himself over the ledge. The moment he was back on his feet, Quinn crashed into him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tight. But her welcoming embrace was short-lived because she pulled back and promptly smacked him in the chest.

“I can’t believe you did that!” She was still holding his phone, lighting the area between them. He could see the fresh tears streaming down her face. “You knew that truck was going to fall when you shoved me out!” She raised her hand to hit him again and he caught her wrist, yanking her back into his arms. This time he hugged her tight, and he had no intention of letting her go.

“Shhh . . .” he whispered against the top of her head when she broke down again.

“You almost died . . .” she sobbed against his chest.

“I’m right here, it’s all right. We’re going to be fine . . .” he soothed, squeezing tighter still and pressing a kiss into her silky hair. He thought he’d never smell the scent of wildflowers again, or hold her in his arms—feel her soft little body pressed against his.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins at how narrowly he’d escaped death, and his emotions were riding high. That had to be the fullness in his chest right now, making his heart ache, because God help him if he’d fallen for this woman.

CHAPTER

19

Q
uinn couldn’t stop shaking. Even as the hot water beat down on her flushed skin, the steam billowing into a cumulous cloud around her, she couldn’t stop the tremors from racking her body. She reached for the soap and the bottle slipped from her hands, crashing onto the floor. Tears blurred her vision anew as she bent to retrieve it. Shit, she was a wreck. No matter how many times she told herself that Asher was all right, she couldn’t get the terror out of her heart at seeing that truck sliding off the cliff.

Guilt consumed her, a suffocating weight that threatened to buckle her knees. Asher had almost died tonight saving her. The resounding reality of his sacrifice shook her to her core, forcing her to face feelings she’d been denying. In one selfless act, Asher had managed to lay siege to her walls and obliterate her defenses.

The urge to go to him now, the need to see him alive and safe, tugged at her heart. But she didn’t think he was alone and didn’t want to interrupt. He’d called his dad to come pick them up, and instead of dropping them off, he’d stayed to talk to Asher. She’d wanted to give them some privacy and had hoped a shower would help calm her nerves, but it wasn’t working.

She thought she heard pounding on the door but couldn’t be sure if it was that or the hammering of her heartbeat in her ears. Quinn turned off the water to listen. The knock came again.

“Quinn? Are you all right? I heard something bang up here. Are you hurt?”

Was she hurt? If he only knew . . . Just the sound of his voice made her chest ache. She’d tried so hard to protect her heart, but looking a man in the eyes right before he gave his life for yours . . . there was no coming back from that. In that moment, her heart had become irrevocably lost to Asher Tate and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

“I . . . I’m fine,” she called, glad when her voice didn’t betray her turbulent emotions. “I just dropped a bottle. I’ll be out in a minute.”

There was a long pause. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to come in and see for himself that she was all right. Her pulse quickened at the thought. A twinge of disappointment cramped in her chest when he said through the door, “Just be careful. You hit your head pretty hard tonight. I want to take a look at it before you go to bed.”

Had his father left? Were they alone? Before she could tell him he could stay, his steps echoed on the wooden floor and the hollow cadence descended the stairs. She opened the shower door and grabbed her towel from the rack. After drying off, she wrapped up her hair, taking care not to hit the bump on her temple. A low-level headache thrummed to the beat of her pulse.

When she opened the bathroom door, a blast of cool air rushed in. Goose bumps prickled her flesh and she hurried to the dresser they now shared. As she stepped into a pair of black lace panties, her gaze strayed to his drawer of T-shirts. Would he mind if she wore one tonight? Her sleepwear was limited and she wanted something warmer. If she was really being honest with herself, she just wanted to feel closer to Asher.

He’d told her the first night she’d come here that she could help herself. Going on the assumption that was a standing offer, Quinn opened the drawer and saw the T-shirt she’d worn the night she’d arrived folded neatly on the pile. Had it really only been just a week ago that she’d come here with nothing more than a desperate plea for help and the clothes on her back? How could so much change this fast? She grabbed a navy blue T-shirt and pulled it on as she headed for the door.

As Quinn passed by, she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall and stopped to make a quick self-assessment. The hemline hung halfway down her thighs. She supposed she looked presentable enough to head downstairs for some ibuprofen and a glass of water. Stepping closer, she inspected the knot on the side of her head. It was bruised and swollen. Tender to the touch, but she’d live.

Quinn made her way downstairs and had just stepped into the living room when she heard Robert’s voice in the kitchen. He was still here. Crap. She might be all right with Asher seeing her half-dressed, but his dad was another story. Quinn turned around to go back upstairs but his father’s question stopped her cold.

“How much trouble is this girl in, Asher?”

There was a long pause, as if he was trying to decide how much he wanted to say. “Enough that my brakes went out and the emergency brake failed.”

Quinn’s heart stuttered at the confirmation of what she feared—that this accident had been no accident at all . . .

“You think someone did this?”

“I wouldn’t know for sure unless I got a look at the brake line. Seeing as how my truck is lying at the bottom of a mountain, I don’t see how that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

Guilt came over her like a crashing wave—crippling, consuming . . . Her hand shot out to steady herself on the railing. Her knees felt weak as her heart hammered inside her chest. If Asher was right, then this really was her fault and Quinn’s killer had found her. It was only a matter of time before he succeeded. They were up against a nameless, faceless enemy. How could they ever hope to survive? The fear she’d felt for herself a week ago had now transferred to Asher. The soul-deep regret she felt for pulling him into this was beyond words. She never should have done it. Maybe it wasn’t too late to undo her mistake. If she left, Asher would be safe . . .

His dad swore a ripe curse. It was the first time she’d heard Robert use foul language. It didn’t suit him. “How serious are you about this girl, Asher?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you in love with her or are you putting your life on the line for a piece of ass?”

“Jesus, dad. Really?”

“Answer my question.” His father’s demand held the authoritative tone of a man who’d raised four willful boys.

“Neither. I’m not sleeping with Quinn.”

“That’s not what I asked you, and that’s not what it looked like in the driveway tonight. Your mother’s practically picking out color patterns and flower arrangements.”

Asher cursed. “You should have told her the truth right away, Dad. Quinn and I—it’s . . . complicated.”

His father chuckled. “Yeah, I hate to break it to you, son, but you’re in love with her.”

“I’m not in love with Quinn,” he denied. “The woman drives me nuts.”

Disappointment pierced her heart. It hurt a lot more than she wanted to admit, especially because she couldn’t say the same about him. Oh shit, this was Spencer all over again. Only with Asher, she feared the fallout would be so much worse. She knew she hadn’t been easy to get along with, and they’d had a rocky start together. But she’d thought after what happened tonight, that just maybe . . .

His father’s humor stung. She failed to see what was so funny. Her heart was breaking and his father was laughing.

“Sounds like love to me. Do you think about her all the time? Do you want to strangle her one minute, and hug her the next? Does she make you want to be a better man?”

Quinn waited in breathless silence for Asher to answer.

“Oh, God . . .”

Asher couldn’t sound more disgusted at the thought. It only made his dad laugh harder.

“I don’t love Quinn,” he said, this time with a lot more adamancy. “I can’t, Pop.”

“Well, that’s a shame, because that girl’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time.”

The scraping sound of a chair sent Quinn scrambling back into the shadows. She took another step toward the loft and silently retreated. Asher said something else to his dad but she couldn’t hear what. It didn’t really matter. She’d heard enough and her course was set. Tomorrow morning she was leaving.

She entered the room and grabbed her brush off the dresser before taking a seat at the foot of his bed. Despite the profound ache of disappointment in her chest, she told herself this was for the best. Especially with the likelihood she’d been found. If she thought there was a chance they could be together, it would only make leaving him all the harder. She’d survived a broken heart before, and she’d do it again—maybe . . . if her assassin didn’t find her first.

Quinn would call Violet in the morning and see if Nikko could meet her somewhere with the package rather than mailing it. She had no plan beyond that and would just have to take it moment by moment, day by day. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay here—not anymore, knowing the danger she was putting Asher in. Maybe she’d just board the Amtrak and see where it took her. It’d gotten her this far in one piece, right? If she kept moving, hopefully she’d stay safe long enough to find the connection she was searching for and finish her story.

She’d just gotten done working through the knots in her hair when Quinn heard a soft knock on the door. Despite herself, her pulse quickened and butterflies began a nervous dance inside her stomach. This was crazy. She wasn’t some hormonal teen with a schoolgirl crush. She was an adult, for chrissake.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opened and Quinn’s breath caught in her lungs at the sight of Asher filling her doorway. He still wore his clothes from earlier. Dirt streaked his T-shirt, and she could see the muscular outline of his pecs through the thin cotton. His jeans hung low on his hips, bearing more evidence of his treacherous climb. A tear in the knee and one on his thigh pulled her gaze below his waist.

“I thought you were going to come down.”

“I was, but I saw your dad was still here and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

He studied her, eyes raking over her head to toe—taking everything in and giving nothing away.

“Nice pajamas . . .”

The lift of his mouth was so subtle she almost missed it.

“I hope it’s all right. I should have asked—”

“I don’t mind, Quinn.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he looked pleased to see her in his clothes. Nervous energy flooded through her, and she could feel her cheeks heating beneath the scrutiny of his stare.

He stood there a moment watching her. As the silence stretched between them, so did the tension. But there was a new element to the vibe charging the air. She wished he weren’t so damn difficult to read.

“You all right?” His husky voice skated over her like a caress.

Her response to him was immediate and uncontrollable, just like when he’d kissed her tonight. It made her feel exposed and vulnerable—and defensive. “Of course I am,” she answered briskly. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m not the one who fell off the side of a mountain.” Her voice was gruff and curt, a last-ditch effort to pull herself together because she did not like the loss of control she was feeling around him. But instead of being put off by her front and leaving, he seemed to see right through her act and took it as an invitation to stay.

They hadn’t spoken much since the accident. Asher had called his dad right away to come pick them up, and this was the first they’d been alone since. But something was different about him—there was intensity in the way he watched her, unguarded concern in his eyes. Dare she hope something more? No, it would only make things harder. Besides, she’d heard the denial from his lips less than twenty minutes ago.

The storm of emotion raging inside his eyes was just the aftereffect of a terrifying experience, and she’d be a fool to read any more into it than that. He’d been so adamant they couldn’t be friends, that he didn’t care about her. But as he stood here in her doorway now, there was an undeniable spark of desire crackling between them that made her nerve endings tingle with anticipation. No, he may not love her, but she wasn’t an idiot either—Asher Tate wanted her.

Exhaling a sigh, he stepped into the bedroom and walked toward her. No man had a right to be this handsome. Her pulse quickened when he knelt between her legs and met her eyes. Emotion clogged in her throat, tears pricking her lids anew at the thought of how close she came to losing him tonight, and how hard it was going to be to let him go tomorrow.

“I’m all right, Quinn . . .”

He took her hand, his grip strong and sure. Heat traveled up her arm as he brushed his thumb over her palm, uncurling her fingers, and placed it against his chest. The strong, steady beat of his heart sent her own hammering in a chaotic tempo.

“See . . .” he said, seeming oblivious that she was melting inside. Her core was like molten lava ready to erupt. “I’m just fine. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Lord, she needed to hear that, even if it wasn’t true. Quinn was losing the battle with her tears. She couldn’t keep looking into those soulful eyes without losing it. In this moment, she was sure she’d never wanted a man more than this one staring up at her right now, and never would again. How had everything gotten so out of control so fast? She was a heartbeat from throwing herself into his arms and taking the pleasure she knew only he could give her.

After what happened tonight, she needed to feel alive, to feel
him
alive—his heart beating against her breasts instead of her palm. But she was scared. She hadn’t been with a man since Spencer, and if Asher’s kiss tonight was any indication of the passion he was capable of, Asher Tate was totally out of her league. And not only that, but what if he turned her down? She wasn’t sure she could handle that kind of rejection—not again.

“How’s your head?” he asked, letting go of her hand and threading his fingers into her hair. He angled her head just enough to get a better look at the bump on her temple.

She winced as his fingers gently probed the area.

“Sorry . . . you have a cut here. I want to make sure you don’t need any stitches.”

His mouth was close to hers. She could feel his breath skate across her lips as he studied her contusion. What would he do if she closed the distance?

Had she once honestly thought Asher was a man ruled by his emotions . . . or his hormones? What a joke. In the week she’d spent with him, he’d exhibited nothing but discipline and strict self-control.
She’d
been the one to kiss him earlier tonight.
She’d
been the one urging him not to stop when he’d tried to cool things down, and
she
was the one tempted to do it again.