Beneath the Surface (20 page)

CHAPTER

24

A
sher, I’m not comfortable doing this.”

“I don’t remember asking you,” he said behind her, his voice a low, husky caress against her ear. “Spread your legs farther apart.”

He wedged his foot between hers and knocked her left foot into position, then her right.

“I’ve never done this before . . .”

“Are you telling me I’m your first?” he chuckled. His chest was pressed against her back and the vibration rolled right through her. “Because that’s fucking hot . . .”

His body was like warm steel pressed up behind her and she could feel exactly how turned on he was. How he could be hard at a time like this, she would never know—maybe it was a guy thing. His erection ground against her ass and Quinn’s aim dropped. She couldn’t concentrate with him standing this close to her—touching her—though aside from his very prominent erection, his touch was strictly platonic.

“Arms up,” Asher told her, placing a hand beneath her elbow and inching it back into position. “Straighten out your shoulders, tense those elbows, and lock your wrists or you’re not going to hit shit.”

“I don’t know . . .” she hedged, wondering how in God’s name she’d ever let Asher convince her to do this.

“You’ll be fine. I was taught how to shoot by one of the best snipers in the Marine Corps. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

“You might, but I have no idea what I’m doing. What if I shoot you?”

He laughed. It was pure sex to her ears . . .

“That would be pretty hard, considering I’m standing right behind you. I tell you what, how about we do the first one together?”

Asher pressed in closer, molding every inch of his body against her back. His spicy, masculine scent enveloped her along with his arms, his hands overlapping hers on the butt of the gun. He lowered his head over her shoulder to see the target from her view and readjusted her aim, a little higher and to the left. “Now, I’m not going to touch the trigger. That’s all you. When you’re ready, squeeze it—slow and easy. Don’t pull it or jerk it, you’ll throw off your aim. Remember, it’s going to recoil and it’s going to be loud, but I want you to know what it sounds like. Otherwise, if you don’t know what to expect the noise can be disorienting.

“All right . . .”

He turned his face into her neck and drew in a slow, deep inhale.

Her nerve endings began to tingle. “Asher?”

“Um-hmm . . .”

His low, throaty response sent a rush of desire flooding through her. “You’re distracting me,” she scolded, tipping her head a little farther to the side and inviting his kiss. She knew she shouldn’t be encouraging this, but he felt so incredible, it was hard to resist.

“You just smell so fucking good. What is that?”

“Lavender,” she laughed. “But I think we’re getting off topic here.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and readjusted their aim, one last time. “Sorry. As I was saying, everyone has an NRP, a natural respiratory pause. That’s when you want to take the shot.”

“Okay.”

“Now take a few deep breaths to relax, clear your thoughts, and focus on aiming; then slowly exhale. When your lungs are almost empty, pause your breathing and squeeze the trigger.”

Easier said than done. Especially with the thoughts running through her head right now. “Okay.” She tried to focus and squeezed her nondominant eye closed.

“When you’re ready . . .”

She lined up the back two sights with the front one and pointed the barrel at the target twenty yards away. She felt more confident with Asher helping her, and did as he instructed. Breathe in, breathe out . . . breathe in, breathe out . . . breathe in, breathe out . . . pause. She squeezed the trigger.

Boom!

The gun went off, kicking back in her hands. The concussive blast of power that flowed through her was amazing. She’d never touched a gun before today and she certainly never expected to enjoy it. But after feeling so much fear these last few weeks, the helplessness and vulnerability that came with the inability to protect herself, this was . . . an unexpectedly empowering experience.

The recoil wasn’t as bad as she’d been expecting. Asher had chosen his smallest-caliber gun with the slimmest grip. It was still a little large for her hand, but he’d said it would work all right. The blast was deafening, though. The only thing she could hear was a high-pitched ring that took a few moments to fade.

“I did it!”

Asher took the gun and was holstering it behind his back as she turned to face him. “I hit the target!” She beamed, throwing her arms around his neck for a celebratory hug. “It wasn’t a bull’s-eye, but at least I didn’t completely miss it.”

His arm slipped around her waist and he chuckled at her excitement. Perhaps he thought she was going a bit overboard, but he indulged her anyway. He couldn’t possibly understand what doing this meant to her. Asher was giving Quinn her power back. He was teaching her to protect and defend herself. It was a gift she hadn’t realized she needed, or wanted, until the moment she’d squeezed that trigger. But then again, maybe he understood her better than she gave him credit for, because the look of pride reflecting in his gorgeous eyes was enough to stop her heart.

“See, it wasn’t as bad as you thought, was it?”

“It was scary, but it was also really fun.”

“I knew you’d like it. With a little practice, I’ll turn you into a sniper in no time.”

She nudged him with her elbow and laughed. “Now you’re teasing me.”

He gave her a playful wink. “Stick with me and I’ll have you doing all kinds of stuff you never thought you’d enjoy.”

She busted out laughing at his assured and totally inappropriate remark. “Oh, you think so, do you?” In the days they’d spent together, Quinn hadn’t been given much opportunity to glimpse Asher’s wicked sense of humor. But today, something about him was different. He was more at ease with her, sweeter . . . attentive. Maybe deep down a part of him was still worried she’d try to leave and he was keeping a closer eye on her. Or could it be possible that he’d been telling her the truth and last night had meant something more to him than she’d wanted to believe? Dare she open her heart up enough to hope? She was having a hard enough time as it was sorting out her own emotions without second-guessing his. She needed to take it slow. Time would tell what this was budding between them.

“Yep,” he said with the arrogant confidence she’d come to secretly adore. “After lunch we’ll start your riding lessons.”

Wait.
“My what?”

“Horseback riding lessons.”

That was
not
the kind of bareback she’d been imagining them doing.

“It’s the only way to get to my cabin.”

“Can’t I just ride with you?” She’d never been on a horse in her life and she wasn’t sure she wanted to learn by climbing the side of a mountain on one.

“The hills are too steep in places and both our weight could throw the horse’s balance off. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you the basics and Jack will do the rest. Let’s take it one step at a time and focus on getting you proficient with a handgun first. We’ll worry about keeping you in the saddle later. I’ve got some earplugs for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package.

“Thanks.” She took them and opened the wrapper. “I’m glad we’re doing it again. Practice makes perfect, right?” She balled up the soft foam and stuffed it into one ear.

He looked so incredibly gorgeous standing there smiling down at her, she nearly caved to the temptation to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. “Sweetheart, we can keep doing it as long as you want to.”

Her breath stalled in her lungs at the sexy rasp in his voice. Did he mean the shooting or was he giving her an open-ended invitation? Because there were a lot of things she wanted to do with Asher Tate.

Quinn was a natural markswoman. After two hours under his tutelage, she was shooting better than some of the guys who’d spent weeks in the corps. She was averaging a kill-shot accuracy of eight-five percent. Not bad, not bad at all . . .

She needed to learn how to protect herself. As much as he wanted to, it was unrealistic of him to think he could be with her every second of every day. With the likelihood that she’d been found, he wasn’t taking any chances with her life. He hoped he was wrong and his brakes had just failed, but in his gut he knew the truth.

When he’d first suggested she learn to shoot, he’d been worried at her hesitancy. He knew a measure of comfort would come over time, but time was a luxury he didn’t have right now. Quinn needed to know her way around a gun—like, yesterday. Thank God she was a remarkably apt pupil. He cursed himself for not putting one in her hands sooner, but looking back wasn’t going to help them now. What he needed to focus on was teaching her to defend herself—that, and getting her the hell out of here.

Quinn fired the last round and the slide stayed open. She pulled out an earplug and turned to look at him. A big grin that almost brought him to his knees graced her beautiful face, and holy hell, the things he’d love to do to her from there. Her brow was raised, requesting his approval.

“Nice shooting . . .” He nodded toward the clustering near the center of the target. He’d had her practicing at a variety of distances, but it was more likely that if she needed this gun, she’d be firing it at close range.

Watching Quinn confidently handle his gun was hot as hell, and he’d spent the last couple of hours hard as fucking granite. If she hadn’t called their night together a mistake, he’d be tossing her over his shoulder right now and treating her to an encore.

“Reload your clip,” he told her, keeping his tone all business when his mind was on anything but. He grabbed a handful of bullets from his pocket and watched her as she double-checked the chamber like he’d taught her before releasing the clip. She took the bullets from his hand and quickly fed them into the clip like a pro. After returning it to the grip with a firm click, she grabbed the slide and chambered a round.

“Should we spend another clip?”

Listen to her, talking like a pro. How fucking sexy was that? “Why don’t we take a break and get some lunch.”

“That sounds good.”

When she handed the gun back to him, he shook his head and dropped on bended knee before her.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes got big and she took a wary step back.

Her reaction caught him off guard until he realized what this must look like to her. “Stop it,” he said, catching her pant leg and dragging her back toward him. “What do you think I’m going to do? Propose?”

She blushed. “No . . . It’s just . . . not every day a guy drops to his knee in front of me.” Then she mumbled, “Bad memory is all . . .”

His gaze shot to Quinn’s, his grip on her pant leg tightening. He told himself it was to keep her from retreating, though it was a hell of a lot more than that. “What did you just say? Quinn, were you married?” Because that would actually explain a whole hell of a lot—her general mistrust of the male population as a whole, for one.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Asher. Will you . . . just get up?”

“No. Not until you answer the question.” He was starting to get pissed. He wasn’t used to this pussyfooting around. He’d commanded his own team of Special Forces soldiers for eight goddamn years and when he asked a question, he expected a fucking answer.

She tried to tug her foot free but he wouldn’t let go. She must have realized the only way either of them was moving was if she gave him the answers he wanted, because she exhaled a sigh and reluctantly dragged her violet gaze back to his.

“I was never married. I was engaged. Briefly.”

Fuck.
“How long ago?”

“Two years.”

That’s how long it’d been since she’d had a lover. Was her fiancé the last guy she’d been with before him?

“What happened?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, and seeing you down there is bringing back a lot of really painful memories. Will you please just get up?”

Asher rolled up her pant leg and took the gun holster from his waistband. He focused on strapping it to her ankle, wishing he could get his hands on the guy who had hurt her. It was a struggle to calm the tide of jealousy crashing against the banks of his self-control. Someone had obviously hurt her—badly. He holstered the gun at her ankle and pulled her pant leg over the weapon before standing.

“This is yours now. Keep it on you or within reach at all times. Think of it as your new best friend. You don’t go anywhere without it.”

He stood and headed back to the house, frustration gnawing in his gut. It annoyed the hell out of him that after what they’d been through, done together, she still wouldn’t open up and let him in. Her refusal to talk about something that was clearly a very raw and painful wound stung more than he cared to admit.

He thought he’d broken down her walls—thought they were moving past the I-don’t-trust-you phase in their relationship. Then again, he was probably being a huge fucking hypocrite because he wasn’t exactly anteing up the information on his past either. Though he seriously doubted she was responsible for killing scores of people, so it wasn’t exactly tit for tat.