Beneath the Surface Read Online Free

we didn’t ‘hook up’!” she hissed, stomping on his instep. “But I’m sure the coat-check girl who you did screw would be glad to know that you don’t even remember her!”
    His top lip curled in a crooked grin. Understanding lit his eyes as if it all made sense to him now. “I get it . . . You’re not pissed that we fucked, you’re pissed that we didn’t.”
    Heat flooded her cheeks—and everywhere else as her mind inadvertently took the place of the coat-check girl. “I think I actually hate you right now.”
    “Don’t hate the player, sweetheart. Hate the game.”
    “You make me sick!” She tried to step back and put a little distance between them, but he wouldn’t let her go.
    Instead, he pulled her closer—if that was even possible. Dipping his head to her neck, he let his lips brush against her thundering pulse as he growled, “That may be true, but I guarantee I could make you come harder than you’ve ever come in your uppity little life. Of course, you’d have to actually give up your precious control first, and I’m willing to bet you’ve never done that, have you? Given a man total freedom with your body?”
    Quinn gasped, and this time when she took a step back, he let her go. Using her momentum, she slapped him across the face. He didn’t even flinch, the bastard.
    “Took you long enough . . .”
    What the hell was that supposed to mean? Had he wanted her to hit him? What purpose could that possibly serve? No . . . it didn’t matter. She was done. Quinn took another step back, then turned and stormed away. Asher’s words were a low blow dealt with lethal precision. If she never saw this man again as long as she lived, it would be too soon.

CHAPTER
    3
    T his AR-15’s got really smooth action. Stays right on point.”
    “I told you it would.”
    “You did a great job modifying it to fully auto. How soon can you get one ready for me?”
    “A week?”
    Jayce flipped the safety, dropped the magazine, and double-checked the chamber with speed and fluidity that came from years of practice. He handed Asher the weapon and then pulled his pistol from a holster behind his back. Pointing it at the target seventy-five yards out, he emptied the Glock .45 semi-auto, forming a tight cluster of holes around the center ring. Impressive fucking shooting, especially from this distance. Then again, Asher wouldn’t expect anything less from his old Recon Six sniper and fellow team member.
    “Missed one . . .” Asher nodded downrange.
    Jayce chuckled. “Blow me, Tate. Let’s see you do better.” He reloaded the .45, slammed the clip home, and handed Asher the gun.
    He took aim and fired the weapon with the same rapid succession as his friend, blowing out the abused center of the target.
    “Ha! Missed one!” Jayce threw a sharp elbow into his ribs. “Where’d you fucking learn to shoot?”
    “From the same asshole that taught you, obviously.”
    “Remmy . . .” they answered in unison, and shared a nostalgic chuckle. Asher made the sign of the cross over his chest and lifted his eyes toward heaven.
    “Fucking miss that guy,” Jayce murmured. “Best goddamn sniper I ever knew.”
    Asher couldn’t disagree. “So, you gonna tell me what you need the gun for?”
    Jayce cut him a glance and holstered his weapon. “Not unless you want in. This one’s off the books.”
    “All your jobs are off the books.”
    “They are since Nisour.”
    He didn’t miss the disgruntled tone in Jayce’s voice. “No thanks, man. I’m actually thinking about retiring.” He was prepared for his friend’s surprised look, but not the disappointment that ground the salt deeper into Asher’s festering wound.
    “Come on. You can’t let that shit get to you. Some missions just go to hell and there’s nothing you can do about it. Insurgents look like civilians. You can’t tell them apart. That’s what I told them at Peterson’s trial and that’s what I’m telling you right now. It’s