Beneath the Surface Read Online Free Page B

be wrapping up this week. I think it’ll go a long way with the jury if you spoke on his behalf.”
    And here was the rub. Was that why Jayce was really here? To try to convince him to intervene in Peterson’s trial? He should have known the guy wanted more than a souped-up AR. Asher tipped back his beer and downed a good portion of it. He was considering the possibility of getting piss-ass drunk when the red light above the fridge began to flash and a high-pitched beep sounded in the living room.
    “What the fuck is that?”
    “Someone’s coming up the driveway.” Asher rose from the chair, opened the sliding lid on the breadbox, and pulled out his Sig Sauer P226 from its spot beside a loaf of Country Hearth 12 Grain.
    “Holy shit, Tate, is there anywhere you don’t have a weapon stashed around here?”
    Probably not . . .  Asher tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and headed for the living room to silence the alarm. “I live thirty miles from the closest town and have a half-mile-long driveway. No one comes here by mistake.”
    He glanced out the picture window and saw the plume of driveway dust heading toward them. Instinct told him whoever was on their way wasn’t a threat. Anyone who’d come here with ill intentions wouldn’t be dumb enough to announce their arrival, but one could never be too careful. Asher had made plenty of enemies during his career in the Special Forces—foreign and domestic.
    His dad’s truck came into view and pulled to a stop in the turnaround. What was he doing here? This time of day, he’d be at The Rabbit Hole. It had always been his dad’s dream to own a little dive bar, and last year he’d checked it off his bucket list. Funny, the things people coveted. Asher’s mind began to spin with reasons for this impromptu visit and a knot of dread fisted in his gut. Was something wrong with Mom, or Fisher? His little brother was in PBR nationals this week—had a bull finally kicked his ass?
    Asher rushed to the door. As he broke out onto the porch, his feet skidded to a halt at the sight of the most gorgeous woman’s ass bent toward him—long legs, dark-wash skinny jeans, calf-high black boots . . . That was all he could see of her leaning over the driver’s window, talking to his dad. What the fuck? Jayce rushed out behind him, no doubt alarmed by Asher’s hasty dash, but was a little late on the Whoa, because he ran into him, nudging Asher farther onto the porch.
    “Holy shit . . .” The appreciative curse was whispered behind him.
    Asher shot his friend a scowl over his shoulder, not that the guy would notice. His eyes were fixed on the woman’s rear end. Without breaking gaze, Jayce lifted his beer and took a long swig. As she straightened, Asher got his first glimpse of pale blonde hair and was hit with a disconcerting memory blasting him back to Nikko’s wedding.

    Quinn Summers was a piece of work. Gorgeous beyond words, but not even close to being worth the effort it would take to tame that shrew. It was odd, her disdain toward him. Women usually liked him. Fuck, who was he kidding? They loved him, especially when he was in uniform. Maybe they thought it was their patriotic duty, or maybe it was a big coup to bang a Marine Special Forces officer. Well, ex-officer now, not that it really mattered.
    But Asher had never come across a female as prickly as Quinn before, and he’d be lying if he said she didn’t amuse the hell out of him. She hadn’t been a fan of his since the day they met, but today the woman had become downright nasty. Too bad he couldn’t remember what the hell happened last night to piss her off so much. And it wasn’t for lack of trying, but he’d been lit as shit and whiskey had an amnesic effect on him. It was a blessing and a curse, because most times he drank to forget, but there were those rare moments, like now, when he was pretty sure something significant had happened and he had no fucking clue what it was.
    Quinn