Page 70 of Shadow

Asher stood in the doorway with his hands raised slightly. “It’s me.”

She lowered the gun, her heart hammering. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He gave her a look and came inside.

“Perimeter?”

“Secured. Fire department’s here. Police on the way.” His voice was calm, and for some reason, his steady presence made her breathing slow. Made her hands stop shaking quite so much. “Neighbors are contained. Everyone’s accounted for.”

“Was it an attack?”

“Probably not.”

“Are we compromised?” She gave him a hard look.

He frowned at her. A beat. Then, “I don’t think so, Daph. I think the tree dented the hood of the car and pushed it down across the top of the battery, then possibly touched the top of the positive battery terminal, which created a short and started the cables on fire at the engine block. And that fire caught onto some of the oily grease on the side of the engine, and poof. Catastrophe.” He gestured with his hands at the end.

“That’s an oddly thorough analysis.”

“My dad was a mechanic.”

And then she saw his hands. “You’re burned.”

Asher glanced at his palms like he’d forgotten about them. Red skin. Blisters forming across the fingers. Raw patches where he’d gripped something hot. Not severe but painful. The kind of burns that would hurt for days.

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.” She stared at the burns. At the evidence of what he’d done. “Mark. You pulled Mark out.”

“He wasn’t in his car, but the door blew off, knocked him over. I pulled it off him.”

“Is he⁠—”

“Alive. Burned, but the local security is taking care of him.” He moved into the bathroom. His presence filled the small space. Solid. Competent. The kind of person you wanted beside you when everything went wrong. “His wife Renee is with him.”

She swallowed, sat in the chair.

Outside, a fire truck had pulled up, and Asher turned in the doorway, watching. The light pushed against his outline in the door, wide shoulders, his body tense.

And the feeling of him tackling her, protecting her with his body, just swooped in and rushed over her. Held her.

You just can’t help being a hero, can you?

Her throat tightened and she got up. “I probably need to let Destiny and Roger out of the bathroom.”

He looked at her. “Maybe leave them there for a minute.”

He smiled, but maybe he wasn’t kidding, because he let out a long breath. “I should go talk to the cops.”

She nodded, but still stood there, unmoving.

“It wasn’t an attack, Daphne,” he said. “Not the syndicate. Not Draven Frost sending a message.”

Yeah. Just a storm and bad timing and a neighbor in the wrong place.

But if it was an attack—if Draven had found them—why Mark’s car and not theirs? Why a neighbor’s vehicle instead of the witnesses they were protecting?

“Should we move?” she asked.