Her run-in with a man named Maxwell wasn’t a coincidence, and Asher wouldn’t take someone fucking around with his family or his woman. Jenny sighed as she watched The Late Show in his arms. This wasn’t how he’d thought his day would end. No way she could’ve guessed it either. She had to be exhausted. Flight from Florida, glass or two of wine, and he’d basically jumped her out of nowhere. Add the spike of arousal and then the dread of a stalker—the girl needed to pass out. As much as he wanted to take her to her room and strip her down, it wasn’t going to happen tonight. “You falling asleep, sweetheart?” She yawned. “Nope.” “Right.” Besides, if he put her in bed, then he could follow up with Murphy, make arrangements for someone to talk to Jenny first thing in the morning. Maxwell contacting Jenny was a huge a break in the investigation. But Maxwell’s blatant move had been dangerous. Asher wanted to pace the room like a caged tiger, ready to rip flesh from bone given the chance to attack.
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