Under Pressure

“Asher, why don’t you start by telling us who you are and how you got involved with Trident Diving?”

He nodded, swallowed and tried again. But nothing came out.

Shit.

The quiet that had descended over the room began to fade. Feet shuffled. Someone murmured. Somewhere paper fluttered.

He wasn’t going to be able to do this.

The memory of every humiliation he’d ever experienced because of his failures came flooding back to him. His struggle to be understood through the debilitating stutter that all the experts claimed was psychological, but that he couldn’t seem to stop. Each time he’d seen sorrow, frustration and disappointment in his grandmother’s eyes when therapy didn’t work. His inability to make his mom happy. Make her stay. Walking into his home, after being gone for months, to find it absolutely empty of everything but the divorce papers Krista had left for him.

“Fuck this,” he growled, shoving away from the desk and stalking toward the door. He didn’t need to add another failure to a list that was already plenty long.

No one tried to stop him. The crowd stared even as they parted to let him pass. He didn’t look at any of them.

He didn’t need to.

The expression of utter horror on Kennedy’s face was enough.

* * *

HOLY HELL, WHAT had just happened?

One minute Asher had been leaning against the desk looking all remote, brooding and eminently lickable, and the next he’d been cursing and storming out.

The second he disappeared every eye in the place turned to her. She had no clue what to say.

Daniel scowled at her. “What was that?”

She shook her head, at a complete loss. “I have no idea.”

“Ms. Duchane, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how valuable our time is. Every minute we sit idle costs the company money. No one is going to be happy about this. Our entire show revolves around that man.” He pointed out the door.

“I’ll fix this.”

“You better. No one at Naughton Media was thrilled when your brother backed out.”

Yeah, neither was she, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“I have just as much invested in this as you do, Daniel.” Maybe more since her entire future hinged on this going well. If the documentary faltered her position in Seattle could be in jeopardy.

Kennedy pulled in some much-needed oxygen, hoping it would settle her own jangling nerves.

“Look, I just need a little time to figure out what’s going on.” Turning fully toward him, she placed her hand on his arm and pressed into his personal space. It was a calculated tactic, but one she didn’t feel a smidge of remorse for employing.

She’d do whatever she had to in order to fix this.

“It isn’t like you can just pack up and leave.”

She realized maybe those weren’t the best words she could have chosen when Daniel’s mouth went tight.

“I’ll take care of it,” she promised again.

She didn’t wait for Daniel to react before pushing through the people clustered at the doorway.

She stood in the hallway for several seconds, scrolling through a list of places in her head that Asher could have disappeared to. His room was a logical choice, but he’d realize that and probably avoid it. There was the upper deck, but it wouldn’t provide much in the way of privacy. The captain was in the wheelhouse steering the Amphitrite. The galley and mess were rejected pretty much before she’d thought of them because everyone went there when they had time off.

Where would he go?

In a flash, it hit her. When Jackson was frustrated, he turned to the water. When Knox needed to clear his head, he took his car out on to the open road. On more than one occasion she’d found Asher in an empty office at Trident, the guts of several guns spread out across the desk as he painstakingly cleaned each one.

The only problem was empty space was at a premium. Luckily, she knew a little secret.

Instead of heading toward the open deck, Kennedy strode farther down the hall, away from the fresh air and light. Down a tight set of stairs at the back of the hallway.

The noise of the engines rumbled louder and louder, but she ignored it. The vibration running through her chest was more difficult to dismiss.

The space was dark and damp and uncomfortably warm from the combination of tropical heat and running engines. Her clothes began to cling to her skin.

There was a small room that most people didn’t even know was down here. They stored spare parts for the ship, tools, equipment that was rarely used.

And a small table she’d never understood the need for. She did now.

Jerking open the door, she was pleased when her hunch proved correct. Asher didn’t even look up as he continued to break apart the piece in his hands.

She couldn’t help but watch his dexterous fingers sliding across the smooth metal with authority and familiarity.

What would those hands feel like on her skin?

Kennedy pushed the question away, refusing to acknowledge that it even existed.

“What the hell happened back there?” she asked.

His hot gaze flicked up to hers for a brief moment before dropping back to his task.

At least he didn’t try to pretend he had no clue what she was talking about...he simply ignored her. Kennedy thought maybe that was worse.

Her temper flared, which wasn’t anything new with this man. There was something about Asher that got under her skin, pulled a reaction from her that seemed too big to control.

What was it about him that drew her in even as she realized the only result would be pain, irritation and probably humiliation?

Today, she’d had enough.

Stalking forward, Kennedy stopped on the opposite side of the table from him. Without hesitation, she leaned over and snatched the gun out of his hand.

He reached after her, trying to grab it back. She might be small, but she was quick, and the table stood between them.

“Give that back,” he growled. “You could hurt yourself.”