Harry lowered himself to his makeshift bed, grimacing at his ankle.
“You’ll have to take your boot off eventually,” Asher said sleepily. His blinks were getting longer. He’d only pretended to sleep on the boat; there was no way he was falling asleep in front of Harry Harrigan, being vulnerable and exposed like that. But now he had no choice. He wanted Harry to fall asleep first, but he didn’t like his chances.
“Hm,” Harry grumbled.
Asher studied Harry’s side profile, watching his chest rise and fall... such a broad chest, huge biceps and forearms. He had barely an ounce of fat on him. The man was pure muscle. Honestly, if Harry wanted to kill Asher while he slept, with nothing but his bare hands, he very well could.
And so Asher closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, knowing if death was to meet him, he’d rather not see it coming.
* * *
Death didn’t wake Asher.A knock at the door did, followed by a woman’s voice. “Breakfast,” she said, her Arabic strong.
Harry was already there and he opened the door as Asher sat up. A stern woman thrust a tray at Harry, not even trying to hide her disdain for him. Before he could speak, she was gone, cursing him as she walked away.
Asher couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Harry’s face. He turned and elbowed the door closed. “You have that effect on everyone,” Asher said, still chuckling.
Harry snarled at him and put the tray on the table, limping slightly. Breakfast, as Mahla had declared, was pancakes and honey, eggs, bread with olive oil, and mint tea. It smelled incredible.
It tasted even better.
Asher couldn’t help but moan as he ate. “I always loved Morocco.”
Harry ate another mouthful of pancakes. “Come here often?”
Asher shrugged. “As good a place as any. What about you? The apartment in Madrid. You have one in Paris also, yes?”
Harry quirked an eyebrow. “You seem to know a lot about me.”
Asher sipped his tea to hide his smile. “I was given a brief when I got your contract.”
“Oh, right. When you were supposed to kill me. How’s that working out for you?”
Asher chuckled. “I can remedy it for you now if you’d like.”
Harry gave him a flat stare as a response. He finished his breakfast and sipped his tea, scrunching his nose at it.
“You don’t like?”
“It’s okay.”
“Mint tea is very good for you,” Asher said.
“It’s not coffee.”
Asher snorted. “Your brief never mentioned anything about you being so grouchy.”
Harry put his tea down and sighed. “Well, I’ve been shot at, jumped off a building, been shot at again, had four schoolboys come to my apartment to try and kill me, had you being a pain in my ass ever since. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”
“I’m a pain in your ass that saved your ass,” Asher replied. “And they weren’t schoolboys. Maybe college age.”
“Lucky to be eighteen, any of them.”
“When did they get so young?”
“When we got old.”
Harry’s gaze cut to Asher’s. “Old? I’m thirty-six. How old are you?”