And felt her phone buzz.
When Ava answered, Caden’s short spurt of relief that she was okay fizzled. She was still in danger. “There’s someone sneaking around your apartment.”
“I know.” Her hushed voice came through the Bluetooth earpiece. “I heard him. By the French doors?”
“Yeah.” He opened the door to his truck and stepped out, eyes scanning the area.
“Are you outside?”
“I am.”
“Dumb question, sorry. Do you still see him?”
“No. He slipped around the side of the building, heading toward the back area.”
“Should have taken that second-floor apartment when I had the chance,” she muttered. “I’m coming out the door. If you’ll walk to the north side, I’ll go south.”
She would? What did she think she was going to do if she came upon the guy? Then again, she’d done a really good job of defending herself in the parking lot.
“Stay put, Ava. Please. You’re safer inside at the moment.” She didn’t answer. “Ava?”
A car engine roared to life, tires squealed on the asphalt, and the vehicle sped toward the exit. Ava ran toward him, her hands wrapped around the grip of her weapon. The sight of her holding the gun completely discombobulated him. It was so . . . un-Ava-like. She stopped next to him. “Was that him?”
“I think so. He probably circled the building and came back on the opposite side. We missed him.”
A long sigh slipped from her. “Okay, I have to admit, I’m starting to think someone is out to get me.”
“Is it bad that I’m not even tempted to tell you that I think you’re overreacting and paranoid?”
“I was kind of hoping you would.” She could hear the sirens heading their way.
Two cars pulled into the parking area and she tucked the weapon into the waistband of her jogging pants while Caden slipped his into the holster at his side.
When the police arrived, they spent the next thirty minutes filing their report, and Ava printed off a picture of the man her camera had caught. Which showed absolutely nothing but a hoodie-covered head.
When the officers left, she shook her head. “I seriously doubt they’re going to find the guy, but at least it’s on record.” She turned away from him and walked back toward the door of her apartment. Caden followed, his mind spinning at what he’d just witnessed. When he stepped inside for the second time that night, he shut the door behind him and watched her pace from the foyer into the kitchen and back, thumb and forefinger pressed against the bridge of her nose. Finally, she stopped and looked at him. “How did you know to come back?”
“I never left.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I was worried about you after the attack in the parking lot. It didn’t feel right leaving, so I sat in my truck and kept an eye on your place.”
“Oh. Thank you. I didn’t expect you to do that, but I appreciate it.” She walked to the couch to drop onto it. “It’s been a long night.”
“No kidding.” He made himself at home in the chair positioned next to the couch. “I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“Who are you?”
She blinked at him. Frowned. Seemed to search for something to say. “Caden, you’ve known me my entire life,” she finally said. “What do you mean, ‘who are you?’ Why would you ask that? You know who I am.”
He leaned forward, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “No, the Ava I’ve known is a very different woman than the one I saw—am seeing—tonight.”
“Why? Because I know how to defend myself? I was in the Navy, remember?”
“And you spent your days fighting our country’s bad guys on a computer, not engaging in hand-to-hand combat.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I still trained.”
“But . . .”
She sighed. “My father taught me too, all right? We didn’t just work puzzles. He made sure I could defend myself if I had to.”
“Your father, huh?” He crossed his arms and studied her.
“Yes.” She pulled in a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. “Yes. It was one of the things we did together when he was around.”
“I remember him being gone most of the time. He was a travel writer, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he—” She stopped and groaned.
“Ava? What is it?”
“I hate lies.” She met his gaze and he frowned at the torment in her eyes. “I honestly can’t tell you how tired I am of lying about him—and . . . everything.”
CHAPTER
SIX
And now that her father was dead, did it matter if she told Caden . . . some? Although, she was so used to keeping the truth buried, would she actually be able to get the words out?
“Ava? Hello? Earth to Ava.” He waved a hand in front of her face and she shook her head.
“Sorry,” she said.
“What do you mean, you’re tired of lying about him?”
Well, it was now or never. “As you know, my dad had a job that sent him all over the world. Sometimes for months at a time. Other times, he was gone a few days to a week. Mom and I never knew when he’d show up or how soon he’d have to leave again.”
Caden’s gaze held hers. “The life of a travel writer, right?”
“That’s what he told everyone. And that’s what it looked like if anyone were to investigate him.”
“Investigate him? But . . . ?”
“That was simply his cover. He was actually an . . . officer.”
Caden went still. His brows rose. “With the CIA, I’m guessing?”
The breath whooshed from her lungs. “Why is that the first officer that comes to mind for you?”
“It just made sense with everything else added in—but mostly the pictures found in the Fields’s home and the Russian connection.”
“I’ve never told a soul,” she whispered, “knowing it could mean his life if I let it slip.”
For several moments, he didn’t move. Instead, he studied his hands clasped between his knees. Finally, he lifted his head. “Ava, you do realize this puts a whole new spin on my case.”
“I know. Ever since you showed me the photographs, I’ve been thinking and thinking. Could it all be connected? Your case, the attack on me in the parking lot, and then someone trying to break into my home?”
“I’d say it’s connected, all right.”
“But how? I’ve never heard of the Fields before today. Then again, if this has to do with my father, I wouldn’t have.” She stood. “So we need to start with that. What’s the connection between that poor family and my father?”
Caden nodded, then rubbed a hand over his chin. “How did you know your father was CIA? I can’t see him just coming out and telling you.”
“He didn’t. I found out by accident.”
“How so?”
“An intruder broke into our house one night.” She paused. “Do you remember the night of that horrible storm with the thunder so loud it would make your teeth rattle?” He frowned. “I know, I know. We had a bunch of storms growing up, but this one was different.”