A.J. called him “Mac” for short, and Mac was adorable with a full head of brown hair despite the fact his mom was a redhead. He had the brightest green eyes Ella had ever seen. Little cherub cheeks.
Ella would hate missing the next six months of his life, especially since Ana and A.J. would be living in Bama all of next year. A former FBI agent, Ana now taught courses at Quantico, but she was taking the next year off to spend with their son.
But how many times will I get this chance to design clothes for Rochella? To go to Paris and work alongside the greats? Just the one.
“Why would I care what Jesse thinks?” Ella finally answered A.J. “You guys will meet Henry Rochella at the New Year’s Eve party. Hopefully, that will ease your Paris-worries.” Ella made prayer hands. “Just please don’t scare him. No interrogations.”
Shep and A.J. exchanged a quick look that said it all. They had every intention of giving the billionaire the third degree.
Ella turned in search of Rory for an assist, but damn her, the traitor had left her alone with her brothers. Now it was four to one. Yeah, with baby Marcus in her arms, Rory’s brain had turned to mush.
Before A.J. had a chance to toss back a response that’d most likely piss Ella off, the kitchen door swung open, and Jesse was there with his gaze sharp on Ella. That fierce intensity set in his blue eyes had her gulping.
“A.J.,” Jesse began, even though he’d yet to rip his focus from Ella, “I need to talk to you. Now.”
Chapter Four
Jesse tossed his Stetson inside his gray Dodge Ram and shut the door before turning to face A.J. on the driveway. He took a deep breath and willed his voice to remain steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his body after ending his third call of the day with Thatcher. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Had he accepted the job? Yes and no. He told Thatcher he’d handle the problem but that he’d be acting independently from the Agency. No longer would he take kill orders without participating in the intelligence-gathering process. Not that Thatcher had the target package put together for him anyway. The only information he currently had was the target’s name and motivation.
This had been the first time Thatcher had ever come to Jesse without the mark’s location. And Jesse would need Falcon’s help.
“I gathered as much.” A.J. set his back to the side of his truck and folded his arms. They’d been best friends for as long as Jesse could remember, but would that friendship come to a crashing end tonight? “This have anything to do with Ella and Paris?”
Jesse stood before him, leaving enough space between them so that if A.J. came at him swinging, he’d have a chance to duck. Or maybe I let him hit me?
Thankfully, they were too far from the main house for anyone to hear. And they were a good few hundred yards away from the ranch hands’ bunkhouse too.
Jesse swept his gaze left and right, searching for anyone outside, but from the looks of it, they were alone. “She can’t go to Paris. But that’s not what I have to tell you.”
“Can’t, huh?” A.J.’s question was steeped in suspicion. The man could sense this was more than Jesse being possessive of Ella.
“You know that big secret you’ve been keeping from everyone? That you didn’t really retire as a SEAL, and you run clandestine ops for POTUS?” Jesse let go of an uneasy breath, and A.J. straightened, his body going ramrod straight now. This was the first time Jesse confessed he knew the secret A.J. hadn’t revealed. “I’ve kept a secret myself.”
A.J. took a slow step forward, his eyes pinned to Jesse’s face. Clearly stunned Jesse knew his secret and most likely nervous about whatever Jesse was about to share.
“From the time I got out of the Army up until July of last year, well, I worked for the CIA.” God, this was not how he planned to spill this news to his best friend. Actually, he’d never anticipated telling A.J. his secret, like he assumed A.J. hadn’t planned on telling him his. “But not in the typical sense. I wasn’t an agent or an officer.”
“I’m sorry?” A.J. tilted his head, a confused look on his face, like Jesse had just spoken Klingon or something. “You’re going to have to spell this out for me. Because I’m sure I didn’t hear you right.”
Jesse massaged the knot lodged between his neck and shoulder. “The CIA only used me for specific assignments. That’s why I’d come and go from here.” The words he was avoiding were stuck in his throat. Because, in all honesty, he felt sick whenever he stopped to think about who he’d been. What he’d done.
“Were you working with DO or SAD?” A.J. sputtered the acronyms for the two elite clandestine arms within the Agency—Directorate of Operations and the Special Activities Division.
“Neither. Well, I guess you could say I was sort of part of SAD. But I wasn’t with Ground Branch.”
Ground Branch consisted of former special operators that handled sensitive operations and protective services for the Agency. The tragedy in Benghazi? Ground Branch boots had been on the ground that day.
The truth of it was, Jesse was more like a CIA ghost. A few top-secret clearance levels above the others in that division.
A.J. closed the space between them and set a hand to Jesse’s chest as realization hit. “All that stuff Savanna was talking about the day you fought off those men in her place back in October. How you killed that guy in a heartbeat. She said you had moves like John Wick. I know you’re a good fighter, but I thought she was exaggerating.” A.J. dropped his hand from Jesse’s chest and took a step back. “You’re a fucking hitman? An assassin?”
Jesse cursed under his breath, hating the way those words sounded coming from his best friend, especially when they were drenched in disappointment. “Surely you know the CIA has people like . . .” Me. “I’m not that guy anymore. Like I said, I quit last year. I was in for a little less than five years.”
“Five years of contract killing is still five years of killing,” A.J. said in a low, steady tone. “I don’t understand why. How.” The look in his eyes damn near shredded Jesse.
His best friend served as a mirror right about now. The expression cutting across his face was exactly how Jesse felt whenever he eyed his own reflection. Unworthy of . . . Ella. Extremely un-fucking-worthy of that woman with a pure heart.
It’s not like A.J. didn’t take out the trash in his line of work. He cut down enemies as well. But Jesse’s sole purpose had been to end a life, and he doubted A.J.’s missions were centered around a kill shot. Or coming up with creative ways to disguise a murder as an accidental death and so on.
“It’s not like I was killing politicians or helping with regime changes, if that’s what you think I did. Not saying that doesn’t happen, but I only accepted certain jobs.”
“Accepted certain . . .” A.J. dropped his words, clearly unable to stomach the conversation. “I have to take lives in my line of work, but your one-and-only objective was to . . .” Another unfinished line of thought he seemed unable to work through.
“I’m not proud of it. But when the CIA recruited me, I was in a really bad place. And they made me feel like—”