She hadn’t been with anyone since Kyle, and even when they were together, their sex life hadn’t been great. She was never in the mood. She’d destroyed the redheaded stereotypes Kyle had had in his head before dating her.
Cold, dead heart. Her eyes fell to her ring finger.
“What happened with you and Kyle?” A gentleness ebbed through his words this time. “You, um, over him?”
“Is this your way of feeling me out?” she asked. “Seeing if you have a chance?”
“Just trying to get to know you a little better.” His answer almost sounded sincere. Not like he was working a case. Working her for information.
Maybe now was the time for them to discuss what A.J. already knew about her background. Better yet, there was probably a file on her somewhere in his car. She’d love a peek, and she casually stretched her arms up and turned her head toward the back.
“It’s not there.”
“How do you know what I’m looking for?” she challenged.
“I’ve been wondering when you were going to ask me about whatever file I have on you, but since you don’t like to talk, we can just—”
“No,” she cut him off. “Let’s talk about what you know.”
“I know a lot, sugar. About horses, weather patterns, guns, conspiracies. You name it, I probably know a thing or two about it. Better be more specific with what you’d like to know.”
“Me. What do you know about me?” She shifted to face forward, and the movement pulled the strap of her tank down, exposing the top of her bra. Shit. She quickly adjusted the seatbelt and righted her top. The last thing she wanted was to flash her boobs when he needed to keep his eyes on the road.
She’d order him to pull over so she could drive, but her hands and fingers were still cramped up from strangling the steering wheel last night.
I’m basically a fugitive. If not yet, I will be soon. But she’d known the risks when she’d agreed to her assignment the day Porter offered her the promotion. She never expected it all to go down like this, though. Or for A.J. to walk into her life and offer a hand when she needed it the most.
“Born in New York. Moved around a lot. Parents traveled for work before they died.” He paused. “I’m, um, sorry for your loss.” When it was clear she wasn’t going to respond, he added, “You excelled in all your studies. Recruited by the FBI. Their third time courting you was the charm. You were assigned to Charlotte after Quantico. Bounced around a few different squads over there. Married Kyle Jeter. No relation to the baseball player. I checked.” He cleared his throat. “And then you got divorced shortly after we worked that case together. Took a position in D.C. with the Counterintelligence Division. Six people in your unit, plus your unit and section chiefs,” he added, speaking very matter-of-factly. “Lots and lots of blank spaces, though. I’d much rather hear your story from you since you lived it.”
She slumped back into her seat after A.J. had summed up her life in just over thirty seconds. He had the Anastasia 1.0 version.
Part of her was relieved he didn’t know the tragic circumstances of her life. The other part almost wished he did know, thereby sparing her the need to reveal everything face-to-face when or if she chose to do so. She’d never mustered the courage to tell her husband of three years the truth. How could she confide in this man who should have felt like a stranger but didn’t?
“Who hired you?”
“Classified,” he abruptly answered, then his shoulders sagged apologetically. “Sorry, I, uh, well, you know how it is.”
And she supposed she did get it. Her world was one classified bubble. Even with the Hatch Act, she wasn’t supposed to share political opinions given her job, let alone classified intel.
Ana’s gaze veered out the side window, her thoughts flitting about as she tried to piece everything together. “Well, someone suspected a leak since all of the sources that went missing were attached to my unit. I’m guessing they didn’t want to tip off the mole by sending someone from the FBI to watch us, so they went outside the lines on this one, which is how you’re involved.”
Porter would have warned her if he’d had any idea about the external investigation being conducted on her team. Well, he would’ve warned her before shit hit the fan last night. God, she hoped he was okay.
But aside from her and Porter, who else knew about the files in his safe? Who the hell was that guy in Porter’s house last night?
“Does it really matter who hired me?” A.J. asked a few deep breaths later. “All you need to know is that you’re in good hands. If someone at the Bureau is a traitor, we’ll take him or her down. And my team has excellent facial recognition software. If anyone can find your missing sources and The Huntsman, it’s Jessica and Harper.”
“I thought Jessica was on maternity leave.”
A.J. side-eyed her. “How much did Adriana tell you about my team?”
She was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to handle the direction of the conversation. “Not much. Does Adriana know about us?” She regretted the use of “us” almost immediately, knowing A.J. would most likely spin her words.
“Adriana knows you’re with me, yes.” Wow, a straightforward, non-flirtatious answer. What was up with that? Operator mode again? Of course, she heard that Navy SEALs had the ability to be a warrior one moment and help a woman with her groceries the next. Warrior to gentleman to warrior within the blink of an eye. A.J. was most likely the same. “And Knox will soon know she kept you a secret.”
“It’s not her fault,” Ana said, worried about a marital fight because of her.
“And yet, according to Wyatt, Adriana is not throwing you under the bus and blaming you for withholding your friendship from us.”
“Well, she should.” Guilt pushed through her at ever asking Adriana to keep a secret from her husband.
“And real friends go to bat for each other. It sounds to me like you’re not too familiar with what it’s like to have people in your corner like that.” His tone was sad, as if he truly felt pity for her.
“I, um.” Shit, was she getting emotional right now? No, it had to be bad mascara. The stinging in her eyes was because she forgot to buy a new tube, too preoccupied with her assignment to remember to shop. “Kyle was never in my corner,” she continued, slightly surprised she was making such a confession. “Well, more like he tried to box me into one. Too protective. I didn’t need that. I don’t need—”
“You don’t need help? Someone to care about you?” he asked, and how was this conversation taking such a sharp and personal turn?
“I don’t need protecting. I can handle myself.” Cold and dead. Heartless.
“You ever consider that keeping someone safe isn’t because they don’t believe you’re capable, but because they just care?”
“Are you really defending Kyle?” she asked in surprise, twisting to the side to gain a better view of him.
A.J. shifted lanes and pulled off the side of the highway so fast she’d barely had time to steel herself for the action. She jerked forward, the seatbelt catching her, when he firmly applied the brakes.