“Thank you.” That was all A.J. needed—a pissed-off ex on top of things.
“And we’re hoping to have an ID today or in the morning on the target Chris snapped a photo of last night, the person who Ana passed something off to,” Natasha stated.
A.J. still needed to press Ana about why she’d been in Porter’s house last night, but he was hoping she came forward about it herself.
“Okay, good. What about the FBI agent on your special task force? He doesn’t know we’re helping, right?” A.J. clarified as Ana sauntered back his way to get to the SUV after she’d unlocked the house and presumably opened the garage. “Or that Ana is with me?” He turned his back to the car once the driver’s side door was closed, and she pulled away.
“No,” Natasha quickly answered.
“Who is it, by the way? Can we know that?” A.J. was curious who’d provided Ana’s case file. Was he a friend of Ana’s, or was he going to be an enemy when it came time to clear Ana’s name after all was said and done?
“I’m sorry,” Natasha answered. “That information is need-to-know.”
“Even from us?” A.J. challenged, irked by her response.
“You know how things go,” was all she said, and he knew he’d have to suck it up and take it. For now.
“I, uh, should go get settled in.” A.J. cleared his throat. “Call me if you hear anything.”
“Stay out of trouble,” Wyatt reminded him.
“You know me, Chief,” A.J. responded.
“Yeah, brother, I do. And that’s what scares me.” Wyatt ended the call, and A.J. made his way past the side of the large home and into the garage.
“Everything okay?” Ana asked, both arms full of grocery bags.
“Yeah. You’re not on the wanted list yet,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, “and the Feds are leaning toward believing the Volkovs are behind the missing sources.”
The bags started to slip from her hands, so he quickly stepped in and grabbed them. She wet her lips and swallowed. “Did they say how they knew that?”
“Nah, that was just Bureau news, and we prefer to formulate our own opinion on matters.” He smiled, then side-eyed the back of the SUV. “Well look at that, the ice is still intact. Maybe the ice cream will live to see the inside of my stomach.” Humor. Only way to survive.
“Thank God for the small wins,” she nearly whispered while reaching for another bag.
He followed her up the short wooden steps to get inside the house. The place still had that new-home scent. The paint only a few weeks old.
“And your friend won’t show up unexpectedly?” she asked while he set the bags down on the massive marble island at the center of the kitchen. There was a panoramic wall of glass windows on the opposite side of the room that opened to the back.
“No. He was here a few weeks ago. Wrapped up the interior design with the designer on his weekend off, but he’s overseas right now.”
“And will the designer be coming by?” she questioned, opening the stainless-steel fridge to stock it with the food, her tone still a touch distracted or distant. Talk of her case and the Volkovs must’ve gotten to her.
“Well, my mom is the designer. Does it for fun, but no, last I heard, my mom won’t be coming around anytime soon.” He hoped not, at least. He’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. “And all this cabinetry,” he added while pointing to the wall of white cabinets, “is courtesy of my boy Jesse. He has a business, and he’s meticulous with details.”
“Well, your mom has great style, and Jesse’s very talented, too.” She raced a hand over the stove. “Nice six-burner gas range.” She glimpsed him and smiled. “Not that I cook.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to be an excellent chef.”
“Why did I somehow expect you to say that?” She lifted her eyes to the vaulted ceiling, taking it all in.
“I promise to dazzle you with my skills.” He just could not control himself around this woman. He’d meant to sound casual about his cooking skills, but his voice had come out deep and husky, giving the words unintentional meaning.
Ana cleared her throat, and based on the red flush on her face, A.J. guessed she’d been thinking the same thing.
“Er, you should check out the roof deck off the master upstairs,” he said quickly. “Nice three-sixty view of the property.” He’d taken a quick tour before borrowing the chopper last Saturday.
“But no sex in the master, right?” Ana’s eyes grew wide and her face redder as if she hadn’t meant to vocalize those words.
But hot damn, if she was thinking about sex . . .
“Yeah, that was his only rule.” A.J. walked past the butler’s pantry and back into the garage, wanting to give her a second to let the heat in her cheeks dissipate, and so he had a chance to adjust his pants and his thoughts.
She’s about to be labeled a fugitive. Probably accused of treason. Stop picturing her naked.
“Hey,” she said softly a minute later, standing off to his side in the garage.
A.J. set their travel bags down by his feet, grabbed the last bag of groceries, then closed the back hatch. He glimpsed Ana standing in front of Grant’s black BMX bike, looking at him intently. “Yeah?” He left the bags on the ground and approached her.
“I was just wondering if I’ve actually said thank you?” Her lashes fluttered as if she were pausing to find the right words. “Not many people would do what you’re doing.” Her green-eyed gaze swept over his length, starting at his shoes and working up to his face. “So, thank you.” She extended her palm for a formal handshake.
“Doing the right thing doesn’t deserve a thank you. But, since we’re in Bama, and we do hugs instead of handshakes, I wouldn’t mind one of those.” At this moment, he’d give anything to pull her into his arms. Comfort her, promise everything was going to work out just fine. But he couldn’t make that promise yet, could he?
She took a hesitant step to close the space between them, and honestly, he hadn’t expected a hug, only a rejection wrapped in humor.
But when she moved in and reached around his back, bringing her chest against his, he stilled in surprise. And then he wrapped her tight in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head since she was a good six inches shorter than he was.
“Thanks.” She stepped out of his reach after a moment and smiled.
He’d witnessed a few different kinds of smiles from her, some he saw from afar while watching her, others had happened since their collision course inside Porter’s house. This smile was the kind that broke his heart. It was one of mourning and pain and it had him wanting to scoop her back into his arms and shield her. Make everything right. But she wasn’t a fan of being protected, so he didn’t want to push her into being someone she wasn’t.
“I, um, could use a shower,” she said, appearing a bit awkward after their hug.
“Sure.” He grabbed the luggage, and she lifted the last of the grocery bags. Once inside, with his hands full, he kicked the door closed behind him and followed her into the kitchen. “Thought you took one at the hotel this morning?”