“I can see that.” Her fingers splayed across her collarbone as her gaze moved from his chest to his face. “I really should get cleaned up before dinner, which I assume you’ll be making?”
“And if I win you over through your stomach?” he asked, the question tumbling from his lips.
“I don’t think anyone is that good of a cook.”
He tipped his hat. “That another challenge?”
“I figured you’d say that. Know you so well already.”
He dipped his head, their faces much closer. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not betting against me to lose?”
Chapter Fifteen
Ana slipped into the en suite with her travel bag and set it on the counter. She flipped on the shower and fished through the bag for one of the disposable phones she’d packed.
Door shut and locked. Water running. Check. Check. Check.
She closed her eyes, pulling to mind the number she’d committed to memory and then released a shaky breath. A breath on which floated a boatload of guilt, that is if guilt were able to manifest itself in a tangible form. She opened her eyes when the call connected and announced, “Hi, it’s me.”
“It’s about time.” He was quiet and restrained, which Ana had come to know meant he was reining himself in to keep from yelling. She assumed he’d tried to get to the second Volkov source in Miami and had discovered the man was under Federal protection. “We cannot get our man out of Florida. He is too heavily guarded. This is the second target you have failed to deliver as proof of your loyalty.”
“I shouldn’t have to prove my loyalty given who I am, and don’t forget, I reached out to your organization first,” she reminded him, doing her best to keep her tone confident and sharp. “I’m trying to help.”
“I still don’t trust you. You may be working with any number of my enemies. Or setting me up with the FBI.” The man had lived outside of Russia for so long his accent was more Jersey than anything else.
“I can assure you I am not. I want vengeance for what happened to my parents. Why do you think I joined the FBI? I needed access to their resources. Their case files.”
“And they hired you despite knowing the identity of your parents?” He’d asked this the first time she’d spoken to him. Was he trying to catch her in a lie?
“I was sixteen when my parents died. As far as management is concerned, my history toughened me up and gives me an edge over my colleagues,” she answered, shifting away from the door, hoping the walls were well-made and thick enough to prevent A.J. from overhearing. “You have to understand, I had no idea there were any living Volkovs until the FBI acquired two of your people and turned them as sources.”
“Where were you earlier?” he asked, seemingly satisfied with her answer. “My cousin says you were not at the meet today.”
“I had to leave D.C. to follow a lead,” she rushed out. “But we learned who got to Katya. Ivan Smirnoff, The Huntsman, is in the U.S. The FBI believes your people hired him.”
“This is not true,” he said coolly. “And there is no way Ivan would take a job for the SVR either.”
“Unless the SVR contracted someone else to hire him?” she proposed. “To put distance between themselves and the hit, especially because they are still not certain whether or not you have the key. They may be testing you. Or setting you up to draw the attention of the FBI.” Anything was possible at this point. “But I did find who we’ve been looking for.” Those words would buy her the time she needed and so much more. “I need you to trust me. Give me until Friday night, and I promise you’ll be one step closer to having what you need.”
“If you’re wrong . . .” He left the unfinished threat hanging in the air. Ana was well aware his fierce tone was designed to scare her, but he couldn’t contain the hint of excitement in his voice at the hope her claim might prove to be true.
It was the threat, however, that had her clutching on to the vanity counter to steel her nerves. “I won’t let you down.” She ended the call before he could say more, then powered off the phone.
Her heart hammered wildly and with fierce intensity. “What am I doing?” she wondered, eyes on the mirror where steam gradually worked to hide her reflection.
After a few calming breaths, she hid the phone in her bag and peeled off her clothes to go through the motions of showering before changing into clean clothes.
She put on a sheer white bra and panty set beneath her white, loose-fitting V-neck tee paired with pale green shorts. Her hair was still wet, but she hadn’t thought to bring a hair dryer, so she tied it into a side braid, added a little mascara, then went to find A.J.
From the smell of it, A.J. was cooking. Well, maybe burning something.
The man had proven through his words and his actions he was in this until the end, and he was there to protect her. Maybe a part of her did want him in her corner, though she’d be reluctant to admit that to him.
A.J.’s protectiveness didn’t seem to bother her the way Kyle’s had. Then again, Kyle’s protective nature always felt like it stemmed from a place of control. Or maybe she’d just always kept walls between them. Walls he continually worked to demolish—without success. He finally gave up and left her. And honestly, she’d been relieved he’d stopped trying.
A.J. was offering to teach her how to open up instead of demanding that she do it like Kyle had done. And she found herself wanting to accept A.J.’s invitation.
What was different now? Was it him or the fact her world changed four months ago when Porter came to her in Charlotte with a special assignment?
“That doesn’t sound good,” Ana shouted over the shrill blare of a smoke alarm upon entering the kitchen. She waved smoke from her face as A.J. cursed and tossed a sizzling hot pan into the sink and quickly turned on the faucet to douse the . . . blackened chicken? “I thought you knew how to cook.”
Ana couldn’t help but giggle as she watched A.J. plant his hands on his hips and stare at what was supposed to be their dinner. The smoke detector stopped beeping, and he arched his shoulders back before turning to face her. “I do, but it’s been a while. I took a phone call and forgot the stove was on.”
“Ah. That happens.” She smiled and maneuvered around the kitchen island to be nearer to him. “And now aren’t you glad I insisted on buying the frozen pizza?”
“You were right, madam,” he said while preheating the oven.
“Who was on the phone?” Work?
“Jessica. She has an update, but I told her I’d like her to share the news with you as well, so we’ll have a video call with her soon. You know, since I’m trying to be open and honest with ya.” He took off the white apron that read SEALs ARE BETTER in bold crimson letters and tossed it onto the counter.
Ana stifled a laugh. “Let me guess, you got that for your buddy as a housewarming gift?”
“Damn straight.” He’d changed clothes and was now wearing navy blue cargo shorts, a gray V-neck, and black flip-flops. She did a quick and hopefully discreet scan of his lower half since it was the first time she’d seen the man in shorts. He had the perfect amount of drool-worthy muscles on his tan legs. His feet were tan too, strong looking like those of a surfer. And when did I start finding that sexy? “We like to rag on each other.”