Sweat formed between her breasts beneath her white silk blouse, and her palms were damp. She did her best not to slouch in fear, though.
She’d have felt better if A.J. could have come with her, but he wasn’t exactly allowed to parade around the FBI Headquarters, even though Mendez now knew the truth about his team and their clandestine work for the President.
A.J. had opened up on the plane ride back to the U.S. and revealed the cloak-and-dagger story about how Bravo and Echo began eight and a half years ago. Most of Ana’s theories had been correct, and the fact he finally opened up to her was more than a big deal—it was a welcome into his second and secretive family, one with his brothers and sisters in arms.
As soon as they’d landed in D.C., Mendez was at the airport to personally escort her home to locate the translated ledger.
When Ana pulled the box of her childhood belongings out of the storage area beneath the stairs in her townhouse, she was overcome with emotion. It hadn’t been opened since she’d packed it immediately after her parents died. She’d held back her tears in front of Mendez while digging through the items, but after handing over the stack of scroll-like papers to the FBI director, she broke down and cried in A.J.’s arms.
Thieves. Con artists. Sent to the U.S. as spies.
But she was going to choose to allow some love for them to exist in her heart once again. A.J. had revived that organ in her chest, and knowing her parents had done the right thing when it mattered was enough to offer them forgiveness in their deaths.
After she’d collected herself, she watched Mendez leave with all the papers while A.J. held her tight to his side, a nervous energy bubbling inside of her to finally be at the end of a journey she’d spent fifteen years on.
Ana had previously provided Mendez with a list of ingredients as well as the “recipe” for her father’s magic trick. Well, as best as she could recall. So as soon as Mendez returned with the papers, HQ lab techs were ready to get started. With any luck, when she walked onto her floor today, she’d discover it’d been a success.
If it didn’t work, well, at least they had Adrik Volkov in custody. That was a huge win, and a judge in court would most likely prefer his testimony to some handwritten pieces of paper written a decade and a half ago.
Ana steadied her hand on the frame of the elevator door as it came to a stop at her floor. She took a moment to calm herself by thinking about waking up in A.J.’s arms that morning in her bed.
They hadn’t had sex after arriving in D.C. from Hungary late last night but falling asleep while he held her after such a traumatic weekend had been about as perfect as she could have ever hoped.
I can do this, she reminded herself as the doors opened.
She had no idea if she’d be allowed to stay on as an agent after today, given her identity was broadcasted all over the world, or if she even wanted to. Regardless, she needed to officially close this case that’d been open for over fifteen years.
Ana smoothed her hands over her hair, opting to wear it down to the office for the first time.
She took one step forward, her gaze on the red pumps she’d chosen to wear with her black slacks today instead of her usual dark ones. After a few more steps, she lifted her eyes from her shoes to see an agent at his cubicle rise at the sight of her, brows drawn together. Then another rose.
Dean spotted her next.
Griff.
Halle.
They all stood, and she clutched her chest when they brought their hands together to . . . oh, God, they’re clapping for me.
Words of congratulations. Comments about taking down Adrik Volkov. Finding the ledger. Apologies for their doubt. More and more words continued to flow as she slowly walked down the pathway between the desks, numb with shock.
She stopped when she reached where Dean and Halle stood. “I’m so sorry I kept so much from you,” she hurried out, still embarrassed by the secrets she’d kept.
Halle surprised her by pulling her in for a hug. And wow, she’d needed it. Tears of relief filled her eyes at the warm welcome she received but wasn’t sure she deserved.
“You’re one brave woman,” Halle said into her ear before pulling back.
“I can’t believe Porter and Winters are crooked,” Dean added while standing next to her and slapping a hand to her shoulder.
“Any word on the ledger?” she asked once the rest of the floor had settled down, and the agents returned to their work.
Only Dean, Halle, and Griff remained standing with her. “Mendez was waiting for your arrival to share if there’s news,” Griff stated.
“Winters is still out there.” Dean’s brows scrunched with anger. “And Porter may never wake up.”
Things had taken a tragic turn for Porter while she was en route back to the U.S., and the prognosis didn’t look good, but she couldn’t think about that right now. “If the Russians didn’t get to Winters, he’ll come for his money eventually.” But how long would Luke and Knox be able to sit and wait in the Maldives? Plus, Wyatt and Natasha were marrying this month.
“Quinn.”
Ana’s attention snapped toward Mendez, dressed in a charcoal suit, as he stood in the doorway of a conference room. He motioned for her with a wave of the hand.
“I guess that’s my cue.” Ana smiled, then started Mendez’s way, still on edge and wired. She probably should have skipped the espresso earlier.
Mendez shut the door behind her, and she found herself alone in the room with him. No pictures on the wall. No warmth or comfort. Just a long, sleek metal table and a few swivel chairs. “Have a seat.”
She circled the oval table and pulled out one of the navy blue chairs.
Mendez slid a gray file folder down her way.
Her hand slightly trembled as she opened it.
“We had to take photos. The ink didn’t last long, and it was a hassle to keep making it reappear. Those are copies.”
It worked? Her stomach did some flips at the sight of her father’s recognizable handwriting. There were multiple pages arranged in various categories, from account numbers and names of judges to orchestrated hits by the Volkov spies. There was a lot of information. A lot more than she expected.
“Did my dad conveniently leave off his offenses from the list when he translated the copy?”
“I would assume so.” Mendez sat across from her and clasped his hands on the table.
“Porter and Winters aren’t listed, but I guess that makes sense since they weren’t Volkov spies and were instead taking money from the Russian government.” She flipped through another page, searching for familiar names. No one she knew personally, which was a relief. And she noticed that many names on the list had been killed shortly after her parents died at the hands of the Russians.
“The SVR only began recruiting Americans shortly before”—he cleared his throat, a fist to his mouth—“your parents were murdered.”
Since the Russians never decoded the ledger, they didn’t know who or how many Volkov spies to eliminate fifteen years ago, which left a lot of people for the Bureau to go after.
“There’s one more page I thought you might want to keep.” He opened another folder, then slid a sheet her way.
Her breath hitched at the sight of a drawing of her. Hair around her face. Palm to chin. Eyes downward. I’ll always watch out for you, my red angel. Love, Dad, was written in cursive beneath. “Thank you,” she said looking up at him, liquid coating her eyes as she tried to hold back her tears.