Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You regret volunteering to surveil her yet?” Chris asked, and A.J. shook his head in disbelief as Chris used chopsticks to shovel the contents of a container of lo mein into his mouth like he hadn’t just scarfed down a burger a few hours ago.
They were sitting in A.J.’s Suburban rental on a stakeout of FBI Special Agent Anastasia Quinn.
Did A.J. want to see Ana again? Yes. For this reason? Hell, no.
A.J. draped an arm over the top of the steering wheel and leaned forward in the driver’s seat where they sat parked outside the FBI Hoover Building.
The exterior needed an update. Age had tarnished the structure.
Ink stains were beneath the flag poles surrounding the entrance doors.
The FBI police car out front didn’t look up for the challenge of a high-speed pursuit and was in need of a good bath.
“I mean, I didn’t actually think you’d opt out of the chance to stalk the woman you’ve been thinking about for basically forever, but still,” Chris went on when A.J.
had remained quiet, then placed the now-empty container into a bag by his feet and threw the chopsticks inside as well.
And great, now the vehicle would smell like a Chinese restaurant for a week.
It was day two of watching Ana. She’d stayed at her office nearly all day Sunday.
Then he and Chris had followed her to work today.
Shadowing an FBI agent wasn’t high on the list of things he enjoyed doing, especially when it was a woman he was interested in dating.
Who, as it turned out, might be a traitor.
“I’m not stalking her,” A.J. countered.
“Mmmhmm.” Chris lowered his shades to shoot A.J. a you’re full of bullshit look, one he pulled off well, then set his glasses back in place. “So . . . you really think POTUS believes in the existence of that Daybreak Ledger?”
“It’s Daylight, dumbass,” he corrected in his typical, sarcastically polite manner. “It amazes me you didn’t get tossed from BUD/S by calling officers the wrong names.”
“Funny.” But hell, Chris and remembering names paired as well as ice cream and pickles (well, aside from what his mom said about pregnancy).
“But annnnyway,” Chris began dramatically, “I don’t think we’d be sitting here right now, spying on a team of people who spy on spies,” he said with a grin, “if the President didn’t think we might get our hands on that ledger. ”
“Well, if there are a bunch of names in a record book from years ago, and some of those people are still living amongst us, they deserve to be outed as the traitors they are,” A.J. quickly responded, the very idea infuriating him.
“That might be one reason POTUS wants that ledger. And well, also get ahold of the key that’s supposed to decipher it.
” Chris smirked. “And can you imagine if there really is a list of murdering spies and their victims, not to mention Russian double agents in other countries? That’d be a powerful political tool. ”
Chris was probably right. And maybe the ledger would offer the U.S. some leverage over Russia for once.
Chris snatched Ana’s case file from the back seat and opened it on his lap. “Man, your girl is smart.” He thumbed through her records, reading them aloud to give A.J. a hard time. He’d done the same on Sunday. Chris didn’t ever miss a chance to drive A.J. batshit crazy.
“She’s not my anything.”
“Born in New York City,” Chris began, ignoring A.J. and faking a Southern accent for reasons unknown, but that was par for the course when it came to Echo Three. The guy should’ve been an actor. Of course, A.J. would sure miss him if he were to ever quit Echo Team. “Moved around a lot.”
That had to be tough.
“Her parents were traveling salespeople. They died in a car accident when she was sixteen, and she lived in foster care until eighteen.” A.J.
’s gaze slid sideways to catch Chris shaking his head in sympathy.
“Then she got accepted to Walden in Minneapolis. Psych degree.” He tossed a quick look A.J.
’s way as if the psychology degree would have been a deal-breaker had Chris been interested in her.
The last thing Chris wanted was anyone trying to get a read on him.
“John Jay College of Criminal Justice for her double master’s degrees in criminal and forensic psychology. ”
“I remember all this from when you read it out loud this morning. And yesterday.” And when I studied the file until my eyes went blurry.
“Did some consulting for the NYPD before joining the FBI at twenty-five.” Yeah, Chris was relentless. “Wonder why she turned down the FBI recruiters two times before saying yes on a third. They must’ve wanted her pretty bad like someone else I know.”
“Would you shut up?” A.J. teased. “I swear, sometimes you’re more seal than Navy.”
Chris made a barking seal noise, and the fact the man knew to do that, well, exactly.
A.J. smiled. “Polar bears. Seals.” The time Chris had confronted a polar bear, Chris had worried more about saving the bear from getting shot than getting eaten by the thing or killed by the Russian agents nearby that would have happily put a round in his ass.
“Do not bring up that incident with the bear.” Chris pointed at him. “Just because I like animals—”
“And so do I, but, brother, if it’s me or a polar bear, well, all bets are off.
” A.J.’s hands went to the gear shift when he spotted Ana rounding the side of the building.
He’d nearly missed her exit when a trolley tour vehicle blocked part of his view.
“She’s on the move,” he said, resuming some sense of seriousness now, a reminder they were there for work.
Ana had her red hair in a tight bun at the back of her head. A gray pantsuit with white blouse beneath. Black heels. Sleek black sunglasses. He was too far away to see the color of her gorgeous eyes from where he sat, but he remembered them.
A darker green than his. Something akin to the color of the forest back home in Alabama. The same one where he smacked his head on that death trap of rocks.
“Can’t believe she took a promotion and moved to D.C., and I had no idea.” She’d made the move after the one time A.J. had Googled her. Wyatt and Asher had made fun of him for days about that, and he hadn’t Googled her again.
“She deserves the promotion as far as I’m concerned,” Chris commented. “She was pretty talented when we worked with her last year. And hell, she put up with you.”
A.J.’s eye-roll was hidden behind his aviator sunglasses, but the grin on Chris’s face meant he surely felt the scathing look shot his way.
A.J. fidgeted with the brim of his hat. Both he and Chris had ball caps and sunglasses on, but A.J. had the feeling if Ana looked back toward the SUV, she’d recognize them. Shitty Federal agent if she didn’t, he supposed.
The woman seemed like such a straight arrow, but she’d surprised him by rolling out some humor when they worked that case together last year.
She had a dry, sarcastic wit, and half the time, he wasn’t sure if she was being serious or if it’d just been a slip, but the way her humor slid off her tongue was sexy as hell.
“She’s not going to her Volvo.” Chris threw a finger toward where Ana walked down the street. “Turning on Eleventh.”
“I can see that,” A.J. said while easing into traffic to keep up with her. He also had to stay far enough away so that a trained agent of her caliber wouldn’t notice him.
“Why is she going that way?” Chris asked when Ana made another turn. Followed by another shortly after.
They were on 10th Street NW, heading back toward the Hoover Building, which made no sense. “Shit. You see that? Damn, she’s got fast hands.” Chris shifted his glasses down a touch as if rewinding the scene to re-watch in slow motion.
“A pass was made. She must have had to collect something from a source, and that’s why the unusual walking loop,” A.J. reasoned.
“Pull over. I better follow that guy.” Chris pushed his glasses back in place as A.J. stopped near the sidewalk. “Hey, don’t give me that look.”
Had A.J. looked at him? Chris was feeling guilty, too, so it would seem.
“We’re supposed to monitor all her interactions,” Chris said as he opened the door. “This is to rule her out as a suspect. Okay?”
“You saying that to make yourself feel better?” But A.J. went ahead and waved him off. “Meet you after.” He hated that they had to spy on her, but the team had been burned before, and he couldn’t turn a blind eye just because he was ridiculously attracted to her.
A.J. waited for Chris to hop out of the SUV, then picked up his pace to catch up with Ana. She’d gone straight to her Volvo and climbed into the driver’s seat.
After a few minutes, he was following her on Pennsylvania Avenue and heading past Capitol Hill, in the direction of her rental, which wasn’t far away.
According to the profile, Ana had moved to D.C. about two and a half months ago after accepting an offer with the CI Division. She’d been living out of a hotel until recently.
“Did I delete my message?” he asked himself while turning up the volume on the radio when the singer Brett Young came on. “I think so.” He expelled a breath through his nose. “Talking to myself again.”
He rolled down his window once he was parallel parked on her street a few houses down from hers. He was close enough to put eyes on her as she exited her Volvo and hurriedly went up the steps to her front door, but far enough away not to draw notice.
Ana stole a look over her shoulder as she stuck the key in the lock as if she sensed someone was there. And damn, she was good.
He tugged at the brim of his hat and shifted back in his seat, moving fully out of view of her door.
A.J. texted Chris his location, then snatched Ana’s case file once she was inside, and her front room light was on.
He flipped through the papers for the millionth time, but guilt slowly ate at him.