Chapter 9 #2
A tentative step closer had her only inches away again. “You were at an FBI section chief’s house tonight,” she added when he’d stayed quiet. “So, even though part of me would prefer you were stalking me to find a way into my pants”—did I just admit that?—“I’m assuming you’re here for work.”
A.J.’s brows shot straight up. He made a whistling sound and tugged at the material of his black Under Armor tee. “Shooo. It just might be hotter than holding a firecracker at both ends in here,” he drawled.
“AC repairman comes tomorrow.” It was unusually hot for D.C. Maybe she could blame the heat wave for her brain fritzing out around A.J.?
“And are you trying to distract me to keep from answering my question?” The man was good, she’d give him that. “Your sexy smile and that swagger of yours won’t disarm me.” At least she hoped they wouldn’t, not again.
“So, you think I got a sexy smile and, uh, swagger, huh?”
She hissed and turned toward the counter, unable to maintain a straight face when that was exactly what she should’ve been doing. “Why were you spying on me? I know you weren’t watching Porter. We only just learned he was missing. And you were at that bachelor party and—”
“Come again?” At the touch of his hand on her arm, she slowly faced him. “How do you know where I was? Sounds to me like you may have been doing the spying.”
Her eyes fell to his light grasp on her upper arm. Why didn’t she want him to let go? Why did she want him to pull her against his chest, wrap his strong arms around her, and make everything okay?
She’d never relied on anyone in her life. Not for safety. Or for love.
“Adriana Bennett, the President’s daughter-in-law. We hang out.” She hoped she didn’t get Adriana in trouble. It was the last thing she wanted for one of her only friends in the city.
He immediately released her and stepped back like she was literally too hot to handle. Eyes moved to the floor. Betrayal cutting across his face.
“She didn’t tell Knox. I didn’t want anyone knowing I was in town. Not yet.” She wet her lips, drawing strength to continue, even though there were more pressing matters to deal with. “We bumped into each other when I moved here. I asked her not to tell anyone about me.”
That had his attention. His light green eyes found her face, stopping on her lips before slowly skating over her features. “Why not?” He inched closer, his chest lifting with a deep breath.
“I-I don’t know.” Yes, I do.
“Yes, you do.” So, he was an Avenger and a mind reader. Since when was she so easy to read? “Anastasia.” There it was again. The swarm of butterflies taking flight in her stomach. The way he said her name, allowing each letter to somehow take form, to stand on its own, lust entangled in his tone.
Her hand went to the counter. Now she was the one bracing for impact.
“Why were you following me? Who hired you?” They had no time to talk about anything else.
“Why were you breaking into your section chief’s house?” he countered, then reached for the side of his head and applied light pressure with the heel of his hand over part of his hat and hair. She hadn’t noticed before, but did he get hurt?
She closed the space between them and lifted his hat. His hair was short in the back, a touch longer on the top, and closely cut at the sides. But there was a definite knot in the back of his head. A bump near his temple, too. “What happened to you? Was this from tonight?”
“Nah, the back of my head was much worse on Saturday. But the cocksucker tonight whacked me with the butt of his gun.” He faced her and deftly but gently snatched her wrist. He removed his hat from her hand, set it back on his head, and let go of her.
“I don’t normally let a guy get the drop on me, but my balance has been a touch off since I hit my head this weekend. ”
“Thought you were at a bachelor party.”
“My kind of party involves guns.” He winked and secured his hat back on. “Even bachelor parties.”
“Of course.”
“I may have gotten a concussion on Saturday. Threw up after hitting my head. That usually happens to me after a concussion, so I don’t know. It’s not important.”
“And how many concussions have you had over the years?”
“Ones that were confirmed?” He smiled. A wicked grin that would’ve had her panties growing wet if she weren’t already so damp from sweat to know the difference.
“Yeah, a tough Teamguy like you probably doesn’t see a doctor unless forced, am I right?”
“You may be right, but I don’t need some doctor blowing sunshine up my ass.”
“You think a doctor would really do that . . . give you good news just so you could operate?”
Oh, sarcasm. Of course, he knew a doctor would yell at him.
She’d worked with veterans during grad school. The psychological effects and post-traumatic stress of war coupled with physical injuries—not a good combination. What if he didn’t wake up one day? Or he began forgetting things? “You should see a doctor.”
“Bottom line, you can’t talk about why you were at that house,” he said, ignoring her worries, “and I can’t talk about it either. So, I’m not sure what we’re even doing standing here right now, sugar.”
Sugar? Why did that not irritate her like it would normally? “Good, so we’re agreed. You’ll be leaving.” She pointed toward the hallway. “Thanks for the save. Maybe I’ll see you around in another nine or so months? Or better yet, never.” Maybe she was being sarcastic now, too. Or just plain mean.
“Considering you were undressing me with your eyes back in the kitchen, I assume you don’t think that I actually believe you mean that, now do ya?”
She could feel the flustery blush racing over her body.
Nerve endings on fire. This was new. “I was attacked tonight. My boss is MIA. My life might be in danger.” She reminded herself the missing sources weren’t public knowledge yet, so she kept her mouth closed.
“I have a lot going on. I panic-clean. I don’t have panic-sex. ”
“Well, maybe that should be a thing.” A.J.’s dark lashes fluttered a few times. Men shouldn’t be blessed with lashes like those, damn it. “Wait . . . your life may be in danger?” he asked, just realizing what else she’d said.
“I’m FBI. Clearly, you’re familiar with my division since you were outside my boss’s house, so you know my job can be dangerous,” she said, attempting to dodge any more questions on the matter.
“Anastasia.”
“Ana, remember?”
“Ana.” The sound of him saying her name, deep and gravelly, unveiled a strange feeling in her chest. It was probably due to the fear she’d been resisting giving in to, though.
Surely the agents at the FBI would turn on her once she left town, once she went off-the-grid.
The backup plan was a hard pill to swallow.
It would most likely make her appear guilty given what was going on, but there was no other way.
The FBI could find the missing sources . . . she had another mission.
“Do you have any idea who the guy at the house was?” he asked, his voice softer this time.
“Colored contacts. Deepened his voice when talking. Mask and gloves. All black clothes.” Didn’t feel like he wanted to hurt me.
“And why’d you break in?” He’d folded his arms so only half of his tattoo on the inside of his arm was visible. He wore a military-looking watch with a thick, black band next to it, and she was unable to remove her eyes from it for some reason.
“I didn’t break in. I had a key.”
“Then why worry about the cameras?”
“I can’t tell you anything, especially without knowing what you were doing there.” Her eyes zipped back to his face. “It’s complicated,” she added, feeling a bit guilty since the man had helped her out of a major jam. “But maybe it’s time we go separate ways since we’re both closed books.”
“How can I leave you after someone attacked you tonight?”
“It was a wrong-place, wrong-time situation. No one sought me out.” Only you, apparently.
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” A.J. stepped closer, and she walked backward into the coffee table.
“Were you hired to spy on FBI agents? Are you being paid to follow me?” It was the only thing that made sense.
Someone in the upper echelon of the FBI must have thought there was a leak and didn’t want to spook anyone on Ana’s team, so they outsourced for help.
Winters hadn’t believed in their innocence earlier as he’d claimed.
But the Bureau wouldn’t outsource this to a civilian company. No, it had to be someone within the government with high-level security clearance. And that meant her theories about A.J. were correct. Scott & Scott Securities was a front for a covert team of operatives.
“Why would a man like me be hired to follow an FBI agent?”
She reached for his ball cap once again and removed it, hoping he didn’t seize her wrist this time and feel the increase of her pulse, but she needed to see his entire face to read him better. “Because you and I both know what you really do.”
He leaned in, the smell of mint on his breath—when did he pop a mint in his mouth?—and his eyes drilled straight into her. “And what is that?”
She lifted her chin and moved in closer, putting them almost nose to nose. “You’re an Avenger, remember?”