Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A.J. secured a bottle of red wine from Grant’s wine cellar—this occasion now called for something better than what he’d picked up from Piggly Wiggly—and left to find Ana.
I fell for the daughter of Russian spies, he thought in surprise while trekking up the steps.
He’d never had much luck with the Russians in the past, but Ana wasn’t her parents, and he refused to believe anything different. No blinders on his eyes.
A.J.’s thoughts kept spinning like he was on a Tilt-A-Whirl as he grabbed a corkscrew and two glasses, then searched for where Ana had disappeared.
He opened the back door and glimpsed Ana off in the distance down by the pond.
Wine in Solo cups it is, then. He paused mid-turn, his attention falling to the white rocking chair that had him squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
He’d swear it’d been moving. Losing my mind.
Letting the door shut behind him, he went back to the kitchen to exchange the fancy wineglasses for the red cups he saw stacked in the pantry when he’d been preparing for the chicken dinner.
He grabbed his cowboy hat and went back outside. One quick check of the chair to ensure it wasn’t moving—it wasn’t—and then he started down the steps and toward the path to get to Ana.
The man-made pond was fifty or so yards away from the house. About twenty-five by thirty in size. Probably stocked with some decent fish, knowing Grant.
Ana had her legs tucked beneath her bottom, looking every bit the gorgeous vision from his dreams. “You’re wearing your cowboy hat. Looks good on you.” She shielded her eyes with her hand and smiled while looking up at him.
His hands were full, so he couldn’t tip his hat like he normally would have. “We should get you one.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said, her voice softer. She was most likely worn out from crying.
He sat in front of her on the blanket and stretched his legs out before him, while setting the items on the blanket between them.
“Ménage à Trois.” Her French accent had his skin heating. “Love that brand of wine.”
“Moi aussi.” He responded, Me, too, in French, unable to stop himself even though he literally knew nothing of the wine other than it was red.
And no, he did not need to think about the other meaning of the brand’s name. Two women in bed with him. Ana would be way more than enough woman for him. God, did she have any idea how she made him feel with those green eyes on him? What her luscious lips did to him?
“Parles-tu Francais?”
And hot damn, that accent. He could listen to her speak French all day.
“Plus Portuguese, Spanish, and a little bit of everything when needed.” He smiled. “Russian, at times.” That merited a throat clear from him.
The mention of Russian was a reminder why they were about to binge on wine and ice cream. He sure as hell wished they were there for another reason. He was pretty sure he was still in shock from her revelation, too.
Seeing her crying on that porch, before she’d shared her story, had shattered any doubts in his mind about her that may have crept in when she announced her parents had been Volkov spies in Grant’s office.
Ana’s gaze fell to the red and white checkered blanket, her hand smoothing over it. The crickets were beginning to chirp even though it wasn’t yet dark. “I found this in the laundry room.”
“You sure you want to sit so close to the water. Not worried about gators?”
She immediately started to spring up, but he leaned forward and hooked an arm around her side to keep her in place.
“I’m kidding.” He unhanded her, reminding himself this wasn’t the time to finish the moment they’d shared in the kitchen earlier.
He eased back to a seated position, hands going to each side of his body.
“It’s rare to see a gator around here. We’re good. ”
Her eyes darted suspiciously in the direction of the dark water. “You’re sure?”
“Now would I do anything to put you in harm’s way?” he asked, laying on his accent a little thicker.
She hesitantly relaxed. “I brought some crackers to help soak up the ice cream and wine.”
He followed her eyes to the roll of Ritz. “Certainly an interesting meal to discuss Russian espionage over,” he said in a joking tone to try and keep the dark weight of the world from crushing them. “In what order should we ruin our stomachs?”
“I’d say crackers first, but we don’t want the ice cream to melt.” Her fingers went to her cleavage, a slight sheen of sweat there. “Like I already am.”
He bit down on his back teeth, doing his best to return his focus to her eyes instead of wondering how her breasts would feel in his palms. When her wet braid had soaked the spot right over her nipple earlier, it had taken all of his restraint to keep his hands to himself.
To not reach out and roll the peaked point between his thumb and forefinger.
“Ice cream,” he finally agreed. “Just don’t get yourself sticky since you hate that.”
“Right.” She offered him a spoon and removed the lid, then set the tub down within reach for the both of them.
He watched her take her first lick, then casually lowered his forearm to cover the bulge he anticipated might appear if she kept eating her ice cream like that. “So, Porter.”
Ana had been mid-dip into the tub of ice cream for another spoonful and froze at his words.
Mood killer, for sure.
She rested her spoon on top of the lid and shifted her legs, stretching them out in front of her. They were long for such a petite woman.
Ana nervously fidgeted with her braid. It was a “tell” about her mood he doubted she would’ve ever allowed before arriving in Alabama.
“My parents and I were in Budapest a week before they died, then after their death, the Volkovs were all but slaughtered or forced into hiding. It looked as though my parents—”
“Were at the center of everything?” he asked, and she nodded. “How’d the death of your parents trigger the collapse of the Volkovs? I mean, I thought the Volkov leader had created the ledger and key specifically to keep him protected from the SVR.”
“How much do you know about the ledger?” she asked, sounding a little surprised at his knowledge of the book.
“Enough.” More than he wanted to at this point. And the fact POTUS wanted his hands on it spoke volumes. “How about you tell me what you know?”
She worried her lip between her teeth, eyes on the blanket.
“When I was first questioned by the FBI after my parents died, they asked me if I’d ever seen a book.
And a code-breaker. I had no clue about it at the time.
” Ana’s green eyes focused once again on A.J.
“Not too long after that, the Feds who’d been working the Volkov case for years decided there was never a ledger.
I suppose since they couldn’t find any evidence of it.
Meanwhile, the Russians began killing off Volkov spies.
Not only to prevent the U.S. government from turning the Volkovs but because they were also worried Volkov spies would pin their work on the SVR.
The Russian administration wanted to prevent going down with the ship, so to speak.
And since the SVR had begun converting Americans into spies for money, they didn’t need the Volkovs anymore.
Well, this is what I learned after joining the FBI, at least.”
“But that’s not your theory, I take it?” He tipped the brim of his hat a touch lower, shielding his eyes to better see her.
“No, I believe the ledger and its key are real.”
“What makes you think that?”
“When Porter approached me four months ago about taking this UC job, he laid out more of the story behind my parents’ death.
” Ana took a moment, most likely composing her thoughts.
Cataloging them in the proper order that made the most sense to share.
“Shortly before my parents died, Porter said he arrested a Volkov agent. The man was offered a cushy deal in exchange for intel, and the man claimed both the ledger and key had been stolen from Adrik three months before, which Adrik adamantly denied.”
“Because if the ledger and its key were real and the only thing keeping the SVR in check, Adrik wouldn’t be fool enough to let anyone know they were no longer in his hands.” That made sense, and as much as he hadn’t really believed in the book before, well, he believed in Ana, so . . .
“Then rumors began floating around that a redheaded female Volkov agent and her husband were the ones who somehow stole the ledger and key from Adrik. Porter’s source offered multiple stories as to how the couple actually stole the items, but all that mattered was the items were out of Adrik’s hands.
” She grimaced, and he knew where her mind was going.
Visions of what Ana’s mother may have looked like came to mind. The golden-red hair. Same green eyes, too, he imagined.
He couldn’t stomach the idea of anything or anyone ever coming between him and his family. He hated Ana had to handle all of this, and without ever feeling as though she could share with the man she’d married . . .
He forced his focus back to her. “You think your parents are the ones who stole the ledger and key from Adrik?”
“It fits with the timeline. Our trip to Hungary over my birthday wasn’t my first time there. We’d also attended another party at the labyrinth around the time the ledger and key went missing,” Ana responded. “And my mother had distinctively red hair.”
“Okay, let’s say they did. The more important question is, why?”
“Best guess? Greed.” She let the admission hang in the air, clearly frustrated for not being able to solve the puzzle.
“So, how’d they do it?” A.J. mused.
“Think about what the Feds told me my parents did before they were activated to spy for the Volkovs.”
“Con artists. Thieves.” He wished they could go back to her licking ice cream from the spoon and his dick stirring—no, saluting her—in his pants.