Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The FBI’s Most Wanted list. Despite Ana’s claim that her affinity for lists soothed her soul, A.J. was damn certain Beckett’s news she was now on that list would prove to have the polar opposite effect. Anastasia Chernyshevsky was officially in deep shit. And so was A.J.
A.J. held his palms up, phone clutched in one hand, while he eyed his brother. “I can explain,” he blurted.
“How about you explain why a wanted fugitive spent the day at our house in the company of my daughter?” The vein at Beckett’s temple visibly throbbed.
“It’s my fault.” Ana rushed to stand as a buffer, her arms outstretched between him and his brother. “I’m so sorry.”
“She’s not a fugitive,” A.J. gritted out and sidestepped Ana. She didn’t deserve Beckett’s wrath.
“Her name and face are all over the national news.” Beckett angrily tossed a hand in the direction of the TV.
Ana whirled toward the television, a horrified expression on her face, then frantically grabbed the remote and was clicking through channels before A.J. had a chance to muster a response to his brother.
“I need to call my people.” He looked down at his phone like it might bite him. Which angry woman should he call first? There was an equal number of missed calls from both Harper and Jessica. “Can I explain after? Please, Beck, you know I’d never do anything to hurt the family.”
“And maybe you weren’t thinking with the right head.” Beckett removed his sheriff’s hat and tapped it alongside his thigh, eyes set on Ana as if she were an enemy of the nation, a traitor.
“Just one minute.” A.J.’s phone vibrated in his palm before he had a chance to make a call.
Beckett waved him off with his free hand and then rested it on the holster of his gun, appearing ready to break leather and pull out his Glock at a moment’s notice.
A.J. brought his phone to his ear, his gaze locked on Ana standing a few feet in front of the TV, her body one hard line. Arms crossed tight against her chest.
The same FBI photo of Ana from his case file was on screen, and he assumed the photo of a woman, with hair the exact color of Ana’s, standing beside a dark-haired man were her parents.
“Hello?” A.J. turned away from the room, eyes on the window, hoping his brother wouldn’t cuff Ana.
“What the hell, A.J.?” Harper hissed straight away. “Was your ringer off? We’ve been calling.”
“I know, I know. Ana’s made the news. And the wanted list,” he said, his heart breaking for Ana too much to turn and look at her again.
She’d known this was a risk when she took the assignment, but seeing her face on national news as an alleged Russian spy, her name dragged through the mud along with her parents’ . . . unimaginable.
“It’s more than that,” Harper said after a moment, her tone remaining businesslike despite the shit situation. “We tracked the identity of the Caymans account holder.”
“It’s Ana, right?” He suddenly had a horrible, aching pain in the pit of his stomach.
“We’ve been operating under the assumption the account was for Ivan, but this must be another setup,” Harper explained.
“And it surely can’t be a coincidence that within minutes of the FBI connecting Ana’s name to the account, the surveillance footage of her entering Porter’s house was leaked to the media, along with her real last name. ”
“Damn it.” He cursed again. And then again. “Whoever was in Porter’s house knows she’s undercover, but—”
“But they chose to be selective in the intel they leaked to the national news,” Harper added. “Which means they’re using her as a fall guy, and they forced Mendez’s hand to declare Ana a fugitive.”
“The timing of the release of both the video footage and Ana’s real last name only solidifies that someone at the Bureau has been moving pieces in place, maybe to put Ana right where they want her.
” Porter? His gut said not to trust the man.
And if Porter had anything to do with setting up Ana, the last thing he wanted was to use her as bait to draw out Ivan Smirnoff.
Well, assuming that’s who kidnapped the sources.
But based on intel, they were fairly certain The Huntsman was their guy.
“Anyone know about me? That Ana and I are together?”
“Aside from Kyle’s poor description of you to Ana’s unit, no,” Harper answered. “And speaking of Kyle, right after news broke about Ana, he was called back to Budapest.”
“Wait, what?” At the moment, A.J. was too out of sorts to process the significance of Kyle’s sudden return to Hungary. “Are we sending Owen to follow?”
“Admiral Chandler wants to wait and see what happens Friday at the safe house,” Harper replied.
At least the admiral was still on their side. “Maybe we should cancel the meet on Friday? Too many unknown variables.”
“No!” Ana exclaimed. “If I don’t show up, I’ll lose my chance with Anthony and to see if Porter is okay.”
“Can I, uh, call you back?” His shoulders slumped when his eyes connected with Beckett, now standing off to his side in a watchful stance, hat back on, hand still on his holster.
“Of course, but you need to pack up and leave ASAP. I’d rather you leave the rental vehicle there. Grant have something you can drive?” Harper asked.
“Yeah,” he said quickly, needing to de-escalate the tension in the room. “Call you soon.” He ended the call and stuck the phone back into his jeans pocket. “We’ll talk about Friday,” he said to Ana. “But first—”
“You need to tell me why I’m not handing the Russian spy over to the FBI.” Beckett and his straight-edge, no-bending-the-rules attitude, damn it. It had always been a source of contention between them over the years.
Ana faced the TV screen again, grabbed the remote, and turned it off. Probably a good idea. She didn’t need any reporters getting into her head, not after she was finally freeing herself of some of the guilt she’d held on to about her parents’ lives.
“She’s undercover, but things went sideways,” A.J. rushed out.
Beckett shook his head. “Trouble follows you everywhere you go, Alexander James.”
He didn’t need a lecture from his forty-year-old brother.
Beckett may have been older, by a mere two years, but he wasn’t A.J.
’s dad, though he often acted like it. “And you haven’t made any mistakes?
” he challenged, which was a low blow because he didn’t want to throw Beckett’s past in his face right now.
The man had his own demons. A.J. hung his head and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.
His brother wasn’t the enemy. “Can we start over? Ana’s not a threat to anyone in the family, and you must know I’d die before letting anything happen to my niece.
” How could Beckett ever think otherwise?
Beckett’s hand slipped from the holster and relaxed at his side, but just because he didn’t want to shoot him anymore, didn’t mean he didn’t want to throttle A.J. for bringing a “fugitive” to the ranch, innocent or not.
Ana snatched her bra and panties from the floor, apparently just noticing they were there, then held them behind her back and stood next to A.J.
“You two were here having sex at Grant’s house, meanwhile her face is on every major news outlet in the country.” Beckett curled his hands into fists at his sides. Tension gathering like an impending afternoon storm.
“Since when do you watch the news? You hate the media.” Not the point.
Focus. “We have to go. I’ll explain everything once it’s safe to do so.
Please, just don’t report we were here, not unless you want us getting killed.
” He hoped his brother would set aside his high-and-mighty moral compass if it meant keeping A.J. alive.
Beckett’s mouth opened, prepared to speak, but then he tightened his lips.
“I really am so sorry.” Ana stepped forward, keeping her undergarments hidden behind her back, and reached out with a tentative hand in Beckett’s direction, but Beckett walked back a step.
Beckett stared at her with such contempt it had A.J. wanting to knock his brother in the jaw for daring to hurt Ana’s feelings. “You never come near my family again. You got it? If I see you back here, I’ll be the first to bring you in,” Beckett warned, eyes pinned on Ana.
She blinked, then bowed her head and returned to stand beside A.J. in defeat.
“You’re out of line.” A.J. stepped in front of his brother, hating Beckett had two inches on him, and he had to look up to meet his eyes.
“You have no right to talk to her like that. You don’t know a damn thing about her aside from what bullshit the media has cooked up.
” Anger at Beckett radiated off A.J. in hot waves, and he nearly forgot the gravity of the situation.
But they needed to get out of Grant’s house ASAP.
“And maybe you shouldn’t come back, either. Skip Ella’s wedding.” Beckett angled his head, eyes thinning. “If you don’t have the good sense to know not to bring trouble to our town, to our home—regardless of your reasons—then you don’t belong here.”
A.J. was ready to lash out, but at the feel of Ana’s hand on his arm, he faced her, witnessing a plea in her eyes to back down.
“Get out of here. You have five minutes. If you ain’t gone by then, I’m calling the Bureau myself.” Beckett turned and started for the hallway but then paused and threw a look back at him over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking die,” he said in a softer voice. “Mom wouldn’t like that.”
Once Beckett was gone, A.J. dropped his face into his palm. “I’m sorry about him. He’s a good guy, but he doesn’t do gray areas. Very black and white.”
Her hand was on his bare chest when he opened his eyes. “It’s all my fault. I never wanted to come between you and your family. And I shouldn’t have involved you in my mess.”
He gently seized her wrist when she began to pull away. “You can’t mean that.”
“I don’t belong in this place. It was a fairy tale being here with you, but I don’t deserve a storybook ending.”