Chasing Daylight - Brittney Sahin Page 0,40

How could she trust him when she had so many questions? But for some insane reason, she did.

She pulled her hand free and walked right out that door without a second thought.

Chapter Nine

Ana blinked a few times in surprise at the knock on her door and the accompanying voice. “It’s me.”

A.J. had said the same back in Porter’s house as if they were already so familiar with each other that “it’s me” held no question. But she had recognized his voice back there, same as now. Even through the door.

There was no hesitation when she moved to let him in. No question in her mind. Cast under some type of spell or something.

His mouth was set in a tight line. Worry in his green eyes. “I erased the footage from inside the home. And my people are working on wiping the recordings sent to the security company.” He opened his palm to reveal the bullet and shell casing, the remaining evidence that put her inside Porter’s house that night.

She mouthed thank you, a bit shocked she was letting him break the law for her, and that he was so willing to do so.

A.J. closed and locked up behind her, and she went down the hall into her kitchen, almost in a daze, assuming A.J. would follow.

The takeout Kyle had brought over for dinner was still on the kitchen counter, sitting there like a Japanese sushi roll-scented air freshener. The aroma was enhanced by the fact her A/C had stopped working that morning. Good thing she didn’t have a cat, the smell would drive the poor thing crazy.

She began disposing of the food, not sure how to have a conversation with A.J. right now about what happened, and why he was even there.

Hell, she’d never asked A.J. how he’d known where she lived.

She wasn’t listed, but if he’d been outside Porter’s, well, he must have followed her from her rental to her section chief’s home.

Her day, her night, her everything was spinning out of control, and she didn’t deal well with out of control.

She quickly went through her mental SGW—Shit Gone Wrong—list for the evening: a panicked message from her boss, an empty safe, the discharge of her sidearm, and the gorgeous, unforgettable man who had shown up for the (sort of) save. Although, she probably shouldn’t put A.J. on the SGW list.

But despite three of the things on that list closing in on DEFCON 1 status, disposing of the sushi as if it were a dead body was suddenly of paramount importance.

Ana grabbed her spray bottle and paper towels and began scrubbing down her counters where the brown bag had sat for hours.

“Cleaning, huh?” he asked. “Pretty vigorously, I might add.”

She kept scrubbing, the paper towel tearing from her attempt at getting a stain off the counter that’d probably been there since the ’80s. The once-white appliances were now a dingy yellow. And if A.J. stretched his arms open, he’d be able to touch both counters.

It was old. In desperate need of upgrades that she’d never see since it was a rental. But places in the city were expensive, and she was still paying off her ridiculously large student loan debt every month and couldn’t be choosy about her new place to live. Plus, it’d been conveniently located near her boss.

She kept scrubbing, and given the heat, she was beginning to sweat between her boobs. At the feel of a hand on her shoulder, she flinched and faced him, letting go of the paper towel.

He raised both palms in the air in surrender when she pointed the spray bottle at him. “You, um, okay?” His eyes were soft. Thoughtful. The kind of warmth that flowed from a man you might be able to trust with all your heart.

“I panic-clean. One of my many flaws.”

He leaned his hip against the counter and folded his arms, the black fabric taut over his biceps. His legs were encased in dark denim paired with black sneakers.

He was standing close. And he smelled of manly soap and fresh laundry. The scent wafted through the air and hit her nose, knocking out the odor of disinfectant.

Slightly drunk on the essence of all that was A.J., Ana ignored proper etiquette and gave him a thorough once-over. Discreetly, of course. He was broad-shouldered. Fit, but not overly muscular. She spied one tattoo on the inside of his forearm. A Navy SEAL Trident with the script, Earn Your Trident Every Day, beneath. His beard was trimmed. About three to

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