“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.