“Think about this. In a hotel, we know where all the cameras are located. They’re visible. We know where not to go. In some small, off-the-road Bates Motel, they could have cameras hidden God knows where to catch shady shit happening.”
“Alfred Hitchcock, huh?”
“I mean, I’m not itching to be in what might feel like the set for a horror movie. Been there, done that. No desire to do that again. I hate creepy shit.”
A light laugh left her lips. “I’m sensing there’s a good story there.”
“The last one involved a Russian ghost town. It was no bueno.”
Russian? She tucked her chin down a little and cleared her throat, hoping he hadn’t noticed her slight gasp. How much did he already know about the Volkovs? About the ledger? Maybe talking wasn’t such a bad idea after all . . . get him talking and pry out more details from the Southern Teamguy who didn’t seem to have a problem opening up around her.
A.J. fidgeted with the controls of the radio. “Anyway, I have a credit card in a different name and lots of experience evading cameras and authority of all types. You’re in good hands.”
She had no doubt about that. Her instincts told her that even if this was all a bit insane. One minute she was at Headquarters with the Deputy AD of the FBI, then about to have dinner with her ex to try and get intel out of him . . . and the next thing she knew, A.J. was charging into Porter’s house prepared to throw down his life for her.
“Oh, love Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani,” she said when A.J. settled on a song, deciding to table the heavy work conversation.
When A.J. began softly singing the lyrics to the song, Nobody But You, Ana experienced what felt like a cataclysmic event inside her body. Of course, you can sing. Her nipples pebbled, probably poking through her lacy bra and tee. Thank God it was dark.
He stopped singing a few seconds later, and she felt his eyes on her. “I’m digging the fact you recognize the song . . .”
She glanced at him, catching his smile. He had straight white teeth, and one side of his mouth charmingly hiked up a bit more than the other. Yeah, A.J. had a great smile. One that could easily seduce her, even at a time when she was risking everything to get answers, to get to the truth. “I’m eclectic in my music tastes. Plus, I was a big Gwen Stefani fan growing up when she was in No Doubt.”
“Believe it or not, I am, too.” He leaned his seat back a touch and then set those strong, masculine hands of his on his jeaned legs.
“A Gwen fan or eclectic in your music taste?” she teased.
His brows pulled together, and his smile deepened before she tore her gaze back to the road, so they didn’t crash. “Definitely both.”
Why hadn’t she felt even an iota of whatever was happening to her now when she was with Kyle? A.J.’s mere presence had her body reacting, tightening with a need she hadn’t known was inside of her.
She’d been around good-looking men before. And a lot of them had hit on her. None had made such an impact.
Cold, dead heart. Why wasn’t it cold and dead around A.J.?
She’d enacted Porter’s backup plan, and it’d begun with a bust. But yeah, she was lusting after this man next to her. And the last thing she wanted was for a good man like A.J. to be collateral damage in her pursuit of truth and justice.
“Something about being on the highway late at night soothes my soul,” he said. “It’s calming.”
“Like, so calming if I’d let you drive, you would have fallen asleep behind the wheel?” She captured a quick look at him again, and his eyes were out the side window.
“Nah, I’ve got sleep discipline. I can stay awake when needed but fall asleep at the drop of a hat when allowed. We had no choice back in the Navy.” His tone was a touch heavier when he spoke this time, as if remembering someone or something from his past. “You get rack time whenever you can.”
“What makes the road calming, though?” Being on the road only reminded her of the past, of all her time traveling as a kid. Her few good memories had all been destroyed by the bad ones when she’d turned sixteen. Totally decimated.