was willing and ready to support her. How’d this night ever come to be?
“There is at least one spy within my unit, and it’s me.”
A.J. swallowed, and his hands shifted out of his pockets at her news, but he was doing his best not to react too quickly. To trust her. And it had her heart doubling in size.
“I’m undercover,” she added quickly since she’d failed to mention that crucial fact straight away, too wrapped up with concerns about how A.J. might react. She was so accustomed to carrying around such an enormous amount of guilt about her parents that she’d almost convinced herself she was as guilty as they were, therefore deserving of A.J.’s anger. “I was brought to D.C. with the sole purpose of infiltrating the Volkov organization.”
His brows relaxed. “Okay,” he said with a nod, followed by one more hard swallow.
“My parents were shot and killed by the FBI when I was sixteen.” She held back her tears this time. “It was then that I discovered not only had they been professional con artists my entire life, but they were also Russian spies.” Her eyes fell to the wood plank boards. “I never knew my real last name was Chernyshevsky, or that my parents had moved to the U.S. in their twenties from Moscow.”
When she peered up, A.J.’s focus was riveted to her. There was no pity in his eyes. Nor was there disgust. It was . . . well, it reminded her of how her parents had often looked at her, whenever she allowed herself to think of the good memories, that is. It was a look of unconditional love. Compassion.
“The Feds’ explanation made sense about my parents once I took the time to reexamine my life after they died. The constant moving and name changes they had said were part of new adventures . . .”
A.J. shifted on his feet and put his hands back into his pockets, looking uncomfortable and unsure what to do or how to stand given her news. It wasn’t exactly Southern porch-swing conversation. “Why’d they get shot?” he asked, his voice low. “How’d it happen?”
“We were living in D.C. at the time,” she began, drawing her hand back over her stomach in hopes to quell the nervous, gnawing pain there. “We’d been out of the country for my sixteenth birthday, and as silly as this sounds, all I had wanted was to go see a movie as my present. To go out and do something normal teenagers did. The Da Vinci Code had recently been released, and I begged to go when we got home. My parents agreed to a late showing.” Her mouth tightened as she tried to work through the memory without her tone wavering too much from emotion. “I had dropped my new cell phone in the theater, and they waited for me out front while I went to get it.” She pressed her forearm even tighter against her abdomen. “I was just passing the concession stand, the smell of fresh popcorn in the air, and at first, I didn’t notice the gunshots outside because the popcorn machines were working at full force.”
Her eyes fell closed as she relived the moment as if she were sixteen again and not thirty-one.
“When I opened the door to go outside, people were screaming, and a sea of blue—cops and FBI agents—flooded the sidewalk out front. It was disorienting, and I just wanted to find my parents. They’d keep me safe.” Her breath hitched. “They always kept me so safe.”
Her parents had been criminals. Spies and imposters. And worst of all, traitors. But they’d loved her. And it killed her that she still loved them, even knowing the truth. She wasn’t supposed to, but . . .
“But they were the ones who’d been shot. Weapons were on the ground near my parents’ outstretched hands. The agents blocked off where they lay. Had to keep the crime scene intact, they said.” She slowly opened her eyes to find A.J. crouched before her. He set a hand on her knee and began sweeping small circles over her skin. “I pushed through the officers guarding their bodies to try and get to them. The officers had to practically tackle me to the ground because I refused to give up.”
“Jesus, Ana. I’m so sorry.” His free hand cupped his mouth.
“They said my parents resisted arrest. That they were armed and opened fire on the agents first. I-I just couldn’t believe it. They had their quirks,