laid out more of the story behind my parents’ death.” Ana took a moment, most likely composing her thoughts. Cataloging them in the proper order that made the most sense to share. “Shortly before my parents died, Porter said he arrested a Volkov agent. The man was offered a cushy deal in exchange for intel, and the man claimed both the ledger and key had been stolen from Adrik three months before, which Adrik adamantly denied.”
“Because if the ledger and its key were real and the only thing keeping the SVR in check, Adrik wouldn’t be fool enough to let anyone know they were no longer in his hands.” That made sense, and as much as he hadn’t really believed in the book before, well, he believed in Ana, so . . .
“Then rumors began floating around that a redheaded female Volkov agent and her husband were the ones who somehow stole the ledger and key from Adrik. Porter’s source offered multiple stories as to how the couple actually stole the items, but all that mattered was the items were out of Adrik’s hands.” She grimaced, and he knew where her mind was going.
Visions of what Ana’s mother may have looked like came to mind. The golden-red hair. Same green eyes, too, he imagined.
He couldn’t stomach the idea of anything or anyone ever coming between him and his family. He hated Ana had to handle all of this, and without ever feeling as though she could share with the man she’d married . . .
He forced his focus back to her. “You think your parents are the ones who stole the ledger and key from Adrik?”
“It fits with the timeline. Our trip to Hungary over my birthday wasn’t my first time there. We’d also attended another party at the labyrinth around the time the ledger and key went missing,” Ana responded. “And my mother had distinctively red hair.”
“Okay, let’s say they did. The more important question is, why?”
“Best guess? Greed.” She let the admission hang in the air, clearly frustrated for not being able to solve the puzzle.
“So, how’d they do it?” A.J. mused.
“Think about what the Feds told me my parents did before they were activated to spy for the Volkovs.”
“Con artists. Thieves.” He wished they could go back to her licking ice cream from the spoon and his dick stirring—no, saluting her—in his pants.
She nodded, her brows scrunched tight. “My dad was practically an illusionist. Made things appear and disappear literally before my eyes all the time. His magic tricks were my favorite memories of him.” She closed her eyes for a second as if scolding herself for allowing any happy thoughts to remain in her mind.
“Both the Volkovs and the SVR would have reason to kill your parents if they discovered they stole them.”
She sat taller, her spine going straight, outwardly relieved to be sharing everything even if it was a painful subject matter. “While my parents and I were at the theater, our house was ransacked. Porter told me when the team showed up to my home, the place was already destroyed.”
And damn did he admire her strength. She was opening up to him in a way that, only yesterday, he hadn’t been sure was possible. “Would your parents have kept the ledger and key at their house?” That didn’t seem all that smart to do with such valuable items. Not even in a safe, well, unless someone wanted them found.
“Maybe not the originals, but I think whoever tore apart our home believed they’d found them. Or at least one of them,” she answered, a mirror to his thoughts.
She tucked her lips inward for a moment, and for the briefest of guilty seconds, he wanted to suck that lip. Tease it between his teeth. If only he could make all her pain and suffering go away with a kiss. If only life were so easy.
“My parents had no qualms about stealing, so they certainly wouldn’t hesitate about making copies of the ledger and key. The Feds said my parents used to counterfeit everything. Obviously, I didn’t know the paintings I saw come and go from our house over the years were fakes, but thinking back, they couldn’t have been real. Van Goghs. Picassos.” Her tight, nervous expression loosened a touch. “What if my parents stole the ledger and key while we were in Hungary, three months before their death, just like Porter’s source had claimed? They could have hired the forger they always worked with to