Chasing Daylight - Brittney Sahin Page 0,90

touch of sweetness in a moment of brutal truth.

“Other than Kyle, does anyone believe I’m innocent?” she asked again since he hadn’t answered her the first time. “What about Deputy Winters or my unit chief? They didn’t seem to have a clue about my UC assignment based on our last meeting yesterday.”

And wow, yesterday was lightyears ago. Today had been one long but surprising day that’d started on the road at sunrise and ended with an orgasm at sunset.

“Winters didn’t even want to entertain the idea of the existence of the ledger yesterday, so I don’t know what that might mean,” she added. “And Gray was in agreement with him.”

“Well, you can rule out Gray. He definitely wasn’t aware of your history before tonight, but he’s solid.” Ana had a feeling A.J. knew something he couldn’t share, and as honest as she’d been with him and his team, it stung a touch, but she understood the nature of classified work. Just because she’d broken her oath to speak the truth to A.J. didn’t mean he’d be able to do the same with her. “But several in your unit have turned on you. With the Volkovs returning five months ago, you starting work at HQ shortly after, and then you insisting on personally dealing with both Volkov sources . . . it paints a shitty picture.”

“Whoever leads the charge against me the most vehemently—”

“Is probably the real leak,” A.J. finished for her.

Her attention wandered to the three framed photos stacked on the hallway floor just outside the door, a hammer resting on top. She kept her focus fixed on that red-handled hammer, a pounding sensation driving into the side of her head as if the hammer were hitting her.

“Anastasia.” And there it was, his concern from earlier coming back into play. She heard it in his voice, in the way he’d dragged out her full name. He was about to lay something on her he knew she wouldn’t want to hear. “The idea of you going anywhere near the Volkovs still makes me a bit crazy. I don’t trust they won’t kill you the second they have what they want.” His husky tone had her drawing in a deep breath and standing. She took a step closer to where he remained in the doorway. “The FBI gave you a new identity for a reason, to keep you safe.”

“I completely understand that this entire situation makes you uncomfortable. You’re taking a lot of risks, and I know you hate this.” She tensed when he finally stepped into the room, his gaze focused intently on her.

“I can’t help but hate anything that involves putting you in danger,” he answered honestly.

The throbbing in her temples kicked up as a concerning thought came to mind. “But you won’t try and stop me from meeting with them, right?”

A.J. crossed the room to get to her and cradled her face between strong hands, no hesitation whatsoever. His thumb moved in small circles on her right cheek. His light green eyes thinned. “Whatever you need from me, I’m here for you. No matter what,” he said softly.

“Even if it means crossing lines?”

A small smile graced his lips while his fingers threaded her hair. “My job is all about crossing those lines, don’t you worry.”

Was he for real? “And for some reason”—she leaned in closer, her hand going to his hip—“I’m not worried.”

“We do have a rule on my team. No solo ops. People die when they’re on their own, and I know you have Porter, but you’ve got me, too. Okay?” He continued to swirl the pad of his thumb over her skin, his touch and words lighting up everything inside of her.

“I never set out to be a Lone Ranger.”

“Wrong state,” he teased and brought his mouth closer to hers. “I really want to kiss you right now, but if I do—”

“You won’t be able to stop.” Her eyes fell shut as reason and responsibility nearly faded from her thoughts. But then a question whirred to mind. “Have you really not been with a woman since you saw me in Charlotte?” she murmured curiously.

His mouth closed in on the side of her neck, and he worked his lips to her ear. Her hands slid up the sides of his torso, over his tee as she braced him for support.

“Did I confess that on my voicemail?” he asked, the depth of his Southern voice hitting her like a soft-cushioned arrow right to the heart.

“Yes,” she croaked out when

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