Actually, that wasn't what hurt the most. What really stung was that she'd thought she knew him. She'd felt connected to him. In fact, she'd felt like she was falling in love with him. But she'd been falling in love with a person who wasn't real. She should have seen through his stories. But once again, she'd been too trusting, too naïve.
She let out an angry sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and while that had been a good thing, now the exhaustion was catching up to her.
"Are you thinking you should have seen through my cover?" Jax asked.
She gave him an annoyed look. "I don't like your mind-reading skills."
"Your big sigh gave you away."
"There were signs, but I kept buying your excuses. The first time you ditched me at the club, I wanted to believe you were just worried about your job."
"I was worried about my job."
"Not in the way I thought. You couldn't really tell me anything about your acting career, either. Even when we drove on the lot this morning, it felt like you'd never been by a sound stage before. But I just let it go. Because…"
"Why?" he asked. "Why did you let it go?"
She met his gaze. "I liked you."
"Past tense, huh?"
"Doesn't it have to be? This wasn't going anywhere for you anyway, was it?" There was a tiny smidgeon of hope in her soul that he'd refute that assertion. But he didn't.
"I wasn't thinking too far in the future," he admitted.
"Which makes sense, because we met three days ago."
"It feels a lot longer than that. And I liked you, too, Maya. In fact, I still do."
"It doesn't matter. This isn't about…that."
"No, it's not about that, but I need you to understand that we're both in a dangerous situation. You may no longer be able to trust me personally, but I hope you can put your trust in my abilities as an FBI agent. If I need you to do something, and I don't have time to explain why, I need you to do it, no questions asked, no stalling. It could literally mean life or death. After what happened last night, I hope you realize I'm not exaggerating."
"I'm very aware of the danger we're in. I do appreciate that you might have a better idea of how to keep us safe than I do, so I'll follow your lead. That's all I can promise."
"Fair enough."
"But I have one question before we get to your parents' house… Is it okay that I call them your parents?"
"Yes. They asked me to call them Mom and Dad when I was young. They said it would be too confusing if I used their first names. It felt wrong at first, but I got used to it." He glanced over at her. "I know what you're thinking. That's another red flag. They didn't want people to know I wasn't their biological kid."
"Was it a secret, though?"
"Not really. I told my friends they adopted me, but I never got into the details. I didn't want to talk about my real parents, and no one else did, either." He paused. "You said you had one question…"
"When I asked you the other day if they supported your acting career, you said yes. Do they think you're an actor?"
"No. And I didn't say yes; I said they supported me in anything I wanted to do. They did."
"So they know what you do for a living. And yet they still didn't ever tell you anything about the weekend your parents left you with them."
"No, and I told them I was researching their accident when I joined the FBI. They just asked me to let them know if I found out anything, which I didn't."
"Which could mean there was nothing to find out."
"Maybe," he conceded. "But my gut tells me there is a lot to find out."
He took the next exit off the freeway, and she sat up a little straighter as he drove into the heart of Pasadena, a suburb of Los Angeles. His parents lived in a neighborhood of mostly one-story homes with grassy lawns and big trees.
"Who else lives here?" she asked. "You said you had sisters. Will they be in the house?"
"No. They don't live here. One is in San Francisco; the other is in Austin, Texas. It's just Rick and Carol now."
"That might make it easier. They won't have to keep up a pretense in front