“Thanks.” She stood in the hall, not sure what to do next. When it was clear he was waiting for her to make the next move, she motioned for him to follow her into the living room.
Kyle stopped in front of her TV, barely inside her living room, acting as if he was leery of being there. But here he was.
“What are you doing here?” she finally managed to get the words out.
“I’m being transferred to D.C. for a special assignment, and I was surprised to learn you were at Headquarters now.” When his hands went to the back pockets of his jeans, Ana took notice of the rest of his clothing. A navy button-down shirt left untucked. Brown loafers. Those were new. He’d never been the loafer type.
There were a few streaks of silver at the sides of his inky black hair. Same as before, but it was longer than when they were married. He was sporting a beard now, too. He looked different. On edge and somehow relaxed at the same time. It was all very strange.
Ana was so caught up in trying to get a read on him she’d barely heard his words. “Wait, what?” Two more steps had her close enough to smell his cologne now. Sharp. More distinct. Another difference. Who was this man?
Kyle’s hands left his pockets. One patted the side of his leg. The familiar rattle of one too many keys on his chain in his left pocket. He had something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to begin. “I’m worried about you.” A lock of black hair swept over his forehead, and he pushed it away from his face.
“You’re here in D.C., and now you’re in my place. Who told you I was here and gave you my address?”
“I’m here. That’s all that matters. We’re back in the same zip code again. Not sure how long I’ll be here, but I wanted to reach out. To see you.” After another push of his fingers through his thick hair, his attention turned to her wineglass on the table.
Her arms went across her chest, covering the letters, FBI. It was her favorite T-shirt, given to her at Quantico when she attended the academy six years ago.
Kyle lifted a hand to his beard. Traces of silver and gray there as well. Each stroke drew his eyes over different parts of her body like an examination.
One of the downsides to being married to another FBI agent? They were constantly reading each other. Interpreting absolutely every move, every word, every change.
She snatched her drink, desperate for something to occupy her hands and smooth the tension she felt with her ex standing in her new place.
“I know I was mad when you wouldn’t move with me, but you were right not to follow.” He angled his head, his words taking her by surprise. “I should never have accepted the job without discussing it with you first.”
She took a small step back, lowering the glass to her side. “It was about more than that, and you know it.”
Your heart is cold. Dead. The words he’d spoken while they were still married would have hurt if she hadn’t believed them to be, in part, true. She hadn’t known her heart still worked until she’d encountered A.J., and it began to thump so loudly, desperately seeking to be heard. She was never one to blindly follow her emotions, though.
“The idea of you being here alone in this city, and in your new line of work, it’s not—”
“You don’t think I can handle it?” Kyle could talk all day long about her walls, her barriers, her inability to truly love . . . but question her ability at the job? No, she drew the line there.
“You hate this city, just as much as you hate Budapest, for reasons you never told me,” he said, that same flare of frustration with her igniting. “I’m just surprised you took the job and moved here. And you’re alone now.”
Her tongue hit the roof of her mouth.
Memories she didn’t want to deal with surged.
“I’m not alone. I have friends here.” A friend. “And I’m an FBI agent. I can handle myself and you know that.”
“I’m worried.” He inched closer.
Ana turned, unable to look him in the eyes any longer. They’d been married for three years, but she’d never shared the dark secrets of her past. He’d tried many times to wrangle the truth out of her, using his tradecraft, but then he gave up. Took an assignment abroad. It was her secret to bear. But now . . . well, the story of her life that could’ve been a true crime series on Netflix might get a new ending. If she did her job right.
Ana set her glass back down, feeling a chill begin to settle in her bones.
She needed to clean. To do something. Get her apartment in order.
Everything would be okay if she only . . . “You should go. You shouldn’t have shown up like this.”
His jaw tightened beneath the beard. “I just wanted to be here for you. Help you.” He paused. “Let me back in your life, even if it’s just as a friend.”
Even as a friend?
“We’ll talk Monday, I guess,” he said, knowing her well enough to assume she wasn’t prepared to respond to his words. “You’ll be at the office and not traveling with Porter?”
She did her best not to flinch at the mention of her section chief’s name. Of course, Kyle would know his name. But how did he know Porter was going to be traveling? “Yeah, I’ll be at Headquarters Monday,” she said, still a bit confused.
He can’t know about . . . no, it’s not possible. Why would Kyle talk to Porter? Why wouldn’t Porter tell her he’d spoken to her ex? And hell, what’d Porter tell Kyle as to why a man of his position was going out into the field?
Too many questions railroaded her mind, and she wasn’t sure if it was the wine, the lack of sleep from pulling an all-nighter last night at work, or her ex’s presence, but she was growing dizzy.
She’d been working nonstop since last Wednesday. Porter had forced her to head home and try and relax that morning. He told her to remain calm. Not panic. He said it would all be okay. But she had needed to do something, to finally unpack and clean her rental, and Adriana had offered to help.
“You know Porter?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“No, but I was at the office today, expecting you’d be there, and, well, you know as well as anyone, when a section chief decides to leave D.C. to go out into the field, news travels fast. People were talking.” Kyle knew something. She could feel it, but he was waiting to see if she’d divulge. “Everyone in your unit is fairly tight-lipped about why he left, though.”
Because we’ve been ordered to be close-mouthed about it.
“Lock up when I go,” he said after a quiet moment passed between them.
She followed him to the door. “Kyle?”
His back was to her, a hand resting over the doorknob. “Yeah?” He glimpsed her from over his shoulder.
She lightly shook her head, unable to get the words out. His mouth tightened, and he returned his focus to the task of leaving.
He stepped outside and said, “Watch your back. D.C. isn’t the safest of places.” And then he left without looking back.
She locked up once he was gone and brought her forehead to the door, palms on each side as she grappled with the unexpected news her ex was in town, and from the sounds of it, they might have to work together.
The generic ringtone from her cell had her backing away from the door and tracking her personal cell to the kitchen.