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He stared at the money as if it was tainted. “I don’t want this,” he said, holding it out. “Please. Take it.”
Instead, she looked up at him, frowning. “Why not? Micheline is your mother. I don’t feel comfortable accepting her money.”
“Neither do I.” Once more, he thrust the money toward her, his jaw clenched. Again, she ignored it.
With a grimace, he tossed it on the floor. Horrified, she eyed it, torn between not wanting to be wasteful but also not wanting to let him win. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore, so she retrieved it and jammed the bill into her pocket.
“Let me show you to your room.” She turned and walked away, not bothering to look behind her to make sure he followed. When she reached the second-floor hallway, she headed toward her own quarters, stopping right outside the door. Checking the room number on the card key, she saw he was indeed directly across from her. This knowledge caused her stomach to swoop alarmingly, since under any other circumstances she’d be teasing him about sneaking into each other’s room.
“Here you are.” She used the card to unlock and open the door. “I’m right there,” she said, pointing at her door. “Knock if you need anything.”
Following her inside the compact space, he looked around with interest. “Not bad. Not what I expected, but still...”
She dropped the card key and the hundred-dollar bill on the dresser. “I’ll see you later,” she said, her voice as stiff as her spine.
“Wait.” He caught her arm. She tensed, not sure what she expected but hoping she was wrong. When she glared at him, he released her. “Sorry. But please, can we talk a minute?”
“Sure.” Aware crossing her arms would be a defensive posture, she kept her hands down at her sides. “If you want to know where I want to go for dinner, it doesn’t matter. I’ll eat whatever you’re in the mood for.”
“I don’t want to talk about dinner.” He gestured to the room’s lone chair. Once she’d taken a seat, he sat down on the edge of his bed. Elbows on his knees, he studied her.
“Why are you here?” he asked, the intensity in his voice matching his eyes. “Leigh, I can understand. But you? You seem like a levelheaded person, someone who considers her options carefully and deliberately before making a choice. What made you choose to join the AAG?”
Her cover story stuck in her throat. For whatever reason, she couldn’t lie to him, this handsome man she’d just met and barely knew. Something about him... He appeared to be the first genuine person she’d met since arriving at AAG, though she really didn’t know enough about him to reach that kind of a conclusion. She settled for a shrug instead of telling her story.
“You know this is a cult, right?” he continued, his expression fierce.
Making sure to act alarmed, she made a sound of indignation. “Do you truly expect me to sit here while you say bad things about AAG? Your mother is practically a saint.”
He laughed at that. “You clearly don’t know her, then.” He held up both hands in a defensive posture as she deepened her frown. “Never mind, Fiona. I didn’t mean to upset you. Forget I said anything.”
She nodded, careful and cautious. Still smiling, he looked at her, rugged and masculine and the sexiest damn cowboy she’d ever met.
“I’m looking forward to having dinner with you later.” He jumped to his feet, dusting his palms off on the front of his jeans. “But right now, I’m going to get my bag from my truck, shower and unpack, and maybe even take a quick nap.”
Considering him, she stood. Ignoring the insistent tug of attraction she felt when she looked at him, she nodded. “I’ll see you later, then,” she said, her voice clear and steady.
He followed her toward the main entrance. As she turned to walk away, he called her name. “Fiona.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes?”
“Seven tonight?”
“I’ll be ready,” she said, her heart racing for absolutely no reason whatsoever.
Back in her room, she shook her head, making a face at herself in her mirror. Now was definitely not the time to be acting like a teenager with a crush. Especially since putting her and Jake together was something Micheline wanted to do. That alone made Fiona want to do the opposite.
In her five years working in the Phoenix FBI office, she’d been jockeying for a prime undercover operation like this one. She’d known in advance of coming here what kind of woman led the organization. She’d spent hours prepping, learning everything she could about Micheline Anderson and the AAG. Naturally, she’d also read quite a bit of material on Micheline’s estranged son, who actually was Ace Colton.
For all intents and purposes, Jake appeared to be the polar opposite of the woman he apparently still believed to be his mother. As if when he’d left home, he’d asked himself in every situation, what would Micheline do, and then done the exact opposite. Of course, that made sense. Jake wasn’t Micheline’s biological son.
He led a quiet life, running a small cattle ranch north of here. At first, Fiona had suspected Micheline had asked him to visit with the intention of bleeding him dry, but judging from bank records, every penny Jake made went right back into his ranch. He wasn’t exactly flush with cash.
Unlike the head of AAG, who spent money as if there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. Which explained why Micheline was behind in her personal income taxes and appeared to be struggling to juggle all her bills. She booked speaking engagements and even organized a few crowd-funding events, lining her pockets with donations, fees and contributions from people desperate to live their best lives. Despite that, she managed to stay cash poor.
Fiona planned to take her down. She wouldn’t rush, she’d be careful, her methods above reproach. But she would stop her. The money laundering was bad enough, but her s
ome of her investment schemes had bilked a lot of people out of cash.
