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Pressing a palm over her hammering heart, she moved much more slowly to the balloon. She grabbed the string and carried the balloon into the living room, ready to tell off AJ.
Her gaze locked on his back where he stood at the window, phone to his ear. He spoke in a voice too low for her to make out over the pounding of her heart.
At the sound of her not-so-subtle entrance, he threw a look over his shoulder.
“That’s great. Thanks.” He abruptly ended the call. Pocketing his phone, he swung toward her.
When it came to wearing masks, he wasn’t the only one who could point fingers. The man’s expression was far too neutral. Blasé, even. He kept one hand in his front pocket as if guarding his phone.
What was he up to?
Annoyance shook her. What did she care? He was free to disappear for another three years without so much as a hint that he was still alive and she’d be glad to be rid of him.
She had her life—even if she now lived in shades of beige. She loved her work, the few good friends she had as well. Not to mention the dates she planned to go on as soon as she recovered.
She definitely wouldn’t be here with AJ playing nursemaid/guard dog.
His gaze flicked to the balloon in her hand. She unclamped her fingers from the string and it floated a few inches away.
“Everything okay?” His voice came out a little too gruff. Was it her imagination or was it tinged with guilt?
“Fine. Except this green creeper sneaked up on me and scared the shit out of me.” She sent it a glare and balled her hand into a fist, prepared to punch it toward AJ.
But she wasn’t really angry about the balloon, was she? She was angry with him—period. Especially now that she’d caught him being sneaky on the phone. He was still putting his goals first, even if they weren’t the same goals as his team. She knew what he’d done while on the run. Abubakar’s cell was like having thousands of fighter jets in the air, and AJ was acting like the air traffic controller, calling all the shots and going way above his call of duty.
She got that he was an alpha through and through. He was a freakin’warrior. But how could he ever be hers too?
He’d already proved once that he couldn’t do it all.
She moved to plant her hand on her hip, thought better of how it would tug her wound and dropped her arm to her side. “Who were you talking to just now?”
“Just checking in with someone.”
“Someone.” Her voice sounded flat even to her ears. She had no right to know who that person was. She shouldn’tcare. But AJ was trying to push his way back into her life—her heart. She already didn’t trust the man, but shereallydidn’t trust him sneaking around on the phone.
He removed his hand from his pocket and attempted a casual pose. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling like you’re full of shit, AJ.”
His eyes widened.
“That wasn’t Blackout on the phone. Or your doctor. I think you’re trying to do it all again, pull all the strings to put the terrorists in Blackout’s line of fire.”
He didn’t deny her accusation.
She let out a shaky breath. “Listen, I had to go through a lot of therapy because of you.”
“I know.”
Shock fused with her anger, creating a huge miasma of negative energy. Her grandmother in India would say her third eye was twitching.
“What do you mean…you know?”
He took a step away from the window but didn’t cross the room to her. She was relieved because if he so much as tried to put his hands on her and convince her that he wasn’t going deep undercover again, she’d start screaming.
His eyes locked with hers. “Well, what were the chances you’d meet the perfect therapist in the grocery store with such amazing ratesandan immediate opening for you on your lunch hour?”
His words punched her. She leaned forward on a gasp. “That was your doing?”
