His response almost shocked him more than that shooter recognizing her as The Accountant and taking aim at her.
“I’m not.”
* * * * *
“The FBI is on the way.” Con’s statement in Ellory’s ear brought her back from…
Well, whatever that was.
Ash’s body surrounded her—shielded her.
And he didn’t move away. His body pinned her to the wall as much as his dark gaze. She listened to him debriefing the team, but she only heard her heart thundering in her ears.
If Ash had hesitated at all, she would be lying dead on the floor instead of that shooter.
Dozens of questions rambled through her mind, overlapping images of the things she’d seen on the computer—files, transactions and code.
Sophie could see them on Ash’s camera footage and was probably deciphering them now.
Oh god. The body cam he wore was still on, pointed right at her chest. The team would know he was holding her up.
They might even know he’d kissed her.
What only felt like moments later, they heard people entering the building. Ash met her stare, eyes searching, probing so deep that her heart skipped a beat.
Then he turned away from her as three FBI agents rushed in.
She leaned on the wall, forcing her mind back to the situation. Ash quickly filled in the agents.
He sliced a look her direction. “They knew her. They called her The Accountant.”
All three heads whipped her way. “Ms. Carmichael,” one of them said with a nod.
“Hi, Stefan.”
She felt Ash’s surprise like his body was an extension of hers since saving her life.
And molding his body against hers.
And kissing her.
One of the agents twitched his head toward the door. “We have what we need. We’ll take care of this.” He directed his attention to the dead man on the floor, and Ellory closed her eyes to avoid following his gaze.
She barely registered Ash cupping his fingers around her elbow and leading her out. Her feet didn’t want to work in the boots that were too tight, and her legs were wooden as he led her to the van.
Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes of the drive. As they navigated the dark maze of streets to the highway that would take them to base, she gripped the seat and tried to stop the constant tremor rolling through her.
“Tell me your real role in the FBI.” Ash’s voice had a harsh edge, like he’d gargled glass.
“I’m not in the FBI.” Her own wavered.
“CIA then.”
“I’m not CIA either. Or Homeland or anything else. I told you—I’m The Accountant.”
“You saythelike it’s different fromanaccountant.” He turned his head and pierced her in his stare. His eyes glittered in the lights of the dashboard.
“It is different.” She pulled off her glasses and bit the stem.
