Page 41 of Body of Trust

I take a heavy breath as I take in this new way of life. “If you’re sure, then that’s how it needs to be. But if anyone says anything about seeing us together, I’ll guard your secret.”

“I know you will.” He grins as he resumes cooking.

“So, Grant was a cover, but Jesse is your real name?” I ask.

He nods as he adds peppers and tomatoes to the omelet. I smile at the sight.

“You seem happy about that.”

I blink at his comment, realizing I am smiling but not about his name. “No, I was just watching you make the eggs, and they’re exactly how I like my omelets.”

“I know,” he says easily.

I’ve only had breakfast at Villa Russo a handful of times over the past year. The fact that he remembers how I like my eggs is endearing.

I lift a hand to my cheek, which I’m sure is red from blushing, and get back to our conversation. “Why not take a fake first name too?”

The smile that graces his face is a mix of humor and awkwardness as he runs a hand over his eyes for a second. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. Okay, so you know the movie 21 Jump Street with Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum?” He looks at me to see if I’ve seen it. I nod, so he continues, “There’s a scene where one of the undercover cops, Schmidt, is in a store, and he gets recognized by this woman. She calls out his name loudly, making the bad guys he’s with question what’s going on. Anyway, I kept my first name just in case I ever met someone from my real life.”

“And where is that? You must be local if you think someone from your life would notice you.”

“Kentucky.”

I blanch. “That is definitely not where I thought you were gonna say.”

“I grew up in a small town in Kentucky. Friday Night Lights kinda town yet close enough to a city to not feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere. Never left the state until I moved to Washington, DC, to go to the training academy.”

“That’s a big move. What was the draw to public service?”

He folds the omelet over. “When I was in high school, I read a book about an undercover FBI agent. He posed as a drug dealer, contract killer, pedophile, degenerate gambler, international weapons dealer, white-collar criminal. His job sounded terrifying and dangerous. It was exciting. I thought to myself, I’d like that.”

“Do you like it as much as you thought you would?”

“Yes, and no. For example, my last assignment was in a strip club. The girls were selling more than a show up front. Drugs and sex were dealt in the back rooms. While it killed me to see these girls get hauled away, separated from their families, I had convinced one to go straight during my time there. And when the club closed down, a main supplier for drugs in the area went down too.”

“And then you were assigned to my father?”

With the omelet done, he shuts the heat off and turns to face me fully. His gaze is serious as he levels with me. “Amelia, I’ve compromised myself by telling you this. It’s too late to ask for assurances, but I have to tell you that if the wrong people find out I’m an informant, I will be killed.”

“My family would never—”

“There are horrible people out there, and everything is fair game.”

The man’s words from my car yesterday ring in my ear. My father’s, mother’s, and sister’s lives are at risk if I don’t do what they say. Nothing surprises me anymore.

“I understand.” I stare at the floor, curving my brows. “You must miss your family terribly.”

“I do.”

He plates the omelet and sets it on the counter. I’m hungry, but I don’t want to break the moment of our conversation. Now that he’s opening up, I don’t want it to end.

“This is why you don’t speak to your family. I thought it was a fight, but you’re protecting them by staying away,” I say, and he nods. “Is it worth it?”

“Some days, no. I want to have a beer with my old man or hear my mom sing at church so bad. But other times, like when I rushed you out of Villa Russo or got you away from Rocco, it’s been one hundred percent worth it.”

“Rocco’s dead,” I say.

“I know.” He folds his arms across his chest.