Leila Petrov stared at him with narrowed eyes. Her lips pursed tight, and the muscles in her forearms and biceps twitched as she crossed them over her chest. She’d pivoted in her seat again, this time snapping off her seat belt. But she’d made no move to get out of his vehicle and disappear into her house.
As furious as she looked, Davis knew none of his own worry showed. He’d spent too many years running or parachuting into enemy territory with only as much gear as he could carry and no backup that could reach him and his team for days. He was well practiced in faking confidence in moments of doubt. If his fellow soldiers couldn’t see through it, neither would the young CEO heir of Petrov Armor.
“Well?” she demanded when he was silent too long.
A smile threatened and Davis fought to hide it. She was nothing like he’d expected when he’d first opened her file. Whether or not she’d gotten her role as CEO because she was the founder’s daughter, she knew the company inside out. She wasn’t afraid to call him on things, no matter the FBI’s involvement. He definitely hadn’t expected her dry sense of humor.
A laugh bubbled up thinking about her comment about the inflatable boat he probably kept in his SUV. If she only knew how often an inflatable boat had come in handy in his previous job.
“Are you laughing at me?” Leila demanded. “Because if those vests are truly ours, I plan to figure out who was behind it. I’m going to do it with or without your—”
“I’m not laughing at you,” Davis cut her off. He leaned closer, saw her chest rise and fall faster in response. “Why would you want to blow my cover?”
“You’re not holding up your end of the deal. I don’t appreciate you trying to manipulate me with flirtation, with...this.” She gestured in front of her, indicating their nearness.
This time, Davis knew his surprise showed. He leaned away from her, trying to regroup.
Leila pivoted even more in her seat, getting into his personal space the same way she had in that interview room. Going on the offensive when most people would do the opposite. “Is this your thing when you go undercover? Try to seduce your contacts?”
“I’m not...” Davis blew out a breath that ended on a laugh. “This is my first time undercover.”
He wasn’t at all comfortable with it. Sneaking into enemy territory as a ranger or doing dangerous raids as an FBI agent was far more his speed than pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Manipulating people into giving him information or access felt foreign and vaguely wrong, even if those people had criminal intentions.
“You’ve never gone undercover before? Oh.” She sat back fast, facing the windshield and giving him a chance to study her profile.
She looked nothing like Jessica Carpenter. Leila’s file said she was Russian and Pakistani, while Jessica was African American. Leila had a delicate, almost dainty profile, while Jessica had the bearing of a soldier. But there was something similar underneath the surface, something about the balance between a serious exterior and a softer, goofier side they both tried to hide.
Except Leila was still here, protecting a company that had killed Jessica.
The fact that she hadn’t known about it didn’t matter. The fact that he liked her more with every moment he spent in her company didn’t matter. All that mattered was using whatever means necessary to keep her trust and find the person responsible.
So, he forced a slow, knowing smile and added, “I can’t help finding you attractive.”
Her lips parted like she was going to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance. Instead, he continued. “I am keeping up my end of the deal. I told you I wanted more information on Eric Ross.”
Her head swung toward him, a frown already in place that told him he’d guessed correctly: she and Eric had a history that went way beyond the company. His plan had worked, to distract her from the real issue—whether he was telling her everything. Because of course he wasn’t. And he never would.
The jolt of jealousy at her reaction surprised him, but he ignored it and pressed on. “Unless that’s what this is really about? You don’t want me digging up dirt on your ex?”
She sputtered for a second, then frowned harder. “Just how involved is your file on me? You know who I dated when I was a teenager?”
Davis hadn’t known anything about it, but sensing that her anger might lead to answers, he shrugged, gave a vague answer. “We’re the FBI. We try to learn everything we can about suspects in active cases.”
“Suspects?” Leila said. “I thought we were past that.”
“We are,” Davis said, drawing his answers out, long and slow, the opposite of her fast-paced words. “But we had to start at the top, Leila. We know a lot about you.”
A flush rose high on her cheeks. “Does that mean you know how Eric befriended me after I pushed everyone else away after my mom died? How he got me help before I really hurt myself? How he dropped out of my life with no explanation when I graduated from high school? Or how he’s been calling me every night since my dad died just to make sure I don’t fall back into that same depression?”
The jealousy shifted, turned into appreciation that Eric had been there when Leila needed him, despite their history. Davis had seen her strong mask crack, seen how much she missed her father, how she was quietly grieving him. But he couldn’t imagine Leila depressed or self-destructive. The thought actually made his stomach hurt.
Leila’s voice wobbled just a little, then anger came through again. “Why does the FBI need to know about the hardest things in my life? Is it so you can use it all against me?”
Instantly regretting his tactics, Davis resisted reaching out for her hand. “We don’t have any
