Chapter 5
FIVE
Sinner had crossed a lot of lines in his career. Pretending to be broken wasn’t one of them.
He zipped his go-bag and told himself this was no different from a dozen other ops—new cover, same rules. Protect the asset. Complete the mission. Get out clean.
Except Opal Simmons wasn’t an asset in the usual sense…and he’d known that the moment she’d frozen in the doorway downstairs last night.
People who felt nothing didn’t lock themselves down that fast.
He slung the strap over his shoulder and left the room, listening to the sounds of the base waking up. The energy in the house always shifted before a departure. No one ever said the words, but they all knew what could happen if an op went sideways. Tomorrow was never promised.
Sinner reached the door of Con’s office and knocked once. His CO looked up as he stepped inside, already reading the situation before Sinner spoke.
“You ready?” Con asked.
“Packed.”
He remained standing, bag over his shoulder. This wasn’t a casual conversation between brothers before an op.
“I want more on Opal.”
Con leaned back slightly, studying Sinner the way he studied terrain, looking for places a threat could hide.
“That can be arranged.” He leaned forward, tapped the keyboard a few times and sat back again. “I wouldn’t set you up for failure, Sinclair.”
Con’s use of his last name came with weight.
“I never thought you would. I’m not worried that I can’t pull this off. But Opal comes with too many unknowns.”
“I just sent you her file.”
“Thank you.”
“Before you go, a word.”
Sinner gave him his full attention even though his fingers twitched to open that file.
“These weaknesses you’ve been given can be exploited. People are going to say things around you because they think you’re fucked up on drugs. Use that to your advantage.”
“Copy. Good advice.”
Con pushed to his feet and rounded his desk, fist extended. Sinner bumped it with his own. “Good luck.”
“I’ll take it.” He swung toward the door.
“And Sinner.”
He turned back.
“That file’s confidential.”
He dipped his head in understanding. Not as if he planned to share the contents with anybody, and he wouldn’t be sharing it with the woman it was about.
“It’s a different kind of confidential than we’ve seen.”
He digested that but didn’t reply. As he left the office, his phone felt heavy in his pocket.
When he reached the back door where they were told to meet, voices drifted to him. His chest got tight as he saw the whole team gathered there to see them off, despite the late night they’d had.
Ash’s hand came down on his shoulder, gripping it tight. “You need anything, I’ve got your six.”
He nodded. “I know it, bro.”
Mason was next. “Try not to enjoy pretending you’re a mess too much.”
He chuckled and slapped hands with his brother and they snapped their fingers at the end.
Dante gripped his hand, drawing him in to bump shoulders. “You come back—or we come get you. There’s no third option.”
He looked up at Opal where she stood near the door, her duffel at her feet. He stared into her eyes when he said, “We got this.”
Her expression was as composed as always, but tension played around her dainty mouth, so subtle most people would miss it.
Izzy leaned close and whispered to her.
Opal went stiff, then flushed.
Sinner’s gut squeezed at the sight of the pink blush climbing her cheeks. She had a stark beauty that pulled his stare to her again and again. But seeing her body betray her before her mind could intervene pleased the hell out of him.
She caught him staring at her and her flush deepened to an almost painful pink that only accented the irritation in her eyes.
Sinner took mercy and looked away first. He walked over and grabbed her bag.
She reached for it. “I got it.” She tugged on the strap. He made sure to brush her fingers with his, just to see if he could make that blush deepen. It did.
“Just getting some practice. I’m supposed to be your husband.” He tightened his grip on the bag.
“Who has a back injury,” she snapped, yanking harder.
Con appeared, just like Sinner knew he would. He wouldn’t let any of them go without a final word. “Bring each other back.”
Their small spat over the bag faded. Sinner answered with a quiet, “We will.”
He stepped back, and Opal picked up her bag, nodding once.
There was no winning the argument over the bag. No more one-upping each other. From this point on, they were a team.
They left to more murmured goodbyes and the soft thud of doors closing behind them.
The drive was uneventful. Opal stared out the window, hands folded in her lap, the light kiss of dawn turning her pale skin to ice. She didn’t fidget, and she didn’t fill the silence with empty talk.
Sinner knew how to give people space, so he focused on the road. The open interstate turned into suburbs, then the city.
The extended stay hotel was exactly what it needed to be—forgettable.
The parking lot was all cracked pavement with weeds poking up, trying to cling to life.
At least the doors and windows looked relatively secure, and the landscaping consisted of only a few sparse shrubs.
Not a lot of places for people to jump out and ambush them.
He cut the engine. “Welcome to Chateau Shithole.”
To his shock and pleasure, Opal made a noise, not quite a laugh but a soft puff of air that came close to it.
When he climbed out of the old model car, he made sure to move slow and careful, planting a wince on his face so the world saw a man in pain.
Opal snapped into the role with ease too, hurrying around the car to take his arm to support him. She shouldered both bags that should have been too heavy for her slim build, but she carried them up a flight of stairs to their room like she had trained for it.
Which she had. Maybe even in real life. It was easy to imagine her taking care of a parent or stepping into a caregiver role even at a young age.
Dammit, he needed a few minutes alone to read that file Con sent.
The room was small but serviceable, with a queen bed, a dresser and neutral art.
Opal dropped her bag on the floor and shut the door. “Of course it has one bed.”
Sinner turned to her. “You can take the dresser.”
“It’s fine. I’ll stay packed.” She left her bag by the door.
Exactly where he left his. Because a SEAL was always prepared to bug out at a moment’s notice.
Clearly so was Opal.
He twitched his head toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to—”
She made a face of disgust but said nothing.
He locked himself in the cramped space and opened the file.
There wasn’t a lot of content, but the gaps spoke louder than any details.
Seedy motel upbringing. Inconsistent schooling. No driver’s license. No job history. No college record.
No record of birth.
His breath slowed and his lungs squeezed.
All at once, he knew what made Opal cling to her control with an iron grip.
She was in the program. Witness protection.
And from a young age.
The picture came into focus all at once. Her caution, her precision, the way she was always measuring the distance to the nearest exit. She hadn’t learned to be safe—she’d learned to survive.
Something inside him shifted. What she must have gone through…
She knocked on the door. “Sinclair?”
“Just a minute.”
He finished reading the last of the file, letting the weight of it settle. People in WitSec didn’t trust anybody. But to make this work, he needed to show her that she could trust him.
Another knock followed, firmer this time. “We’re going to have to make some rules.”
He slid the phone into his pocket.
She pounded on the door hard. “Christ, Sinclair! At least do a courtesy flush!”
A grin stretched over his face as he realized what she thought was taking so long.
Except he wasn’t quite composed enough to face her yet. Now he saw the fractures she hid from the world.
He knew how she got here too. Someone named Smith was probably her only ally in the world.
Sinner knew one thing with absolute certainty. Whatever happened, he would make damn sure she came out of this op intact because he’d bet money on the fact few others ever had.
Even if he had to burn his cover—and himself—to make it happen.
* * * * *
BUD/S training obviously didn’t teach Navy SEALs that women needed a bathroom after long trips.
Opal’s bladder didn’t care that she was in an extended-stay hotel with one bed and one bathroom and a man on the other side of the door who could probably take apart a rifle blindfolded.
It cared that drive had been long, drinking her morning coffee had been a mistake…and Caius Sinclair had been in the bathroom long enough to raise concern.
She paced between the bed and the dresser, and stopped. She refused to look like she was anxious, even about needing the bathroom. Needing anything was a weakness, and Opal didn’t do weakness.
She shifted from foot to foot, glaring at the door. “Sinclair.” Her voice was flat.
No answer.
She pulled in a fortifying breath, then raised her voice. “Use the fan! For the love of God, hurry up.”
A beat of silence followed. Finally, the lock clicked.
The door opened and he stepped out like he hadn’t been in there a good twenty minutes.
She swept her gaze over him, searching for a sign that he’d taken a quick shower. But his hair was dry and in its usual strict style. That bit of hair that made her fingers twitch to touch it back in the “casino” was tucked neatly in line with the rest.
His expression didn’t give anything away, but he did that thing again—that deep dive into her like he could read her.
Which he couldn’t. No one could.
She lifted her chin. “Finally.”
His mouth twitched as if he found her annoyance entertaining, and he waved a hand at the bathroom door.
As she stalked past him, she let her shoulder bump his. With their height difference, she really only bumped his bicep, but it drove home her point.
She didn’t bother to see his reaction, just closed and locked the door behind her. The space smelled faintly, and surprisingly, of lemon cleaner.