Chapter 5 #2
After taking care of business, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked the same. Unreadable.
Ever since leaving the house, she felt totally off her game. It all began with the Blackout team, and the women who were there to support them, gathered to see them off. Like they mattered.
She didn’t know what to do with that.
She washed her hands and opened the door.
Sinner turned his head as she stepped out, gaze flicking over her in a way that raised that awareness in her again.
She bristled.
“We need ground rules if we’re going to live together.”
His brow lifted. “Live together.”
“For the mission.” Her voice was sharp as irritation flared. He made their op sound domestic. “We’re sharing a bed and a cover. We can’t afford missteps.”
He turned to face her, gaze steady and too direct. “Okay. Ground rules.”
It almost threw her that he was being reasonable instead of egging her into a fight. He might still be famous at Quantico for knowing how to come out on top, but she was just as gifted, and he was about to find that out.
“We need rules about not hogging the bathroom.”
“All right.”
“And no taking long showers. We both have to get ready in the morning.”
“No problem.”
Thrown a little off-balance by how easy that was, she went to her bag and lifted it onto the luggage rack. She needed an outfit for her new government job tomorrow.
She unzipped her bag and pulled out an outfit, laying it on the bed with care.
Simple trousers, a blouse and a blazer. Neutral tones that wouldn’t draw attention.
She debated between the boots and high heels, and finally decided she wanted to make a good impression on her first day and chose the heels.
The garments had gotten a little wrinkled in the bag, so she looked around for a complementary iron and ironing board.
She located the appliance on the top shelf next to a few extra pillows.
She stashed that information in the back of her brain for later—they’d come in handy for building a pillow wall between her and her… husband.
She reached to pull the iron off the shelf, but suddenly, a wall of heat covered her back from the top of her head to her ankles. A long arm shot over her head, and Sinner closed his hand around the pillows.
“I can get it,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’m taller.”
“Size doesn’t matter,” she shot out.
His voice pitched low. “No, but size and skill really changes the game.”
She whipped around to face him. Which was a huge mistake, because that body heat now washed over her front. Over her throat, her breasts…her thighs.
He smelled nice too. Like he’d just shaved, or come back from the barber.
She stuck out a hand for the iron, and he handed it over, but not before she saw the slight flaring of his eyes.
As she plugged in the iron, she inwardly groaned. It looked like it had been manufactured during the Reagan administration and stored underwater.
Though it looked dubious and she was worried about ruining her borrowed clothes, she tried it anyway. Steam sputtered, then died, leaving the faint smell of burnt mineral deposits.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
That heat encompassed her back again, and the same long arm appeared in front of her, holding a small, modern device.
“A steamer?”
“Yes.”
She gulped at the rumble of his voice so close to her ear. She knew better than to turn around. “I didn’t know SEALs care so much about wrinkles.”
Even his snort was masculine enough to make her skin prickle. “It isn’t mine.”
She turned her head slowly. “Whose is it?”
“Kennedy gave it to me for you.” He circled to stand in her line of sight.
The name hit a strange place in her chest—part curiosity, part resentment. She kept her voice even. “Is Kennedy your girlfriend?”
His eyes sharpened, as if he liked the question more than he should. “No.”
A beat passed.
“She’s Dante’s girl.” He captured her gaze. “I’m single.”
Her stomach tightened. She wished he hadn’t said that.
It complicated things, blurred lines they needed to keep crisp and clean.
She forced her attention back to the clothes. “I didn’t ask for your relationship status.”
“You asked if she was mine. I call that asking my status.”
She hated that her face warmed, that her body betrayed her not once or twice but three times today.
She turned the steamer on and held it over the blouse, watching the wrinkles soften, thinking about the fact that someone she barely knew—Kennedy—had sent the item for a virtual stranger.
Opal’s throat tightened as she kept working on the wrinkles. “You people do that? Just…send things.”
Sinner leaned against the dresser, arms folded loosely across his muscled chest, but the room was small enough that she felt like he was invading her space.
“We look out for each other,” he said.
“There’s no competition on the team? On base?”
“What do you mean?”
“People stepping on others to get to the top.”
Understanding crossed his rugged features. “We’re Blackout, not the FBI.”
He watched her for a long moment, then moved toward his bag, which meant he brushed against her as he passed. He started pulling things out one by one. She tried to ignore him, crowding into a smaller space to avoid touching, but that wasn’t possible as he stacked items on the bed.
Toiletries. Their forearms touched.
A travel-size bottle of lotion. He bumped her shoulder.
A pack of mints. His thigh stroked along the length of hers.
A small first-aid kit. Their hips bumped. Just once. But it was enough for her body to react with a bloom of heat spreading through her chest.
And last…
He brought out a sleep mask.
He lifted the lavender silk between two fingers like it might bite him. “I don’t know what to do with this. But chicks use them.” He gave it a dubious sniff. “Smells like lavender.”
She gaped at him. “They just…lent these things to you?”
“To you.” He set the mask down.
Her chest felt too full, and she didn’t like the sensation. It couldn’t be trusted, just like everything else.
“Aren’t they afraid they won’t get them back?”
Sinner’s eyes were deep brown, the color of coffee. But those eyes pierced straight through her armor as if he could see the part of her that learned to count every possession, every meal, every kindness. And then question what motives were behind the gifts.
“It’s just stuff, Opal. Kennedy wants to make sure you’re comfortable.”
He sank to the edge of the bed, avoiding the blouse she was steaming.
He reached out to move the blouse a few inches to the side.
At the same time, she reached for it too.
Their hands collided, and it wasn’t only a brush this time.
Her hand was open, and so was his, which meant their fingers touched.
She was all too aware of how impressive his body actually was. God, he was huge.
She quickly pulled back.
“How did a nice girl like you end up in a place like this?” he tried to cover the moment.
She snorted. “I did good work.”
He nodded once. “What do you call ‘good work?’”
She eyed him. “I had a few successful missions.”
“My guess is more than a few to end up in a high-level op.”
She didn’t grace that with a response. “I don’t love the FBI, but I take pride in my work.”
“Me too. You don’t end up where I am by screwing things up. It’s how I was recruited to Blackout.”
“I thought you got there because they had to erase more than your mistakes. They had to erase you.” She paused in her task, and the steamer shot little puffs of vapor between them.
He issued a low grunt that made her skin ripple.
She pushed on, wanting that rise from him she never seemed to truly get. “So you’re really dead.”
“I’m not surprised you know that much. But yes. On paper.”
In her head, she heard Con’s words again. Bring each other back.
And the way the team had looked at her before they left, like she was already part of them.
Sinner didn’t just have a team or a brotherhood. Everyone in that house created a family, built on a foundation of choice and loyalty. They didn’t share violence like her family had, shut up together in that dingy motel before her father took off for good.
Blackout Charlie shared meals. Doors swung open instead of slammed shut. And people gathered to send them off because it mattered if they came back.
Opal had never imagined having that—couldn’t. Not once. The parameters of her life had been drawn early and reinforced often. The walls of her life were cramped. And she could only grow to fit within that small world that didn’t include any of those things others took for granted.
She whipped the steamer up and attacked the dress pants next. She had to get out of that headspace, stop wanting things that weren’t for her.
Don’t want what you can’t have. Don’t reach for doors that were never meant for you.
Her throat tightened again, and she hated it.
She couldn’t stand here and let her mind spiral. She couldn’t afford to.
She forced herself back into the mission.
“I’m hungry,” she said, because hunger was easy to fix.
Sinner held her gaze for a beat, clearly noting the redirect but not calling her on it.
He just nodded once. “We can go out.”
She flicked a look at him. Going out meant acting like husband and wife.
It also meant scoring drugs.
That she could do. Families, not so much.
She lifted her chin, her armor sliding back into place. She switched off the steamer, leaving the clothes for now. “Ready to do this?”
He pushed off the bed. “I’m ready.”
Opal found that she believed him. Not because she trusted easily.
But she got the feeling that her new partner just might have her back. Time would tell, wouldn’t it?