Chapter 9
NINE
Sinner had done a lot of odd jobs in his life. Dante instructed him to spend a few days trying to find work, even though Blackout already planted him in a position. The idea was to be visible, to show off his weaknesses and hopefully get noticed.
Pretending to be a construction worker with a bad back had to be one of the strangest things he’d ever done. When he wasn’t limping to new construction offices, he was back at the hotel, waiting for word from Opal and resisting the urge to organize the kitchenette.
The first night, he greeted her with a pastrami sandwich and hand-cut potato wedges and she actually polished off every last crumb.
On night two, he created a taco bar that would put any restaurant to shame.
When he told her they were going to play a little team-building trust exercise, she gave him a dubious look—until she had to build his tacos.
She thought she was being so cute by piling his with hot peppers and spicy sauce, but her eyes popped when he devoured the food with relish.
By the third evening, he knew Opal would expect a great dinner experience…
which was why he surprised her with what Charlie team liked to call “junk food night.” Every trash food appeared on their tiny table, from mini pizza bagels to chicken nuggets.
They ended with a dessert of boxes of movie theater candy they ate in front of a terrible old sci-fi flick on TV.
Now he finally made it to his new job, which was to sit on the edge of the low retaining wall the construction crew had built days ago, waiting for someone to tell him what to do.
He braced his elbows on his thighs, phone loose in his hand. The position gave him a clear line of sight across the yard, which meant the guys could see him wasting time between tasks.
Once in a while, he glanced at his phone and opened a game app. After making a few moves, he glanced around the construction site again to at least appear to be engaged.
His mind kept slipping back to Opal. Their night was…fucking amazing on a physical level. And…throwing him off-balance when he thought of just how intimate it had been.
Lurid images of Opal flashed through his mind. The pink in her cheeks when he pressed on her clit and fingerfucked her to a gasping orgasm. Her lips parted as he entered her. The way her eyelids dipped over her smoldering black eyes when he commanded her to touch herself.
When she shattered in his arms, then curled close to him, as unwilling to break the moment as he was.
Christ. He braced his boots in the gravel and directed his attention to the site again. A small group of workers were mixing mortar for the last section of the retaining wall. Two supervisors had a blueprint stretched between them, heads lowered to study it.
Sinner checked Opal’s location. Two small dots overlapped on the screen, showing the location of the tracker he placed in her pocket and another in her shoe.
Some of the tightness in his chest eased when he saw she was still at the office. When he sent her a text, he told himself it was part of the op, nothing more, and he made sure to keep the conversation centered on their fake marriage.
How’s the job?
Her response came instantly, as if she was waiting for it.
Hanging on. If I never see another spreadsheet, it’ll be too soon.
His lips quirked at the undertone of irritation, picturing her in a tiny cubicle, her back straight as always.
He didn’t rush his response. You eat lunch?
After a pause, her words popped on the screen. Same turkey sandwich as always. No surprises.
According to Dante and Elin, Cipher would be actively scouring things like random text streams between a happily married yet financially dysfunctional couple.
Chili for dinner, honey bun? he texted.
There was a longer delay this time. He resisted the urge to fill the dead air and worked even harder to keep his mind off reasons why she was hesitating. But several minutes later, her answer came.
I was thinking pizza, cute buns.
His mouth twitched again. Even if their banter was completely for show, he liked to believe she really enjoyed his buns.
So I’m cooking tonight after laboring all day?
No one makes pizza like you.
He stared at the screen longer than necessary. In a short time, she’d already learned that much about him. He was used to the guys ribbing him about his skill with dough, but Opal made it feel a little more personal. Not in a bad way, in an I-see-you way.
She was the only person who would actually understand why he turned to his craft in the kitchen if he told her.
I see what I mean to you. Crispy crust, cheesy inside.
Her response was immediate. You’re very dramatic for a man in love with his slow cooker.
A shadow crossed his peripheral vision.
“Franklin.”
He looked up to see his supervisor standing there, clipboard tucked against his ribs. The man’s eyes flicked once to the phone, then back to Sinner’s face. “Office.” He didn’t bother to soften it.
Sinner rose without comment and followed, totally aware of his surroundings out of habit. The office was a small trailer they moved from site to site, cramped and utilitarian.
He turned to Sinner. “Look, I need you to actually try working. The guys are starting to complain about you. If I don’t appear to address their complaints, I’m going to have a mutiny.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. Let’s see it.”
Sinner walked out of the trailer with a little catch in his step like a man with back pain. He threw himself into hauling materials, working enough to sell the story while still appearing to be fucked up on drugs part of the day and hurting the other.
Deep down, he enjoyed the burn in his muscles. Sweat dampened his shirt and dust clung to his forearms.
By lunch, the men around him had started talking like he was one of them. Sinner checked his phone several times and shot off a few texts to Opal.
One guy leaned against a stack of pallets, chewing slowly. “Your wife text you much?” he asked.
Sinner took a drink of water. “Enough.”
The man laughed. “Mine too. Always wants to know if I ate.”
Sinner was glad the guy noticed. That meant others did too.
His phone vibrated again, and he checked it.
Still pretending to be normal?
He felt the small jab at his personality. It made him smile.
It made him eager to finish the day and see her again.
But it brought a load of worry too. She’d retaliated against a drug dealer and left him bleeding in an alley. Men like that didn’t take those things lightly. He could be waiting for her when she left the office. Not to mention she was being watched in general by Cipher.
Opal had proven she could handle herself. But the thought of watching her tracker on a screen while he looked on, helpless, made him want to break apart the wall the crew just erected.
As normal as you, he returned the jab.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and went back to work even though he was eager for quitting time.
Somewhere in the middle of luring a terrorist out of hiding, dark confessions about WitSec and Opal landing in his arms, he’d started looking forward to seeing her and trying to make each other break first.
It made his chest squeeze in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, and that was dangerous.
Near the end of his shift, he pulled the phone out once more.
Pizza tonight. Chili tomorrow. Compromise.
Her reply came after a beat. Deal.
He stood there for a moment, the noise of the construction site fading into the background. Staying two steps ahead of things had been drilled into him until it was instinct. It was how he survived.
But this wasn’t something he could have ever predicted.
Opal was one thing he hadn’t seen coming.
* * * * *
Opal never allowed what little personal life she had to bleed into her career, and she’d told herself from the start this op would be no different.
But even as she settled into her cubicle, her thoughts kept circling back to Sinner. What they did together lingered in her mind…in every inch of skin he’d touched…and made the thought of going back to the hotel anything but neutral.
At lunch she sat on the same bench, not eating as she scanned the area for a dealer. She nodded politely at people she knew worked in the building but didn’t know any of their names—a recurring theme in her life.
People passed through her life in an endless stream. The men in the MC, their women and children. Countless others moved in and out of the motel so often she never could remember their names even if she’d tried. Not to mention the kids in school who were never friends.
In second grade, she thought she had a friend—Bethany.
But when she told Bethany that her real name wasn’t Opal and she was living a life that wasn’t her own, the girl dropped her so fast that it took weeks of crying in her pillow to get over.
It also meant, she and her family had to be moved—a punishment for telling the truth.
Now Opal rarely thought of herself as that name. She was Opal.
Besides Bethany, people in Quantico came and went, a big pool of names and faces that didn’t mean a thing to her. It was the same for the people she met during missions.
Her mind drifted to the Blackout Charlie base with a stutter.
She remembered their names. Why? She knew Kennedy was just as kind as she was pretty, and she was generous about lending her things to Opal. Then there was Sophie and Izzy and all the rest.
She drew in a deep breath, letting her lungs expand with this new introspection.
As soon as lunch was over, she shot Sinner a text. I might be late. Going to find a place to pick up your pills.
She stared at the screen for a second before she slipped the phone over and forced herself back into the spreadsheet in front of her. At least she had computer skills.
A moment later, her phone buzzed with Sinner’s reply.
Just happy you’re coming home to me.