Chapter 3 #2
“What about my plans ?” I ask Dodger.
He glances up at me, and I see my weathered friend feels for what I’m about to go through despite his lack of knowledge about my relationship with Grant.
“You’re lead on this, Collins. Share any plans with your new partner.”
Slowly, my fallen facade reappears. Standing up, I pull my jacket around me tightly and shift my briefcase bag around my shoulder.
“Will do, sir.”
With my mask in place, I stoically march out of Dodger’s office with Grant on my heels.
I walk toward Dodger’s assistant, and she’s standing in front of her desk with two sealed packets in her hands. As I approach, she silently hands one to me and then one to Grant.
He follows me as I leave, and we reach the elevator silently.
As I enter, I press the first-floor button and watch as the doors close with us both inside.
“You need to do better,” he says.
I flinch and slowly turn to look up at his two hazel eyes.
“Excuse me?” I ask slowly.
“You’re better than that. Don’t let Dodger get to you.”
“I was professional.”
“You were emotional.”
My head rears back in astonishment before I face forward once again.
“You’re better than that.”
“You don’t even know me, Sinclair. Despite what you may think, you have no idea who I am or how I work.”
“Cara.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I know you’re one of the best contractors out there. I know you have one of the top five sniper shots in the world.”
Grant pauses, and I feel the warmth of his breath lightly touching the shell of my ear. It causes goose bumps to prick along my skin.
I turn around and face him once more. When I do, our faces are mere inches away from one another.
One thing I hate the most about Grant Sinclair is that he is every bit as breathtaking as the reputation that precedes him. I want to say he’s not my type, but as I’m caught in his line of sight, I long to stay here.
“You’re a phenomenal daughter who continually goes above and beyond for her parents. You value family. You value those who you let yourself get close to. You care more than anyone in our line of work should. You are Cara Collins. The best there is.”
My mouth parts as I bask in his words.
“Don’t let someone like Dodger get under your skin.”
He waits for me to reply, but how can I respond to that? He just crossed every line we’ve ever put between us. All my mixed emotions about the man are swirling around my mind, making me feel lightheaded.
The elevator dings and begins to open, and we both automatically face the door. I readjust my bag on my shoulder and grin as I face him one last time.
“I think you’d like to be the only man who gets under my skin.”
Grant grins widely back.
I step off the elevator and hear him behind me as we head to the double doors to leave the agency.
“Tomorrow, 0500 hours. Meet me at the Skyline Diner. We need to go over our plans.”
“See you there, darling,” he says with a faint laugh.
The diner is my favorite one in the city. It’s close to the agency and my office, but it’s more than that. It reminds me of simpler times. Almost as if it has been frozen in a past era.
The owner is a wrinkled older man who still works the cash register and counter. His granddaughter handles the rest of the tables. It’s usually relatively empty, but it really shouldn’t be—they have the best cinnamon rolls in town.
I’m here before five in the morning, wanting to get settled in before Grant’s arrival. His words from yesterday are still weighing heavily on my mind.
I was off-kilter when Dodger told me the latest news and updates. He wants me to pretend to be married to Grant to infiltrate the Carolinas mafia. It wasn’t far from what I was originally thinking, but I never considered the possibility that my partner in this would be Grant Sinclair.
Capturing the Marlin will be one of my crowning moments in the field, more so than my conquest of the Kingpin. What I need is for Grant to allow me to take the lead on this so I can bring them all down together.
I’m not sure what to think after everything he said in the elevator.
I hate Grant Sinclair with every fiber of my being, yet his words penetrated me deeply like no one else has done before.
I take a sip of my black coffee. The jingle from the front door fills the diner, and I know it’s going to be Grant. Glancing down at my watch, I see it’s five a.m. on the dot. As expected, Grant is punctual, a trait he shares with my old friend, Dodger.
Grant scans the mostly empty diner and spots me immediately, giving me a small nod as he walks toward the red faux-leather booth I’m sitting in.
He slides into the opposite side as his camel trench coat molds to his body with his easy movements.
“Collins. Come here often?” he asks as he folds his hands on the table.
“I do.”
Our server comes over right away and sets a coffee mug in front of Grant. He graciously accepts it and asks for a water as well.
“Caffeine and hydration,” I comment.
“Important for this hour.”
“Did I get you out of bed too early? Sorry if I’m messing with your beauty sleep.”
He smirks as he pours a creamer pod into his coffee.
“For you? I’ll get up at four a.m. and head across town any day.”
“Right.” I scoff.
I readjust in my seat and pull out a folder I made for Grant. It has more details than the one we were both given by the agency.
Sliding it over, he stops it in the middle of the table.
“Collins. I have no doubt that you’ve laid out everything as is, but I think we need to have a conversation before diving into the Carolinas mafia.”
“I agree.” I sigh.
“I know this organization,” he starts.
I go to interrupt, but he puts his hand up slightly.
“I know you do too. But it’s different for me. I’ll explain everything eventually.”
“But?”
“But I know them. Well. Not from afar.”
I breathe out a long wind of air.
“What are you saying?”
“If Dodger wants us to pretend to be married, then we have to commit.”
I glance around the room to buy time. What is he saying? Sensing my confusion, Grant runs his hand down his face. He looks pained to have to explain this to me.
“Collins. We need to get married.”
“What?” I practically shout.
“Yes.”
“Why? We aren’t going in as Cara Collins and Grant Sinclair. Why would we have to get married?”
“We need the paperwork. We can get it forged. I know a guy locally. But we have to get a marriage certificate. They’ll look into us if I’m coming back into the fold.”
“Okay, right, our aliases have to get married. Not actually us .”
“No, but…”
He stretches in the booth, and I take it as a stall tactic to gather his thoughts. It’ll be important to know his tells if we’re doing this for the next few months.
“I think we should get married in case things go poorly. We can’t testify against one another. Legally.”
“If things go poorly? Sinclair.”
I shut my eyes tightly before opening and looking up at him.
He looks tired, not because of the early hour but because of what this situation entails. It finally hits me. This isn’t just a contract for him either; Grant wants this just as much as I do.
“This operation will be the one that defines both of our careers. Despite our diverging interests most of the time, this one is different. We’re on the same team. With that comes complications.”
I lean back in the booth while weighing my options. Even though Grant Sinclair drives me crazy, I know deep down that he wouldn’t intentionally want to be married to me unless it was crucial to do so.
“Alright, Grant. We’ll do it your way. Let’s get married.”