Chapter 6
SIX
Grant
The drive from Los Angeles to San Diego is a relatively easy one. It’s usually a time when I appreciate the ability to think while driving along the coastline. Not this trip; instead, I find myself sitting next to the version of Cara Collins that I periodically see out in the field.
She’s determined, fierce, and confident. It’s as if saying “I do” sealed our fate for how this was going to go. A business transaction and nothing more. Not that I’m complaining, because it is business.
The version of Cara that I saw at the courthouse was entirely different. She was vulnerable, and I knew that this wedding was something that held meaning to her that she would never admit to me.
I realized that as soon as I saw her step inside the courthouse, and then time and time again. All I wanted to do was tell her how she made me feel right then.
I did my best to show her how this would go without crossing any lines.
As I glance over at the wind blowing in her hair, she looks like a model from any of the high-fashion magazines, not a spy ready to take on the mafia.
A sting of guilt twists inside me.
I’ve seen Cara out there in action, but it’s entirely different now that she’s my wife. What if something were to happen to her? I meant every word I said before we got married. I would protect her with my life in any situation.
Maybe I didn’t think this through because I’m experiencing a new weight of wanting to make sure she’s taken care of.
“Are you okay over there?” Cara asks.
I glance over to see her leaning against the passenger side doorframe, letting the scarf covering her hair float out the window with the wind.
“Fine.”
Looking back at the road, I pick up the speed; anything to get out of this car and have some time alone to think. I should have just had her meet me there, but even I need to remember that part of this ruse is following the steps I would take with any other contractor in our line of work.
“Fine?” she muses.
“Yes, it’s a word.”
“If you say so.”
I twist my hands around the steering wheel tightly. She’s trying to get under my skin now, but I have to play into this hand.
“And what’s wrong with that?” I ask.
“Please, don’t play dumb now. No one has ever said the word fine and meant it.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Maybe you’re more bland and typical than I imagined.”
I smirk as I change lanes.
“Maybe I am,” I taunt.
Cara pops off her sunglasses and soaks me in. Pretending like I’m not suddenly interested in her attention is harder than I imagined it would be. More truths are coming to light.
“I don’t get you, Sinclair.”
“Not much to get.”
“Really?” she asks, drawing it out.
“Really.”
“Then tell me about you.”
“Cara Collins is finally trying to get to know me. Never thought the day would come.”
“We have another two hours. Have to pass the time somehow.”
“That’s it? Passing the time by getting to know your new husband.”
She sighs and turns to face forward with her glasses still off.
I’m not sure why, but the sudden distance she just put between us by shutting down is another feeling I’m not a fan of. Lately, there seem to be a lot of new ways that Cara is able to affect me.
She tilts her head back on the seat and closes her eyes. The way the sun illuminates her skin makes her look like someone I want to actually talk to. Another new feeling I’ll have to dive into eventually.
“I’m from Charleston.”
I hear the way the leather seat crinkles as she goes back to her original position with a better ability to look my way.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. My parents moved to Charleston from Ireland before I was born.”
She shifts beside me.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Without going into all my gritty details, I ended up in California working for a security agency, and one thing led to the next. Now I’m running my company.”
“Why do you still go out in the field?”
I give her a light laugh.
I wonder the same thing every day.
“No, what I meant is, your operation is much larger than mine. And I know you own about a dozen other businesses…”
“Well, they aren’t all—” I start.
She holds up a hand to cut me off.
“Or investments. Whatever you want to call them. Point is, you don’t need to be the one out and about in the field. Frankly, you don’t need jobs from the agency either.”
Not a question. My little lucky charm has done her research.
“I like being out in the field. While I still can. Plus, the agency gives me access that sometimes is difficult to get without working for the government.”
“While you still can?”
“I’m not getting any younger. Once we catch the Marlin, I’ll probably rein in my activity.”
Cara laughs loudly, only instead of grating on me, it sounds like the sweetest melody. Another situation I’ll think about later.
“Sinclair,” she says through stifled laughter.
“Am I amusing you?”
“Grant. Come on. You told me you’re forty-nine years old. That’s young. I mean, my dad is old, but you aren’t.”
A sting courses through me. She’s comparing me to her goddamn dad.
“Maybe I feel like I am.”
“Back to this?”
“Just saying, Collins, time goes by quickly. I may be almost fifty years old, but my body, and frankly, my mind, feel like I’ve been through enough to last me a lifetime.”
A few minutes of silence pass.
“You know I don’t think you’re anything like my dad, right?” she asks.
It comes out more serious than our playfulness has been the entire car ride.
“Don’t worry, I know you don’t. I also know a girl like you shouldn’t end up with a fifty-year-old man like me.”
“Why is that?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She hums.
“Whatever you say, Sinclair.”
Cara crosses her arms over her chest and brings one of her legs up to fold under her body on the seat. She’s closing herself off to me again.
Good.
Cara opening up to me will do neither of us any good in this line of work.
The suite at the Draper Hotel is meant for a couple on their honeymoon. In mostly white and gold designs, it’d be the perfect place if I were trying to impress my new bride.
This is my assistant Rob’s doing. He asked what I wanted, and I told him we needed a suite for space, but this is beyond that. Hell, we could have gotten any number of other rooms at this hotel instead of this one that would have worked.
The Draper Hotel is my favorite place to stay in San Diego, all because of the beachfront view. The very one I’m staring out at right now, and Cara is too.
“It’s beautiful,” she says.
“It is,” I say from behind where she stands.
Maybe I am talking about the woman in front of me too.
“Think we could go down there at sunset?”
“It’s a must.”
Cara laughs softly, and I watch as her body vibrates.
“What?”
“I get it.”
“What’s that?”
“The charm of the great Grant Sinclair. If this is the type of date you normally provide to your flock of women, then I get why you’re so infamous.”
Another unintentional sting.
“Don’t believe every rumor you hear.”
I leave the best view I’ve had in ages and head to the nearby in-room bar. Closing the short distance, I pull out a tiny whiskey bottle from the mini fridge and pour it into a glass.
“Is there another one of those in there?” Cara calls out.
“There is.”
I pull out the second mini bottle of whiskey and pour Cara’s into the other glass available.
I hear the sound of her heels against the tile as she approaches.
“I don’t think you’re sleeping with women in every city,” she says.
“Just LA?” I quip.
“Maybe LA and New York,” she teases.
My shoulders relax, and I had no idea they were as tense as they were. We’re not even on the mission yet, and I have a feeling neither of us is acting like ourselves.
“I’m going to go in the other room and take a shower. Maybe change out of this wedding dress. Then I’ll take that drink,” she muses.
As she walks away, I feel a sense of loneliness.
“Collins?” I shout as I turn toward the doorway.
She stills and looks over her shoulder at me.
“You looked beautiful today. It’s a pity we didn’t take any pictures.”
Cara bites down on her plump lower lip, and it stirs something inside me.
“Come in here,” she says while gesturing for me to follow.
I do immediately.
She sits down on the bed and pulls out her cell phone from the purse she was carrying.
“Sit down next to me,” she demands.
And I do immediately once again.
Tossing the purse onto the bed, she then opens the camera on her cell phone. She makes it so the camera’s focus is on us, sitting together.
I put my arm around the back of her waist. Cara’s breath hitches from the contact before she pulls it together.
“Smile,” she says.
We both face the camera, and she takes a few shots of us together.
Lowering the phone in her hand, Cara turns to me and smiles. It’s breathtaking to witness.
“Now we do.” She beams.
I clear my throat and adjust the tie around my neck.
“I’ll be out on the balcony with our drinks,” I offer.
Cara nods, and I see a hint of something in her eyes that I’m imagining is desire. It can’t be because all of this is just pretend.
“See you out there,” I rasp.
She smirks before disappearing into the bathroom.
Out on the balcony, the whiskeys are sweating as I wait for Cara to get out of the shower.
The sound of waves crashing in the distance makes me realize that this is going to be a rare moment of calmness before the metaphorical storm.
Fuck. Not metaphorical at all, really.
I may die in the next few months. A thought I have come to terms with.
It’s not that I’m terrible at my job or anything of the like; this is one of the most dangerous roles I’ll play, and I’ll be doing it with Cara by my side. This isn’t exactly the setting I imagined when I would finally have a chance to catch the Marlin.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s my assistant, Rob.
“This is Grant.”
“Mr. Sinclair. How is the Draper?”
“You got us one of the best rooms in the hotel.”
“Fantastic news. I wasn’t sure if my connection would be able to get one on short notice.”
I sigh as I rub my eyebrows.