Watching Sinclair without his knowledge was a betrayal in itself, but I couldn’t not watch him. Even if I could never claim Sinclair, he was still my mate. The need to lay eyes on him drove me harder than nearly everything in my life. By giving myself this little glimpse into his life, I was able to hold my panther off from claiming a man who I could never have.
I watched Sinclair pop a grape into his mouth as he looked through a file on the desk in front of him. I had no idea what the man was working on, but he didn’t seem happy. I worried about how much he was taking on. He needed to take better care of himself.
I wanted that job, but it wasn’t mine to take.
When Sinclair grimaced and pushed the plate of fruit away, I couldn’t stand it. I grabbed my phone and typed out a message to him, telling him to remember to eat. Contacting him probably wasn’t my best choice, but my concern for Sinclair’s health went above and beyond any misgivings I might have had.
I watched as Sinclair frowned when his phone rang before picking it up. He sucked in a breath when he read the message I had sent. He stared at it for several moments before erasing it and setting his phone back down. He went back to work as if he had never received the message, but after a minute, he reached for the fruit and began eating.
My panther curled up inside of me, happy that our mate had started eating again. It would have been better if we had provided the meal for our mate, but barring that, knowing he was at least eating would suffice.
I watched Sinclair a little longer, slowly sipping my fourth glass of whiskey. I still didn’t like how tired he looked or how pale he was. I knew taking over for Councilman James had to be putting a lot of strain on him, but this seemed more than that.
When Sinclair winced and his arm moved as though he was rubbing his stomach, I knew I was right to worry. I wanted to call Sinclair or send him another text to tell him to get some rest, but that would be too telling. More than one text in a day and Sinclair would know something was up.
I sat up straighter when I heard a knock at Sinclair’s door.
Sinclair closed the file he was reading and then glanced up. “Come in.”
The downside to hacking into Sinclair’s laptop was that I could only see what was right in front of it. I had no idea who had walked in until Sinclair sent whoever it was a small smile and began to speak.
“Stryker, thank you for coming.”
Stryker.
This, I could work with. I grabbed my phone and dialed the assassin. When the man answered, he didn’t say anything, which was exactly how I would have answered the phone.
“This is Stone. Don’t let Sinclair know it’s me.”
“Okay,” the man answered.
Sinclair was watching Stryker, so I knew the man wasn’t giving me away. If Sinclair knew it was me on the phone, he’d probably snag it right out of Stryker’s hand and toss it across the room.
“I need you to do me a favor.” I hated asking, but Sinclair’s health came before my pride.
“I’m listening.”
“Make sure Sinclair eats and gets some rest. He’s overworking himself.”
“I agree.”
I breathed out my relief. “Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Stryker hung up.
I set my phone back on the table and went back to watching Sinclair.
Sinclair held up a stack of files. “I need you to take a look at these and tell me what you see.”
My curiosity was piqued. Also my anger. Sinclair usually called me to talk things through. Why in the hell was he calling Stryker? He should have called me.
It didn’t take Stryker long to look through the files, maybe ten minutes. During that time, Sinclair leaned back in his wheelchair and stared at the man.
Every few minutes, he would rub his stomach. I didn’t know if he was hungry or upset. With the grimace that kept covering his face, I was going with upset.
