“That was hours ago,” Sullivan comments, sliding a mug of coffee over the counter to me.
“I’m good,” I say.
The truth is, Sinclair went into that deli and ordered the largest breakfast sandwich. Then she handed it straight to me.
“All right, Mr. Moody, you’re getting fed whether you like it or not. I’m not entertaining a hangry episode from you while we’re meeting with my agent.”
She even made us sit inside at a window table for two, scrolling on her phone while I ate, glancing at me every now and then.
“Good boy,”she’d cooed when I was done, reaching over, and brushing a crumb from my lips that I’m sure was never there.
I grip my mug hard.
“You all right?” Sullivan asks, glancing at my white knuckles.
“I’m fine.” My gaze travels to Sinclair and Molly. Monty has laid with them and is playing dead.
“She’s giving you shit, isn’t she? I know she’s a handful, but?—”
“No, she’s fine,” I reply, forcing my eyes away from her again.
I’m not going to tell Sullivan about last night. He’d only tear into Sinclair for taking a risk. And the way she’d looked so desperate when she told me she just needed some time alone… She doesn’t deserve him laying into her.
Plus I can’t be sure of what I might do to Sullivan if I see him try.
I sat in a dark corner of that bar for fifty-seven minutes last night, watching her with that guy, Julian. She has no idea how much danger she could have gotten into. She has a smart mouth, but any person with a bit of strength could lift her off her feet and take her. She wouldn’t know what to do in that situation.
I lift my mug and make myself drink before I grind my teeth so hard they’ll break.
The sound of Molly’s giggles floats over. “Den-va?” she calls.
I turn and am captured by bright blue innocent eyes.
“You okay, Mol?”
“Come play with us.”
Sullivan smirks. “You’ve been summoned.”
“Denver’s coming, Sweetheart,” Sullivan replies as he types into his laptop on the kitchen counter.
I rise from my seat and take the gun from my belt, removing the magazine, before handing it to him discreetly. He takes both pieces from the room to put in the safe inside his office.
“What are we playing?” I ask as I walk over to join them.
Molly beams as I crouch.
“You go there.” She points to a spot on the cream rug behind Sinclair. “You a lion.”
My eyes flick to meet Sinclair’s.
“Sleeping lions,” she explains. “One of us is the hunter, and the rest are lions. The hunter has to wake the lions up. They can’t touch them, but they can whisper things like jokes to make them laugh.”
“Got it,” I reply as Molly tugs on my jacket sleeve.
I lie down behind Sinclair as instructed.
“Close your eyes,” Molly says.
