This was better than questions. Out here, he could even ignore the questions he was asking himself.
The patio door cracked open, ending his peace.
“Of course this is where you went,” Elin’s voice carried to him.
He didn’t look up right away. If he had to be interrupted, at least it was Elin.
They’d formed a solid friendship in the short time she’d been here. He liked her easy, carefree manner, and she claimed to appreciate that he didn’t fill the pauses in their conversations with unnecessary chatter.
Her quiet footsteps crossed the pavers, and she stopped a few steps away.
“You hiding?”
“I’m working. Somebody has to keep everyone fed. On a SEAL team, food boosts morale.”
“So you’re hiding.”
That earned her a glance. She propped a hip against the counter, one of the enormous cardigans she was so fond of wearing, pulled over her hands, hair tucked behind her ears. She reminded him—annoyingly—of one of his cousins. The one who never pushed too hard but always noticed when he was off.
“Thought you were busy working on the op,” he said.
“We’ve got a working framework. I’m waiting on some responses before I move forward.”
He didn’t look up from the toppings he was sprinkling over the dough. He didn’t ask questions—he waited for orders.
Before either of them could say more, two of the guys walked out. Mason made a beeline to Elin and slipped an arm around her waist. She leaned into him without missing a beat. Angelo Ash—the rookie—grabbed a bottled water from the fridge.
For a moment, no one spoke. The wood crackled and popped in the oven, nearly hot enough to fire the pizza.
Ash took a swig, his stare steady on Sinner. The questions were there, simmering just beneath the surface. At least Ash had the restraint to keep them quiet.
Mason didn’t. “So. Quantico?”
He forced his lips to quirk at one corner in a smile he didn’t feel. “What happens in the field stays in the field.”
Elin leaned over to snag a slice of bell pepper. “Doesn’t seem like your secret stayed in the field.”
A grunt was his only response. What was there to say to that? He slid the pizza into the oven.
Ash replaced the cap on the bottle and set it on the counter. “I knew more than a few suits in the FBI. Lots of ego there. I can see why Charlie is a better fit.”
“Yup.” He pulled another dough round toward him and began tossing it.
He didn’t have more to say on the topic, and there wasn’t time anyway. The door opened, and Con beckoned for him to follow.
With an internal groan at being pulled away from his task twice that day, he set the tossed dough on the next stone.
Elin stepped closer. “Go on, Zaddy. I’ve got it from here.”
Not even the nickname the women of the house had graced him with could make Sinner smile right now.
Wiping his hands on a towel, he gave her a quick nod and followed Con into the house. The conversation in the kitchen stopped as he passed through.
Con strode into the war room, and Sinner entered on his heels. Dante was behind his laptop, and Opal sat near him, wearing that same aloof expression from before.
For someone who appeared so detached, her stare still locked with his the instant he sat down.
Con got right down to business. “Dante, tell us what you and Elin compiled.”
