“Yes. Because you’re going out in the field and I want it finished.”
He huffed a laugh. “I’m not going to die.”
She looked at him hard. “That’s not the reason.”
“Then what is?”
She stepped closer, pitching her voice lower. “It’s partly Con’s idea to do this tonight.”
“I’m listening.”
“Con trusts you to tattoo me. It shows that you’re in control and have precision in everything you do. You’re well-rounded.”
“Thanks, but I’m not trying to get into college here.”
She sent a glance at the open door. “You’re going on an op with a woman who trusts no one.”
“Okay, but wouldn’t it work better if she was here to see it?”
Sophie’s eyes flashed. “I told her where to be.”
Con glanced over from the bar, eyebrow raised. Con’s strategic mind didn’t stop at mission planning. The man orchestrated people just as carefully.
He traded a long look with Con. “Fine,” he conceded.
Sophie bounced a little in excitement, then rushed behind the bar to produce his tattoo kit. A bunch of people drifted over to watch as he set up with the same careful ritual he used in Chicago—clean surfaces, gloved hands, ink caps aligned, new needle in place.
Con hovered near the woman he loved. “You don’t need a template?”
He shook his head. “I freehand.”
Con gave him a stare that meant if he had to look at Sinner’s mistake every time he touched Sophie, Sinner might be a few teeth lighter.
Sophie stretched out on a padded massage table stolen from one of the upstairs rooms, wearing a workout top with her ribs bared.
He looked down at her. “You sure you won’t change your mind about the ribs? It’s going to hurt like a bitch.”
She set her jaw as if daring the needle to hurt her. “I’m tough.”
He chuckled. “I believe you. And you’re sure about the design?”
“Totally.”
Halfway through the first line, he felt the air change. His instincts were honed enough to know that someone new entered the space.
Sinner lifted his gaze.
Opal stood just inside the entrance, her body going utterly still, like she’d walked into something she hadn’t expected. Her reaction lasted less than a second before she locked it down, shoulders easing, expression smoothing into the neutrality she wore like armor.
Too smooth.
Sinner returned his attention to the ink, his hand steady, his breathing even, but the moment was sharp in his mind.
Whatever she’d just seen had caught her off balance.
And sooner or later, he was going to figure out why.
* * * * *
