“Just getting some practice. I’m supposed to be your husband.” He tightened his grip on the bag.
“Who has a back injury,” she snapped, yanking harder.
Con appeared, just like Sinner knew he would. He wouldn’t let any of them go without a final word. “Bring each other back.”
Their small spat over the bag faded. Sinner answered with a quiet, “We will.”
He stepped back, and Opal picked up her bag, nodding once.
There was no winning the argument over the bag. No more one-upping each other. From this point on, they were a team.
They left to more murmured goodbyes and the soft thud of doors closing behind them.
The drive was uneventful. Opal stared out the window, hands folded in her lap, the light kiss of dawn turning her pale skin to ice. She didn’t fidget, and she didn’t fill the silence with empty talk.
Sinner knew how to give people space, so he focused on the road. The open interstate turned into suburbs, then the city.
The extended stay hotel was exactly what it needed to be—forgettable. The parking lot was all cracked pavement with weeds poking up, trying to cling to life. At least the doors and windows looked relatively secure, and the landscaping consisted of only a few sparse shrubs. Not a lot of places for people to jump out and ambush them.
He cut the engine. “Welcome to Chateau Shithole.”
To his shock and pleasure, Opal made a noise, not quite a laugh but a soft puff of air that came close to it.
When he climbed out of the old model car, he made sure to move slow and careful, planting a wince on his face so the world saw a man in pain.
Opal snapped into the role with ease too, hurrying around the car to take his arm to support him. She shouldered both bags that should have been too heavy for her slim build, but she carried them up a flight of stairs to their room like she had trained for it.
Which she had. Maybe even in real life. It was easy to imagine her taking care of a parent or stepping into a caregiver role even at a young age.
Dammit, he needed a few minutes alone to read that file Con sent.
The room was small but serviceable, with a queen bed, a dresser and neutral art.
Opal dropped her bag on the floor and shut the door. “Of course it has one bed.”
Sinner turned to her. “You can take the dresser.”
“It’s fine. I’ll stay packed.” She left her bag by the door.
Exactly where he left his. Because a SEAL was always prepared to bug out at a moment’s notice.
Clearly so was Opal.
He twitched his head toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to—”
She made a face of disgust but said nothing.
He locked himself in the cramped space and opened the file.
There wasn’t a lot of content, but the gaps spoke louder than any details.
Seedy motel upbringing. Inconsistent schooling. No driver’s license. No job history. No college record.
No record of birth.
His breath slowed and his lungs squeezed.
All at once, he knew what made Opal cling to her control with an iron grip.
