She was in the program. Witness protection.
And from a young age.
The picture came into focus all at once. Her caution, her precision, the way she was always measuring the distance to the nearest exit. She hadn’t learned to be safe—she’d learned to survive.
Something inside him shifted. What she must have gone through…
She knocked on the door. “Sinclair?”
“Just a minute.”
He finished reading the last of the file, letting the weight of it settle. People in WitSec didn’t trustanybody.But to make this work, he needed to show her that she could trusthim.
Another knock followed, firmer this time. “We’re going to have to make some rules.”
He slid the phone into his pocket.
She pounded on the door hard. “Christ, Sinclair! At least do a courtesy flush!”
A grin stretched over his face as he realized what she thought was taking so long.
Except he wasn’t quite composed enough to face her yet. Now he saw the fractures she hid from the world.
He knew how she got here too. Someone named Smith was probably her only ally in the world.
Sinner knew one thing with absolute certainty. Whatever happened, he would make damn sure she came out of this op intact because he’d bet money on the fact few others ever had.
Even if he had to burn his cover—and himself—to make it happen.
* * * * *
BUD/S training obviously didn’t teach Navy SEALs that women needed a bathroom after long trips.
Opal’s bladder didn’t care that she was in an extended-stay hotel with one bed and one bathroom and a man on the other side of the door who could probably take apart a rifle blindfolded.
It cared that drive had been long, drinking her morning coffee had been a mistake…and Caius Sinclair had been in the bathroom long enough to raise concern.
She paced between the bed and the dresser, and stopped. She refused to look like she was anxious, even about needing the bathroom. Needing anything was a weakness, and Opal didn’t do weakness.
She shifted from foot to foot, glaring at the door. “Sinclair.” Her voice was flat.
No answer.
She pulled in a fortifying breath, then raised her voice. “Use the fan! For the love of God, hurry up.”
A beat of silence followed. Finally, the lock clicked.
The door opened and he stepped out like he hadn’t been in there a good twenty minutes.
She swept her gaze over him, searching for a sign that he’d taken a quick shower. But his hair was dry and in its usual strict style. That bit of hair that made her fingers twitch to touch it back in the “casino” was tucked neatly in line with the rest.
His expression didn’t give anything away, but he did that thing again—that deep dive into her like he could read her.
Which he couldn’t. No one could.
She lifted her chin. “Finally.”
His mouth twitched as if he found her annoyance entertaining, and he waved a hand at the bathroom door.
