Her throat tightened again, and she hated it.
She couldn’t stand here and let her mind spiral. She couldn’t afford to.
She forced herself back into the mission.
“I’m hungry,” she said, because hunger was easy to fix.
Sinner held her gaze for a beat, clearly noting the redirect but not calling her on it.
He just nodded once. “We can go out.”
She flicked a look at him. Going out meant acting like husband and wife.
It also meant scoring drugs.
That she could do. Families, not so much.
She lifted her chin, her armor sliding back into place. She switched off the steamer, leaving the clothes for now. “Ready to do this?”
He pushed off the bed. “I’m ready.”
Opal found that she believed him. Not because she trusted easily.
But she got the feeling that her new partner just might have her back. Time would tell, wouldn’t it?
SIX
The restaurant wasn’t chosen for the food—it was chosen because they knew Cipher’s people watched it.
The place was loud in the way that people looked for when they didn’t want to hear their own thoughts. Booths packed tight. A bar that had seen too many bad nights, and a jukebox playing nostalgic music.
As they walked to the table, a lot of eyes followed them. Exactly what they needed when they settled into their roles.
Sinner slid into the seat first, careful to move slow and favoring his back, especially as he sat. Opal slipped in across from him, and though she pretended that all her focus was on her husband, Sinner could see her eyes darting around the room, taking note of the exits.
She looked like she’d done this before. He, however, didn’t have an inner addict. What he had were memories.
Chicago, before Quantico, before Blackout. Men hunched over tables like this one, fingers twitching and eyes glassy. He remembered the smell of sweat and chemical sweetness, the way their bodies seemed to sag under the weight of addiction. He remembered how desperation hollowed people out.
He called on those memories and let them sit behind his eyes. Neither of them spoke as they drank in the atmosphere and read the laminated menu.
The server stepped up to their table, the kid carefree in a way young Sinner had never been.
“What’ll it be?”
Opal looked up at the server—and shocked Sinner by smiling.
He gaped at her, unable to tear his stare away if he tried. The first minute he set eyes on her, he recognized she was attractive, but in a cold, aloof, hands-off way that deterred any compliments.
This version of Opal made him forget to breathe. Her pale skin spattered with too many freckles and her black eyes were transformed by a smile that drew his attention to the sweet bow of her lips. They weren’t fake and overly plump like people on TV. She didn’t wear lipstick but her lips were naturally pink, like a rose kissed by frost, and when she smiled, it touched her eyes.
Christ.
The last thing he needed to do was feel this brand of attraction when they had to share one bed in…oh, three hours or so.
He watched her mouth but had no idea what she was saying until suddenly she turned her soft smile onhim—and put her hand on his wrist.
Electricity zapped from her hand, shooting up his arm.
