His footsteps retreated.
Sinner remained slumped in the chair, head down, body loose, but anger burned painfully in his chest. Of all the roles to play, being weaker than his partner wasn’t his top choice.
He let another few minutes pass, then gave a jerk like he was trying to surface from his drugged haze.
Opal shot out of her chair and looped an arm around his shoulders. “There you go.” Relief threaded into her tone as if she’d been genuinely worried. “Come on. Easy.”
He lifted his head slowly, blinking at the world that he pretended had tilted sideways.
“Sorry, baby,” he slurred lightly. “Pills hit me hard.”
She pulled him up with more strength than he expected from a woman as small as her. “It’s fine,” she said quickly. “Let’s just go.” She darted a look around and settled on the server. “Can you meet me at the front with the check?”
Hating every minute of this charade, Sinner let Opal guide him. He leaned into her just enough to sell it, enjoying the feel of her next to him, while being careful not to actually put his weight on her.
She paid and thanked the server. Then she apologized to several people they passed on the way to the exit.
Outside, the night air hit him, sharp and clean.
He stayed in character all the way back to the car, stumbling once and letting her steady him. Her fingers dug into his arm as she let him drop into the passenger seat.
She was quiet on the drive back. When they reached the hotel, he kept up the act until they got inside the door.
Her face was pale.
“You okay?” His tone was normal once more, and she startled like she’d forgotten he could snap back into himself so fast.
“Yeah.” She nodded immediately with an air of nonchalance that sounded forced.
She turned and strode into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with more force than necessary for the cheap hollow door.
He dropped to the bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped loosely.
She was shaken, and he knew why. She’d seen things like this before.
Things that haunted her.
* * * * *
Opal had never been a great sleeper. She spent too many years waking to her parents arguing and hiding beneath her covers, waiting for some object to smash, so she’d never developed the knack for sleeping through noise.
Later, when her mom worked nights, she was left alone in the motel and never got more than a few fitful minutes at a time.
Until the day when she glanced outside her bedroom window to see a man sitting on the patio. The moonlight washed over his familiar sinewy form, and she’d felt herself relax for the first time she could remember. After that, Smith sat outside her window, never speaking, never knocking. Just watching over her like some hard-ass guardian angel.
Sleeping next to Caius Sinclair offered a different sort of distraction from dreamland. Two pillows lay between them like they’d negotiated a ceasefire. But the barrier didn’t provide privacy.
Every time the man shifted or his breathing changed, her awareness sharpened, yanking her back to the surface before she could drift too deep.
She never expected to get a restful night’s sleep while sharing a bed with a man who was pretending to be her husband, but she was jealous as hell of his ability to pass out.
She pushed onto one elbow to peek over the pillow wall to see him on his back, his rugged features smoothed in a sort of peace she wished she could achieve. Stealing looks at a sleeping man felt wrong, but it was a good time to study him when he wasn’t aware of what she was doing.
He was good-looking in the bad-boy way she hadn’t guessed was her type until being thrown into this op. A shadow of stubble darkened his cheeks and carved jaw. Her fingers twitched towards him without conscious direction, but she pulled them back.
Lowering herself to the mattress again, she closed her eyes, but that didn’t stop her body from aching to know if his beard was rough or soft.
When the alarm went off, she was already awake.
