They both knew it wasn’t the name she was born with but one adopted years later when she entered WitSec, and kept when she went into Project Lazarus.
Sinner had been fresh out of high school when he learned about the program. They took people who were stripped of their identities and used it to their advantage.
“Got it.” Leo’s voice was a little shredded.
“Thanks. I’m fond of you too.”
After another pulse of silence, the anxiety in Leo’s voice eased. “You ever use the skills I taught you?”
“If you’re asking if I can still make a damn good pizza, yeah. In fact, I’m making deep dish tonight.”
Leo snorted. “Deep dish, huh? Damn. You really like this woman.” To him, creating a deep-dish pizza was a labor of love.
He found himself smiling. “I do.”
“You know, I made one for your mother once.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“She turned me down.”
They shared a laugh, the sound wrapping around Sinner like one of Leo’s rare hugs he only gave out once a year on Christmas, along with a twenty-dollar bonus in Sinner’s paycheck.
Then the line went dead.
Sinner stood there for a moment longer, his mind made up. The oven in the kitchenette was apartment-sized but adequate for what he had in mind for dinner tonight. After walking the newfoundland, Opal would have worked up an appetite for Uncle Leo’s best deep-dish pizza.
He threw himself into the process, his hands moving from muscle memory while his mind worked through everything that passed between him and Uncle Leo…and him and Opal.
The ingredients weren’t top quality, coming from a cheap local grocery store rather than imported like in Leo’s shop. But he could work with them.
The dough rose. The sauce simmered. The domestic smell filled the room. Leo was right—this meant more than just pizza.
When Opal returned, she paused in the doorway, gaze darting straight to the pan cooling on the counter.
She closed the door and reached behind her to twist the lock without tearing her stare away from the food. “Is that deep-dish pizza?”
He studied her hard, from the strands of her hair the wind had lightly mussed to the knees of her pants—intact, no bloodstains. He nodded once.
“I’ve never had deep dish.”
“It’s the least I can do. You’re burning a lot of calories walking that dog. By the way, you never said the dog’s name.”
“Goliath.”
He chuckled. “Of course it is.”
Her own smile started in her eyes, lighting the black depths with a glimmer, then brightening her entire beautiful face with a glow that stopped the air in his lungs.
They ate at the small table, shoulders brushing when they shifted. They talked about the next check-in with Con. He told her about the guy on the neighboring balcony watching him pop a pill before the cops carted him off to jail.
In exchange, she told him that Goliath was much tamer today, actually only dragging her around half a block before he began to heel.
She chewed a bite, looking thoughtful. “We need to make more moves. Cipher’s never going to contact me if I sit inside eating pizza.”
He arched a brow. “I don’t see a problem with sitting around eating pizza.”
“It’s delicious.” She studied the thick cheese and toppings. “The best I’ve had.” She flicked her gaze to his, and a faint pink blush climbed her cheeks as the words took on a whole other meaning.
