She eyed him. “Get off my car. You’re leaving grease stains on the finish.”
He pushed off it and took a quick jump-step toward her. She’d seen men make that move time and again in her life and she held her ground now—just as Smith taught her.
“What did you say to me, lady?”
She didn’t shift her stare from his when she spoke to his friend. “Tell your sidekick to get out of my face.”
The guy kneeling next to his tire chuckled. “Leave the lady alone, Andre. Don’t you see she’s too good for you?”
Skirting around them, she slipped into her car and started the engine. The dollar store sat two blocks away, the kind of place that smelled like plastic and disappointment. When she walked in no one looked at her. People came in, grabbed what they needed and left.
She located the few things she came for and paid in cash. Out of habit, she declined the receipt.
When she got back to the hotel, the guys were gone, the car on a block and the tire missing. She entered the hotel room and locked the door behind her.
Sinner glanced up from arranging snacks on the table. “They give you trouble?”
So hehadbeen watching.
The thought sent a shiver through her, sinking low in her belly…then lower, between her thighs.
“I handled it.”
The faint crease between his brows wasn’t aimed at the snacks he arranged on a paper plate, but he didn’t question her further.
She set the bag on the table and began unloading it, lining things up without really thinking about it. “What’s with all the food? We just had pizza.”
“Need snacks for poker.”
When she set out the deck of cards, his lips curved. “No poker chips? This must be strip poker.”
She snorted and reached into the bag, producing a roll of cheap plastic chips. His smile shifted to surprise.
“You came prepared.”
“Always.” She dragged out a chair and sank into it. He placed his chair opposite her and picked up the cards. As he shuffled with practiced hands, she watched his fingers. Long, callused. Capable and beautiful, too.
There was a scar running down the side of one index finger, white and jagged. The backs of his knuckles were sprinkled with dark hair.
He was a good teacher, explaining the basic rules before announcing that she’d learn best by diving right into playing.
He popped a pretzel in his mouth, crunching as he studied his cards. “You’re picking this up really fast. Sure you didn’t know how to play before?”
She laid a card down, watching his face for a twitch of an eyelid or the flick of a brow. He gave nothing away.
“Smith gave me skills. He made me play memory games and he’d drill me.” Some of those moments rolled through her mind. “He’d make me tell him what people were wearing after they walked by. I had no choice but to be observant. I guess those skills are helping me kick your ass at cards.”
With a flourish, she laid down a spread that made Sinner…Sinclair…Caius…grin. He didn’t say a word as he slid a stack of chips toward her.
“What else did Smith teach you?” His tone was casual, but she sensed the restraint behind them.
Opal considered deflecting. Instead, she answered him.
“How to assemble and disassemble guns. How to shoot behind the motel. Knife skills. Mind games. He’d let me see a room for a split second before cutting the lights and making me navigate my way out. But he made it fun, not scary.”
A vision of her friend rose up in her mind, so real she felt like she could reach out and touch him. A small knot formed in her chest, so she turned her attention to shuffling the cards and watching them ripple in her hands.
Her fingers stilled even though she didn’t direct them to. “I miss him,” she said quietly.
