By the time Sinner boarded the bus headed to the construction site on Monday morning, he was already irritated.
Not because of the noise or the press of bodies, or even because public transportation meant too many unpredictable variables—though it was reason enough to dislike it. But their midnight run to a bad part of town didn’t end in any drug deals.
Sunday, they had the same bad luck. Each time he tried to boost her morale, her mood darkened more.
He wasn’t surprised when Opal stood at the door that morning, pulling on her boots, the ends of her hair still damp from the shower, and told him she intended to head a few blocks farther east into a more dangerous section of town. The places where people didn’t ask questions if you kept your voice low and your eyes down.
To get what she needed, she needed to be seen, she told him.
He knew it was true, but he didn’t like it.
He wrapped his fingers around the pole as the bus lurched into motion, letting his body sway boneless in an act he was getting goddamn tired of. He stared out the window in an unfocused way, jaw tense enough to snap tendons.
Letting his partner operate independently was standard. Encouraged, even.
But letting someone he cared about step into unknown danger without him ran against every instinct drilled into him since BUD/S training.
Stay together. Cover your six. Control the variables.
He wasn’t controlling shit when he was on this bus and she was out there alone.
He got off at his stop and took off walking toward his job site. The city blocks stretched out here, giving him a little room to breathe.
His phone vibrated, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Glancing around to ensure there weren’t people within earshot, he took the call. “Franklin,” he gave his cover name.
Dante’s voice came through first, rapid and energized. “Morning, sunshine. You’re trending.”
“That so?” Sinner kept his tone flat.
“Elin and I have been monitoring chatter on the dark web since early morning. Cipher’s network is moving in.”
Elin cut in, her Swedish accent crisp over the line. “Your backgrounds are being checked. Financial records hacked, employment histories opened. Some photos were scraped from social media. And they got you on closed-circuit camera popping a pill and sleeping on the job.”
Dante cut in. “Cipher’s going to make contact soon.”
Sinner felt a flicker of heat in his chest at the mention of the terrorist.
Fucking fantastic. The last thing he wanted was Opal out there—bait for one of the biggest psychopaths the world had ever seen.
The answer had been blazing a trail through his brain, but when he let himself say it aloud, it scared the hell out of him. “Cipher won’t contact me. He’ll go straight for her.”
“Exactly,” Dante said.
“Which means if this works, this could all be over sooner than we expected.” Sinner’s tone was steel over gravel.
Another bus rolled past. Aware that people could be watching, he exaggerated his limp and continued toward thework site, raising a hand to scratch at his skin like he was in the throes of withdrawal.
Sinner hated the hotel, the job, the act—but he didn’t want the op to end.
He loved the way Opal challenged him, the way she viewed the world one way while trusting him with little pieces of herself every day.
He…loved Opal.
Dante’s voice sounded piercing. “Sinclair. You sure you’re in this?”
“I’ll finish it.”
