Page 65 of Sinner’s Game

Not of the day that’s head of us and the rendezvous with Mr. White. But of the reality that once this is all over, Ronan will be stepping back into his life, and I’ll be going back to mine. Each to our opposite corners. Alone.

I opened that door. I told him I could play by his rules. Not needing commitment—not even wanting it. And I meant it in the moment. I wanted him, after all.

But now I’m wondering if I was a fool. Because how on earth am I ever going to get this man out of my system?

I sit up with a sigh, then hear Ronan’s voice filtering in from the main living area. He’s probably on the phone, doing whatever it is that he’s doing to make sure I’m safe.

Right. The fake me. The dead landlord. The sketchy meeting in just a few hours.

I have a lot to worry about other than where Ronan and I go from here.

First and foremost, I have to get through this day.

I’m not sure what a high-end assassin would wear, but I don’t have a lot of options, anyway. I do have a sundress and a thin sweater to cover my shoulders. That seems reasonable enough. I figure any self-respecting assassin is going to try to blend in, and what’s more blendy than a sundress in a beach town?

I lay it out on the bed, then head to the bathroom for a long, hot shower, part of me hoping that Ronan will finish his call and join me. I know I shouldn’t be disappointed when he doesn’t, but I am.

When I’m at the point of risking that my skin stays permanently pruney, I get out, then wrap myself in the hotel robe before I head into the other room for coffee. He’s still on the phone, but his wide smile and the heated twinkle in his eye erases my lingering angst, promising good things to come later. A reward for surviving this day.

Emotionally, I mean. Because I’m really, really not thinking about the possibility that I’m putting my life in danger by pretending to be my double.

I turn on the tea kettle for me, then refill Ronan’s coffee cup, earning me a wide smile.

“That’s good. Yeah, I want at least three hours lead time. … I don’t want to take any chances. … Okay. Terrific. … See you at the rendezvous.”

He ends the call, takes the coffee from my hand, then sets it on the counter before pulling me into his arms. He’s dressed only in sweatpants, and I press my hands to his bare chest, remembering the way he felt against me last night.

I can’t help but touch him. More than that, I can’t help but wish we could go back to last night. I would much rather lose myself in his arms than go on this particular mission. I admire what he and Devlin and all the other Angels do, but that’s not a world I ever wanted to be part of.

How ironic that I’m now right in the middle of that particular brand of chaos.

“I woke up without you.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I wince. I hadn’t intended to say that.

He chuckles. “Nova called. She wanted to check on our timeline. Make sure everything’s in place. She’s exceptionally thorough.”

“I like that in her. Exceptional thoroughness today sounds like a really good plan.”

He cups my head, then brushes a kiss across my lips. My whole body seems to go soft, and all I want is to drag him back into the bedroom so that I can lose myself.

“Later,” he says, squeezing my ass and making me wish I hadn’t bothered with the stupid robe. “Unless you want to join me in the shower?”

“Tempting,” I admit, wishing I’d waited. “But I think one today was enough. I’m going have some tea and get dressed.”

As he heads into his bathroom, I slip an Earl Grey teabag into a cup of hot water, then head back into the bedroom. I shimmy into my dress, slide my arms into the sweater, and slip my feet into the white flats that I brought with me.

Even though we shared my bed last night, Ronan is showering in the room that is technically his side of the suite. That means my bathroom is free, and I go in there to put on my makeup. I don’t tend to wear a lot, but I lay it on heavy today. I’m not Brandy, after all. I’m a badass assassin, and that requires a makeover. Honestly, I wish I’d brought a black tank top and leather pants.

The latter, however, would have required a shopping spree.

Less than an hour later, I’m back in Ronan’s Range Rover and fighting my nerves as we head south. The meeting place is an abandoned hotel at Sandy Point, a beachfront area about fifteen miles from the Laguna Cortez city limits.

For decades, a high-end resort had been located there, but the main building was destroyed in a fire about three years ago. Apparently, there had been financial shenanigans, followed by an arson investigation and some arrests.

It’s still tied up in litigation, and the property is essentially abandoned. The beach stays empty, too. Unlike the better beaches to the north and south, the waves on this stretch of the coast aren’t great for surfing, and there’s no reef to make it of interest to divers, either.

The resort’s restaurant shut down as well, even though it wasn’t damaged in the fire, and without that draw, there isn’t much reason for anyone to come to this stretch of beach, not with Laguna Cortez so close to the north and Dana Point just a short drive to the south.

Bottom line, it’s a terrible location for any kind of coastal recreation.