Skin Deep

CHAPTER 23

SINCLAIR OPENED THE door the moment she knocked, his relief obvious. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Everything okay?”

Her first reaction was irritation. She barely answered to Terryn, never mind Sinclair. But she quickly bit back a barbed comment. His concern was genuine. She wasn’t used to that from someone she barely knew. Terryn and Cress often expressed concern for her welfare, but it always felt professional, never intimate. Emotional expression was something she avoided. She dropped her duffel on the floor by the door. “Sorry. I had an errand. You should give me a spare key.”

He stepped back, as if embarrassed by his concern, and she regretted not being as responsive. He glanced pointedly at the listening ward on the bookshelf. “Isn’t that rushing things a bit?”

She closed her eyes and examined the essence on the obelisk to confirm that the dampening field remained active. “It’s okay, Jono. The obelisk is jamming. We can talk freely.”

He looked innocent. “Oh. I was.”

She fished in her bag for the two jars from Cress. “You never let up, do you? Even if I was interested, I don’t date colleagues.”

“You went out with me for drinks twice already,” he said.

Laura put the jars on the coffee table and dropped into the armchair. “That was work.”

He grunted. “Really? I didn’t notice you breaking a sweat.”

She chuckled. “Speaking of drinks, do you have any vodka? I need to drink this thing from Cress, and I have a feeling I’m going to need a chaser.”

“Sure. Are you hungry? I can throw something in the microwave,” he asked.

She unscrewed the lid to the jar with the vibrant green liquid. “Not yet, thanks. I’m tired and need to take a bath.”

Sinclair wandered into the kitchen. Jeans and tight T-shirts must be his civilian uniform. Not that I’m complaining, she thought.

As she leaned forward to examine the open jar, she heard the bathwater go on. She sniffed the liquid and decided it might be palatable. Cress made an effort to make her potions inoffensive. Laura sipped it. Not bad, a bit grassy with some mint and menthol. Taking a deep breath, she downed it. It went down thick and slow, but it went down. She smacked her lips at the pasty aftertaste.

Sinclair returned with a beer for himself, handed her a mixed drink. He slid a key across the coffee table. Laura pocketed it without a word and nodded at her glass. “I put some lemonade in it,” he said.

She leaned back in the chair. “Thanks. How are you? Do you need Cress to do anything?”

He sat sideways, dangling his legs over the arm of the other armchair. “I’ve taken harder falls. I think I’ll pass on any more healing.”

She sipped her drink. The alcohol spread across her tongue, washing away whatever was making the sticky sensation in her mouth. “Why? Cress is an excellent healer.”

He exaggerated a shiver. “I appreciate that she took care of my ribs, but when she did it, I felt this sort of desire from her. Like a hunger. No offense if she’s a friend, but I thought it was creepy.”

“She’s a leanansidhe.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really? I thought they were dangerous.”

Laura didn’t want to admit her own occasional discomfort with Cress. “They are. Not Cress, though. She has her… needs under control.”

He took a swig of beer. “Hmm. Yeah, that sounds convincing.” He nudged the unopened jar on the table. “What’s this?”

“For the bath. Some kind of healing agent.”

He picked it up. “I’ll drop it in. Finish your drink.”

He was out of the chair before she could protest. It was a nice gesture, she decided, and she was too tired to make an issue of it. She retrieved her duffel and pulled out her overnight tote bag, a pair of sweatpants, and a T-shirt. One night of sleeping in her clothes was enough. She bumped into Sinclair at the door to the bathroom.

“All yours,” he said, and moved away quickly.

Bubbles filled the tub. Thick towels sat on a wicker hamper, and three lit candles gave a warm glow to the room. She smiled toward the living room. Only Sinclair’s bare feet were visible, propped over the end of the couch.

She closed the bathroom door and stripped out of her clothes. They fell to the floor in a rank heap. As she slipped into the hot water, she groaned with pleasure. Cress was right. It had been a long, smelly day.

Sinclair knocked on the door. “Are you under the bubbles?”

She leaned her head back. “Yes. Thank you. Could you call me in thirty minutes in case I fall asleep?”

Sinclair opened the door.

Surprised, Laura ducked deeper into the water. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He had his beer in one hand and her drink in the other. He set hers on the edge of the tub. Closing the lid on the toilet, he sat and propped his feet on the hamper. “You forgot your drink. I freshened it for you.”

Surrounded by bubbles, hot water, glowing candles, and a strong drink, she decided to be polite instead of annoyed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He gulped some beer. “I wanted to. You saved my life today. I made you a bubble bath. Seems fair.”

She chuckled and lifted her drink. “You did warn me about the spell bomb.”

“Is it me, or was that a crazy stunt you pulled at the fire?”

She tilted her head forward and sipped, being careful not to dislodge any bubbles. “A little. Terryn wasn’t too happy about it. Sometimes you have to take risks to keep your cover.”

“You didn’t say anything to me at the drug raid, you know,” he said. Truth resonated in his words.

“That’s too bad for both of us. I can’t remember if Sanchez said anything, and someone tried to run you off the road for nothing.”

He smiled around the lip of the bottle. “Well, I did get to meet you.”

She let her head drop back against the tub again. “You seem fixated on me. You know that, don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I like your vibe. I don’t feel that often.”

“I have a vibe?”

“Your essence,” he said. “Sometimes essence shapes feel right to me. When I meet someone I also think is good-looking, it’s a combination that’s hard to resist.”

She gave him a sly smile. “What if I were a guy?”

“Then I’d ask you to go bowling,” he said without missing a beat.

She laughed. “You do not bowl.”

He chuckled. “And you’re not a guy.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

He drained his beer. “If you were a guy, you wouldn’t have been tugging at your tight flak jacket in the van the night of the mission. Even with a glamour.”

She flicked soap bubbles at him. “I knew you were staring!”

He flinched and grinned. “So sue me.”

She settled back again. “What’s with all the candles?”

His forehead creased. “What? Don’t you like them?”

She shifted in the water, then darted her eyes to the bubbles to make sure she was covered. “It’s not a guy thing, in my experience.”

His eyebrows went up. “You have a lot of experience with fire giants?”

Laura debated whether to be afraid he was about to announce an ability she wasn’t prepared for. “You have a fire ability?”

He took another swallow of beer. “I wish. They’re for meditation and prayer.”

“Prayer! You’re devout?”

He slowly shook his head. “I am not about to debate jotunn theology with a Celtic druidess.”

She allowed herself a snicker. “Oh, right. Fire and water.”

Silence filled the room. Sinclair sat with an amused expression as he toyed with his beer bottle. She closed her eyes. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll be out in a bit.”

Sinclair didn’t move right away, and she wondered if he were going to push the situation. Instead, she heard the hamper creak as he removed his feet, then the bathroom door close softly.

The water and Cress’s concoction soothed her tired muscles. She wondered how many more layers there were to Sinclair. She liked his look and his manner. Even his constant flirting had its appeal. He seemed almost too good to be real. Which is why you shouldn’t trust him, she thought. If she were working for Blume or Alfrey or whoever, she would do the same thing-seduce, subvert, and deceive. No, despite her attraction, Jonathan Sinclair had to remain at arms length until she knew his full story.

When she stepped out of the bathroom in her sweats and T-shirt, Sinclair was working at his laptop in the study area. He glanced at her in a distracted way, then returned to his screen. She carried her filthy clothes into the living room and stuffed them in the duffel bag. In an inside pocket of the duffel, she tucked the spell-secured case that contained her perfect stone with the Mariel glamour. She wore the stone for the Janice glamour in case she needed to activate it on a moment’s notice.

Clean and relaxed, she finally felt hungry. She went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Despite cluttered shelves, she didn’t see anything to eat as an actual meal. She checked the freezer and found two frozen dinners. “Are you hungry?” she called out.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he replied.

She slid the dinners from their boxes and popped them in the microwave. Sinclair joined her and leaned against the counter near the listening ward. Its essence faded away.

Laura leaned against the opposite counter. “We’re shifting our investigation. Janice Crawford is going on extended sick leave, and you’re taking over.”

He crossed his arms. Her eyes went to the prominent veining on his biceps. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“We want to know who Foyle talks to, where he goes, and anything that strikes you as out of the ordinary,” she said.

“You’re telling me my commanding officer is under suspicion,” he said.

She nodded. “Foyle’s been instrumental in blocking information to InterSec, and you said he pulled back teams at the fire so that the Inverni could get in. That makes him fair game.”

Sinclair rubbed at his crew cut. “I can see that. It puts me in an uncomfortable position.”

Laura snorted. “Welcome to my life.”

“Except, I have nothing to prove you’re the good guys or that I’m legitimately working for you. I’m not stupid. You could be setting me up.”

Laura watched the frozen dinners revolve in the microwave. He had a point. “What can I do to make you trust me, Jono?”

He laughed. “Call off your watchdogs. You can stay, but the tail on me has to go.”

She shook her head. “They’re protecting you.”

“Maybe. They’re also watching. If I’m going to be part of whatever this thing is that I’ve gotten tangled in, I’m going to have to survive on my own. You want trust, and so do I. Trust me to take care of myself without the spies.”

“I’ll talk to Terryn,” she said.

“Good. When you do, tell him Foyle talks to Alfie a lot.”

“His name’s Alfrey,” she said.

She hadn’t corrected him earlier. By the way Sinclair paused, she wondered if he caught it. If he did, he decided not to mention it. “He’s talked to Foyle a number of times about Triad.”

“He’s with Blume’s company?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Used to be a long time ago. They had some kind of falling-out, but Hornbeck’s been trying to get them back together. Alfrey’s consulting or something.”

“Just because Hornbeck or Foyle are involved doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.”

Sinclair frowned knowingly at her. “Oh, I definitely will keep that in mind.”

Laura reddened at the accusation. The microwave bell went off. She hit the door release. “Dinner’s ready.”