Chapter 9 Fink
Fink
This was bad. There was no way around it. Fink had fucked up. Pacing the small bedroom, he pulled the burner flip phone from his pocket and called the only number in it. With unease coiling in his gut, he brought the cell to his ear and listened to the rings.
“You’re late,” AJ, his handler, answered without a greeting. “Getting slow in your old age?”
Fink was thirty-five. He was by no means ancient, and if he wasn’t in a shit situation, he might actually banter with his old friend but not today. “I have a complication.”
Silence.
“I did it,” he quickly clarified. “It just wasn’t as in and out as I would’ve liked.”
Fink scrubbed his hand through the clumps of blue temporary hair dye. If he wasn’t wearing gloves, the sticky goo would annoy his fingers.
AJ still said nothing.
“I have a witness.” Well, not exactly. She was more than that.
“And you didn’t eliminate them?” AJ snapped.
Fink glanced toward the wall where he’d left the woman with whom he’d shared the kill. She’d told him her name. What was it again? Sydney. That was right. What a lovely moniker that hinted at the spunky quirkiness she embodied.
For half a second, he smiled, reminiscing about her grinning at him with excitement in her eyes after she’d stabbed Grant.
Were he thinking properly, he would’ve killed her, but she captivated him within seconds of meeting.
Logically, he should’ve. Observers weren’t permitted in his business. The easiest way to handle someone catching a murder in progress was to kill them too. Except she wasn’t a random bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. She’d assisted in the death of Grant.
They had bonded.
And fucked.
He ran his gloved fingers across his forehead. “Complicated.”
“There’s that word again.”
Yeah. Fink was well aware.
“You don’t do complicated.”
Apparently, he did now.
“Did they outrun?”
“No.”
As a matter of fact, Sydney stuck by his side. She cuddled him. She made his exit that much easier without a single complaint.
“Did your gun jam?” AJ asked, obviously searching for a logical excuse.
There wasn’t one.
Fink huffed. Guns were the weapon of choice for people in his profession, and he had used them from time to time, but he preferred things to be a bit more personal. These people earned their deaths. They shouldn’t be awarded such quick ones.
There was something immensely satisfying in watching them suffer for their transgressions. So, if he could avoid it, he didn’t put a bullet in them. There were far better ways to dispatch someone from existence.
“Fink.” AJ’s voice took on a warning tone.
“She helped me,” Fink admitted.
“Helped?” AJ repeated. “I wasn’t aware you required assistance.”
“She stabbed him in the neck.”
“So, she did your job for you?” His handler chuckled on the other end. “Someone finally beat you to it?”
Fink furrowed his brows. That hadn’t even occurred to him. Had a rival taken up his contract? It’d happened before, but Fink had always been the first to make the kill. He’d never been bested.
Was Sydney like him?
That would explain a whole hell of a lot.
Then again, she didn’t give off professional vibes. She reminded him of an overactive puppy, wagging her tail and peeing on the carpet. Though he supposed her performance could’ve been an act.
He needed to learn more about this woman.
“Were we competing with anyone else?” he asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” AJ said as he clicked away on his keyboard on the other end of the call. “But I can look into it.”
Fink nodded even though his handler wouldn’t be able to see him. “For now, I think I should lie low, stick with her.”
“Why?”
“If she wasn’t hired,” Fink began, “and she was merely a pissed-off employee, I want to make sure that when the police come around to question her…”
“Just shoot her and get it over with.”
Easier said than done. He’d fucked her. What a rookie move. So unless he scrubbed her inside and out, he’d left evidence on her. He couldn’t risk the cops connecting him to anything related to Grant.
“I can’t.” The words left Fink’s mouth before he could contemplate their impact.
He had to come up with a valid reason for that. Think fast.
Lying to AJ wasn’t something he did. Starting now wasn’t a good idea.
“Not until the cops come and interview her,” he said and nodded to himself. “That way they can cross her off their suspect list, and I’ll be in the clear. Besides, she could have connections. I think we should investigate her a little more.”
Killing a rival wasn’t unheard of, but it was considered bad form. Especially in times of peace. He didn’t want to be the cause of a war.
AJ knew that. “Fine, get me her details. I’ll see what I can find.”
Relief swirled in Fink’s chest. In this snapshot in time, Sydney got to breathe another day.
“I don’t like complications,” his handler reminded him.
No one did.
“I’ll take care of it,” Fink said before he closed the phone.
Staring at the wall with several black-and-white photos of Paris on it, he tapped the cell against his chin. This was supposed to be his specialty.
All he had to do was figure out what the hell that meant when it came to Sydney. The quirky woman who helped him kill a despicable human, fucked him, and invited him into her home without question was an enigma he was desperate to solve.
She was an odd duck. There was something wrong with her, but he liked it. From the little he’d gathered about her, they were the same kind of weird. He’d met no one like that before, and he doubted he ever would again.
All the other contract killers he knew were cold, calculating, and antisocial. He fit that bill as well. Compartmentalizing emotions did that to someone. There was no way to be bubbly and outgoing in his field. The key to surviving was to blend in and go unnoticed.
Sydney commanded attention. She filled the room with a type of joy he’d never experienced before.
And he liked it.
He wanted more of it.
Tucking the phone back in his pocket, he licked his lips. What the hell was he supposed to do about her?