Chapter 15 Fink
Fink
Despite having just gotten out of the shower, Fink wasn’t relaxed. The opposite. He’d revealed himself to be a liability. She knew exactly what he looked like. Every identifying mark on his body she’d seen, but that wasn’t what had his heart hammering in his chest.
The police had arrived earlier than he’d expected. Though to be fair, morning was long gone. The day had sped by pretty quickly. Maybe they were on time.
Either way, he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was that they’d shown up.
To his delight, Sydney had been fucking excellent. Almost like a professional.
She controlled that interview. Somehow, she didn’t allow them to direct the conversation. They didn’t get a chance to corner her or knock her off-balance. She led them down a path of suspicion and away from her.
Fink wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about her ability to deceive or be impressed by it. That type of skill wasn’t something anyone could master without a story. How had she gotten so good at that?
This woman became more and more of an enigma the more he learned about her.
“Who are you?” he murmured to himself after she closed the door.
Still wearing a towel around his waist, he stared at the wall. Through it, he’d heard the entire conversation. It couldn’t have gone better had he scripted it himself.
Sydney was marvelous in a thousand ways.
Slowly, he crept toward the only window in the bedroom. Careful to keep himself out of view, he shifted the blinds ever so slightly in time to watch the nondescript sedan pull out of the parking lot.
They were gone.
The coast was clear.
Dropping the towel, he swiped the flannel pajama pants off the bed and tugged them up his legs. While he would’ve preferred some briefs, those were saturated with dry blood. He couldn’t take the chance of walking around with Grant’s DNA on him any longer.
Exiting the bedroom, he found Sydney sitting on the floor with her knees up against her chest and her back against the door. Staring straight ahead, he couldn’t read her expression.
Okay, maybe she hadn’t done as well as he thought. This wasn’t the posture of someone who had deceived the law before.
“You alright?” he asked from a distance.
Slowly, she turned toward him. “I just lied to the police.”
Interesting that killing a guy left her giddy, but fibbing seemed to bother her.
He filed that away as one of her many endearing quirks.
“Actually”—she cocked her head to the side—“I was entirely dishonest.”
He narrowed his eyes. What did that mean? He’d heard everything she said.
“I spoke the truth,” she said, as though she were working it out aloud. “But not what they wanted to know.”
He nodded. That was exactly what he’d hope she’d do. Keeping to facts was a hell of a lot easier than making shit up. Consistency was key. If everything she said was true, then it would check out. There’d be no reason to investigate her inaccuracies.
“Do you think they’ll be back?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on whether any of the leads you gave them pan out.”
She snorted. “How can they? We did the thing.”
He grinned and went farther into the living room. “Thing?”
She peeled herself off the floor.
The two of them met between the television and the ottoman. “How would anything I said check out?”
Glancing upward, he considered it and bobbed his head left and right. “Well, someone had to hire me.”
“You’re not a vigilante?”
He laughed. “No. This isn’t a hobby. It’s my job.”
“Does it pay well?”
He eyed her cautiously.
“I’m sort of out of work,” she reminded him.
Where was she going with this?
“I get that there is a lot of risk involved.”
He arched a brow.
“But I seemed to have handled that well.” She gestured to the door behind her. “So, I mean, while I’m not the best, obviously, I could learn a lot, but I’m no slouch.”
“What are you saying?” he finally asked.
Her eyes glittered, and his heart swelled. She was adorable.
His cock twitched. There was nothing more attractive than how excited she looked in that moment. It was almost as hot as when she was covered in blood in her clown costume.
Damn. There was definitely something wrong with Fink.
No fucking shit.
“Do you think I could do what you do?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t give him a chance.
“I could be good at it.” Her smile grew as she spoke. “I keep waiting to feel bad about Mitchell, but I don’t.”
A lack of remorse was helpful in his line of work.
“If anything, I’m over the moon.”
“What?” Another oddity about her he found charming.
“There are very few people who can do what I did. It was invigorating.” She practically vibrated before him. “I want to do it again. Not to Mitchell, obviously, but to other bad people.”
“So, you’re going to be a vigilante?” he asked.
She scoffed and slapped his chest playfully. “No. I have bills to pay. We can be partners.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I work alone.”
“Not anymore,” she said defiantly.
“Excuse me?” He’d walked right into that one. This woman was a master at controlling narratives. He had to step up his game and pay more attention.
“As of last night, you’ve got, at the very least, a sidekick.”
Where did she find the balls? Her bravado shouldn’t be this much of a turn-on.
“We get along well together. I’m pretty sure I have a lot to learn, but you could teach me.”
He opened his mouth to protest.
“I want to do what you do.”
He would say it wasn’t for everyone, but that seemed moot. She had already proved she could kill without a conscience once. She didn’t like her boss. Would it be the same with a person with whom she didn’t have a history? “What makes you think you could repeat that performance?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she challenged.
Her confidence had his dick rock-hard. She did it for him.
“You knew Grant,” he tried.
She waved a hand, brushing it off. “Then shouldn’t I feel bad? I mean, I worked for the guy for a year. While he was a tremendous dickhead, I never thought about killing him until the opportunity presented itself.”
He pointed a finger. “See! You don’t think like a killer.”
“Then teach me how to.”
As much as he wanted to argue with her, he couldn’t fathom how to. Any logic he had against it fled his brain. The only excuse that came to mind was lame.
“Murder for hire is not that simple.”
She peered at him full of suspicion. “Why not?”
“People employ me.”
“Can’t you vouch for me?” she suggested. “Isn’t that how this works?”
Sort of. He couldn’t really argue with her logic, but he had to. For reasons he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I don’t know you. How am I supposed to recommend you? That’s putting my reputation on the line.”
“Then learn about me.”
She didn’t understand. The circumstances of his profession weren’t as black and white as she saw them.
He shook his head and stepped away. “I don’t do partnerships.”
He had to get out of this. The time had come to go.
“You do now.” She followed.
The apartment was essentially a shoebox. Fleeing to another room wasn’t exactly an option. “When you take on people, they become liabilities.”
“Rude.” She scurried around him and got in his path. “I think I’ve proven I’m trustworthy.”
He shrugged but couldn’t meet her eye.
In his bones, he believed in her. Fink couldn’t explain it, but he knew she wouldn’t betray him. She hadn’t yet, but it could only be a matter of time. He couldn’t be this careless and flippant. There were too many risks involved.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” she offered. “Just teach me.”
Vrr. Vrr.
The vibration of a cell phone on the table drew both of their attention.
Vrr. Vrr.
Saved by the bell. Or buzz. Whatever. He had to get out of this conversation. “I have to take that.”