Chapter 16 Sydney
Sydney
After Fink swiped the phone from the table, he flicked the fan on in the bathroom before disappearing into her bedroom with the door closed. While she understood he’d done it for privacy, each step still made her scowl. This was her apartment. They were partners!
Mumbling expletives to herself, she did her best to honor his wishes. They were in the middle of a conversation—an important one. Who would call him at this time of day? About what?
Oh.
The lightbulb went on in her head as she mentally replayed their earlier discussion. He worked for someone. Obviously, this murder hadn’t gone to plan. Maybe he was in trouble.
She frowned at the thought. His predicament was her fault.
Sydney hadn’t intended to get him into a jam. Cautiously, she tiptoed down the short hallway. Fink had bat-like hearing. The smallest creak could give her away. But she needed to find out what this call was about.
He might get orders to kill her.
If that were the case, she should be prepared. Glancing over her shoulder, she considered arming herself. Would he do it if his boss told him to?
Her gut said no.
Her heart agreed.
Nodding to herself, she decided her intuition hadn’t steered her wrong yet, so she’d go with it. Fink wouldn’t turn on her, and she wouldn’t do it to him either.
Placing her ear to the door, she strained to understand the whispered tones on the other side. Damn him for speaking so low. She could learn from him. Caution probably kept him alive in his line of work. If she wanted to be a part of it, she should take that to heart.
Straightening her spine and rolling her shoulders back, she granted him some privacy. If she needed to know anything going on with that call, he’d tell her. She should respect him. That would go a lot further with him than snooping.
Besides, she had stuff to attend to. As cute as he looked in her pajama pants, wearing her clothes wasn’t a permanent solution. She should go back to getting the stains out of his suit so she could toss it into the washer.
Though if he got his own attire, he would leave.
Her heart sank.
That was the worst possible thing that could happen.
He was her in to get into the field of murder.
She couldn’t allow him to go without her.
While she’d only had this dream for the past hour, it was her current ambition.
Sydney wanted to be a contract killer. He was the key to that profession.
Going back to wherever he came from without helping her out wasn’t an option. She’d find a way to convince him.
Fink
Having tucked himself into the farthest corner of the room away from the door, Fink placed the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
The fan should be enough to give him privacy, but he had to make sure.
“Sydney Elizabeth Cassidy. Age thirty-one.” AJ read off her date of birth, address, and a series of previous addresses.
“Sounds like her,” Fink confirmed.
“Clean as a whistle,” AJ said. “As an adult, anyway. A few traffic fines. Speeding and failure to use turn signals. Benign stuff.”
Fink nodded as he glanced toward the closed door and considered the woman on the other side. There had to be more to the story. A normal person wasn’t able to stab a guy without an iota of regret. She’d done it with pure glee.
“Nothing?” he asked.
“As an adult? No.”
Why did he keep qualifying it? “So, there’s stuff as a kid?”
AJ chuckled. “Oh, hell yeah.”
Fink nodded. Here it comes.
“Born Susan Margaret Lackey. The only surviving child of Jennifer Flannigan and Marcus Lackey. She witnessed her father stab her pregnant mother and older brother, Marcus Lackey Jr., from a coat closet when she was three.”
Well, that was tragic.
“Bounced around foster placements. Shoplifting charges. Loitering. Assault.” AJ clucked his tongue. “This chick lived a hell of a life.”
Explained a lot.
“Aged out of the system at eighteen, but with the assistance of her foster families, she got her juvenile record expunged and legally changed her name.”
Fink nodded.
“So, squeaky clean on paper but a spitfire for sure,” AJ declared.
Fink couldn’t agree more. There was an energy about Sydney. She didn’t take any shit. It was one of the many things he appreciated about her.
“Have the police shown up yet?” AJ asked.
Fink inhaled audibly. “Yes.”
“How did it go?”
“She pointed them toward others.”
“So, you’re free to go?”
Fink considered the option. In theory, yes. “It feels early.”
“How long are you staying there?”
“No idea.”
AJ sniggered. “You know, there are some pictures of her.”
What kind? They couldn’t be PG in nature if AJ felt the need to bring it up.
Not that his handler could see it, but Fink narrowed his eyes. The idea of someone else lusting after Sydney’s body had his blood boiling.
“She’s kind of hot,” AJ said. “Do you have a crush?”
“I’m cautious.”
“Bullshit,” AJ scoffed.
“What if she tells them about me after I leave?” She wouldn’t, but he had to pose the question.
“Shoot her and be done with it. Problem solved.”
Absolutely not. That wasn’t an option. Fink didn’t have an opportunity to answer because AJ had hung up. He’d given an order, but their relationship didn’t work that way. He was Fink’s handler, not his boss. Usually, his advice was spot-on, but not about this.
17