Chapter 17 Sydney
Sydney
As she closed the front-loading washing machine, Sydney startled. Fink had wrenched the door to her bedroom open and wore a murderous expression.
Shit.
Had she read him wrong? Usually, her gut was spot-on about people, though Fink wasn’t exactly a normal guy. Her intuition could be off. She doubted it, but her gut being wrong wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
Holding her hand over her heart, she peered at him. “Bad news?”
He shook his head, but the expression on his face said something different. Perhaps she should tread lightly. She wasn’t so sure what all went on in there. Obviously, the information he received wasn’t good.
“I got the blood out,” she said as she pressed the buttons on the washer. “You should have your clothes back in, like, two hours, give or take. It depends on the dryer. Which is kind of shitty.”
He waved a hand, dismissing her words, and strode past her into the living room.
Her gaze followed him as he plopped down on the couch. He appeared as though the weight of the world rested on his weary shoulders.
Satisfied the stacked washer and dryer would do their job, she stepped toward him. “Did you get fired?”
“No,” he said with his head back, his eyes closed, and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
“That’s good,” she said, lowering herself beside him. “At least you still have a job.”
He peered at her with annoyance.
She smiled and scooted closer to him. “It could be worse.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“About what?”
“You.”
She blinked at him. Stunned by his candidness, she decided this was her opportunity to keep hammering at her idea. “Teach me.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his spread thighs.
“I want to learn. You’re here. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You’ll kill someone.”
“I already did that.” She chuckled. “I’m fine with it.” When the realization hit her, her face fell. “Do you think I’m going to—”
He shook his head. “No.”
He cut her off, but that was fine. She didn’t want to finish that sentence. Sydney had no intention of harming Fink. She had grown quite fond of him in the past twenty hours.
“You’re tired,” she said and rubbed between his shoulder blades. “Why don’t you enjoy a nap?”
He groaned. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
His jaw twitched.
“I won’t go anywhere. Remember, I’m not a hostage or anything. I’m your murder buddy.” And if she played her cards right, perhaps they could get to murder fuck buddies, but that would take time. They’d get there. Eventually.
Right now, Fink needed to sleep. She wasn’t even sure how he kept his eyes open.
He snorted, but she got a glimpse of a smile from him. Finally, a crack in the stress.
Reaching for him, she rested her palm on his cheek and drew his focus toward her.
Hesitantly, he turned and met her gaze.
“I promise I won’t betray you. I want to be like you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know me.”
“So tell me.”
“Why do you think everything is so simple?”
She furrowed her brows. “Because it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“You’re the one making it complicated.”
“Life is complicated.”
She raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “Life is what you make of it.”
“You can’t live on platitudes.”
Steeling herself, she lifted her chin and dropped her hand to her lap. “I can if I want to.”
He rolled his beautiful multicolored eyes and leaned back on the couch. He draped an arm over his face. “You’re stubborn.”
“I thought you liked that about me.”
His chest shook with a small laugh.
“I prefer persistent.”
The two of them sat there in silence. Sydney had said all she could think of, and the ball was in his court. Sort of. She wouldn’t accept no for an answer. He had to understand that. What would he do?
Carefully, she slid an arm over his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. To her surprise, he snaked one around her and tugged her against him. Nuzzling into him, she smiled. He smelled of lavender and jasmine—her shampoo. It was delightful on him.
Closing her eyes, she reveled in the moment of intimacy. Feeling comfort in someone else’s embrace was unfamiliar to her, but she enjoyed the way he held her.
In mere minutes, his breathing slowed into an even rhythm. She grinned, knowing that he had relaxed beside her. The tension in his arm loosened.
Though she wasn’t quite prepared for the soft snoring.
Keeping her lips tight together, she bit back her snicker. So much for not being able to sleep. Apparently, he found her as cozy as she did him.
Being nap-trapped by a handsome devil wasn’t on her bingo card, but nothing in the past twenty-four hours had gone how she expected it to. Why would this wholesome moment with a killer be any different?
Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips against his bare chest and decided she’d earned a rest as well.