Chapter 19 Fink
Fink
TwoDays Later
The detectives hadn’t been back. Forty-eight hours had passed. The safe assumption was Fink and Sydney were in the clear. The cops had looked to someone else. He didn’t have a clue who was under their microscope, but as long as it wasn’t him, he was happy.
The money for the contract hit his account, and he was set.
Nothing kept him there. He could take off and continue with his life.
Yet he remained.
Using gift cards he’d purchased months ago, he’d gotten the essentials delivered to Sydney’s apartment. Socks, underwear, sweatpants, two hoodies, a couple of T-shirts, and toiletries. He was set for a few more days.
Sitting across from Sydney, enjoying a plate of pasta and chicken, he studied her. He couldn’t recall the last occasion he’d been in the presence of anyone continuously for this long. Maybe his childhood? Though that would’ve been entirely involuntary—and unpleasant.
As an adult, he hadn’t been one to enjoy the company of others. Though he couldn’t rule out the other way around either. He was an acquired taste—one most hadn’t acquired. Which was why AJ, his longest friend and associate, kept his distance.
Whatever it was, his tolerance of others was limited.
Except when it came to Sydney.
Bringing a bottle of water to his lips, he considered what that meant. Would he be able to leave when the time came? If it came? He had to.
He couldn’t stay there forever. If he did, it would be considered settling down. Another liability. The more predictable the routine, the easier it was to figure him out. He prided himself on being an enigma. A guy who had a stable life with a woman certainly wasn’t a puzzle.
“I should probably get going soon,” he said as he stabbed at a chunk of chicken nestled in a nest of spaghetti.
“To bed?” she asked without looking up from her plate.
“Home,” he clarified.
She paused, holding her fork in midair.
“I appreciate your hospitality,” he began. “But the two of us should get on with our lives.”
She pursed her lips as she rested her fork on the edge of the plate slowly. Too slowly. The manner in which she moved was sort of creepy. Or hot. He was never sure about Sydney. Things that shouldn’t be arousing always gave him a stiffy.
Reaching for her glass, she didn’t lift it. Instead, she tapped her finger against it.
He could practically see the gears turning in her mind.
“I’m sure you have stuff to do. Job hunting.”
“I told you,” she snapped. “I want to do what you do. You were supposed to be training me.”
He frowned. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not a teacher.”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “You haven’t even tried.”
Fair. He couldn’t argue that, but she didn’t understand. There wasn’t a way to instruct someone in his method of life.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” he replied.
“Just show me the ropes so I don’t make stupid mistakes,” she suggested.
He sighed. It wasn’t that simple. “I don’t want to keep arguing about this.”
“Then give in,” she suggested smugly.
If he walked through the door, it’d be over. He wouldn’t see her again. This discussion would officially be over. He’d disappear like a fart in the wind.
The gloom of that thought weighed heavily on his shoulders.
It was the smartest thing to do. He should’ve gone yesterday. She’d be out of his hair, and he could put Grant and the investigation behind him. Even if she confessed to the police, told them the truth, they’d never find him. He hadn’t even told her his name.
The cops wouldn’t get far on the moniker Fink.
It was barely a word.
“I’m taking your silence as agreement.” She broke in on his thoughts. “So, tomorrow we start.”
He rolled his eyes and pushed back from the table. He couldn’t do this. This wasn’t who he was. Who had he been trying to kid? He wasn’t the settle down and play house kind of guy.
Without speaking, he left the table and disappeared into their bedroom.
Their?
What? When had that happened? It wasn’t theirs. It was hers. She’d merely been kind enough to let him crash there.
Shaking his head, he took the small duffel bag he’d ordered and stuffed it with the clothes he’d acquired during his visit.
“What are you doing?” she asked from the doorway.
“It’s time.” Well past it if he were honest.
“For what?” she asked, bewildered, as though they hadn’t discussed this seconds ago.
He rose and approached her.
Once he was standing mere inches from her, she stood her ground and blocked his exit. His fingers tingled with the urge to run them along her hips. Wetting his lips, he stamped down the desire to press them against hers. That would have to wait.
He’d managed to show restraint for the past few days. Giving in now would seal his fate. He’d never leave.
“Excuse me,” he rumbled in a baritone that was unfamiliar to him.
Her chin quivered for a moment. Sadness consumed her eyes, and his heart pinched. He hated this feeling. It did him no good. Regret, guilt, or even remorse were useless to a killer like himself. He had to do what needed to be done.
Right now, that was leaving her to return to her normal life. They both had to put this behind them.
Turning away, she stepped back.
Swallowing his emotions, he disappeared into the bathroom to collect his final items.
He had to do it. He had to move on. There was nothing left for him here.
Except Sydney.
She wasn’t his. This woman should resume her normal routine. She would get over this killer fantasy she had.
Or she wouldn’t.
Did he want to be responsible for her doing something stupid on her own because he couldn’t swallow his pride long enough to give her a few pointers?
Dropping his deodorant into the bag, he shook his head. This wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his responsibility. His hands rested on the edge of the sink. Sydney was an adult. She should know murder wasn’t the right manner in which to live. He did it. She shouldn’t.
The two of them needed to put the past few days behind them. They were nice, but their time together had come to a close. It couldn’t be avoided. All good things ended. A person in his line of work didn’t get to enjoy the comforts of having someone like Sydney around.
Fink had to be a loner. He had to be solitary for his safety and hers.
Bringing her into the fold would get her hurt.
Or worse. He couldn’t carry that on his conscience.
Didn’t she understand? Not every job would go the way Grant’s had.
It’d been a happy accident. One that would be unlikely to repeat itself.
Vrr. Vrr.
Stiffening his spine, he turned toward the bedroom.
Vrr. Vrr.
The burner phone vibrated on the dresser.
Sydney appeared in the hallway outside the bathroom.
Vrr. Vrr.
“You should get that.”