Chapter 21 Fink
Fink
Every time Fink took on a contract, AJ sent him a package. Usually, it was an envelope of information he retrieved from a post office box. A package showing up outside his door was extremely unlike AJ.
Fink didn’t like this. Going off script was dangerous. Changing this on the fly was a recipe for disaster.
There wasn’t a shipping label affixed to the medium-sized brown carton. Which could only mean it had been hand-delivered. By whom? Fink had seen no one outside when he opened the door.
How long had it sat there?
AJ would never risk something as confidential as a contract to be left unattended. Had his handler been outside the apartment? Obviously, he was well aware of where Fink had stayed. Not that he didn’t normally. AJ always knew where Fink was and how to get in touch with him. That was his job.
This was different. It wasn’t Fink’s place. This was Sydney’s. The invasiveness made his skin itch.
What if she had retrieved the package and looked inside without Fink there? He didn’t want to think about what a mess that would be. Playing the what-if game only resulted in losers.
Doing his best to disregard the negative vibes emanating from the box, he withdrew the first item. A large sealed manila envelope. That was typical. This would be all the information they’d obtained about his latest target.
It was the stuff beneath that had him smirking.
AJ knew him too well.
Mehron and Paradise face paints in white, blue, and black.
They were his preferred water-activated paints that stayed on his skin despite sweating.
The pair of black contacts he wore were sealed in the packaging.
Good thing too. Sydney didn’t have contact solution.
Salvaging the ones he’d worn when he arrived was impossible.
“What is this stuff?” Sydney asked as he laid each item out on the table.
The sealing spray, which kept his paint in place, sat atop a brand-new charcoal suit, white button-down shirt, and a narrow black tie. His uniform.
“Things I need,” he answered.
“For what?” She sounded like an excited kid on Christmas morning.
Why that tugged at his heart, Fink would never know.
Holding the envelope, he turned toward the kitchen without a word. Sydney didn’t have to be told about it. She wouldn’t be a part of it. He intended to leave tonight. This was his perfect opportunity. He had to figure out where he’d go. Where had AJ sent him?
Sliding a knife along the tape sealing the document, he opened the package and withdrew the papers.
Sydney leaned in the doorway. Her eyes bored into him as he flipped through the photos, background checks, employment history, bank statements, and all sorts of information. Each document was a piece of a puzzle that, when combined, painted a picture of Joseph Burke, his current target.
“Is that your severance package?” she asked.
He peered at her in confusion. “No.” Why would she think that? People in his line of work didn’t get severance packages. They just disappeared into the ether if they got the opportunity to retire.
“Raise?” she guessed.
“No,” he repeated.
The idea that he’d earn a salary amused him. He was an independent contractor. Nuances she didn’t understand.
“Then what is it?” she pressed. “Who sent it?”
He shook his head and slid the papers into their envelope. “None of your concern.”
“Bullshit,” she chirped. “We’re partners.”
Slumping his shoulders, he met her gaze. They’d been through this. Why was she so goddamn persistent? “No. We’re not. One time. That was it.”
She folded her arms across her chest defiantly.
It was adorable.
“Murder buddies.”
“That’s not a thing,” he said as he brushed past her and out of the tiny galley kitchen.
“It’s our thing,” she said, hot on his heels.
Quickly, he repacked the items into the box.
“Come on,” she practically whined. “I’m going to do this with you or without you. Don’t you think I’ll have a better chance of surviving if you help me out?”
Closing his eyes, he placed his hands on either side of the box. Behind his left eye, a migraine pulsed. He didn’t need this right now.
The problem wasn’t Sydney. Not entirely. Sure, her pestering him was slightly annoying, but that wasn’t causing his headache. This pain was on him.
His opinions about this warred within his head and his gut. Logically, having her tagging along with him for business was a bad idea. She hadn’t a clue what the fuck she was doing. It was risky. Fink didn’t do that. He carefully planned every move he made.
Then Sydney happened.
He couldn’t walk away from her. Not that he could explain it to anyone, but they weren’t done yet. Fink wanted to spend more time with her. She’d made it perfectly clear she felt the same.
“Who is it?” she asked, interrupting his turmoil. “Have I met the guy?”
How the hell would he know that? The background check AJ ran hadn’t included friends and family. While unlikely, this guy could’ve been a brother, cousin, or uncle. He hadn’t a clue.
“Can I see?” she asked, reaching into the box.
“No,” he practically growled as he grabbed her wrist.
Wide-eyed, she peered at him, though fear wasn’t reflected at him. It was surprise. He’d caught her off guard.
“This isn’t for you.” He released her hand.
Shimmying her shoulders, she sat back in the chair. “Let me be perfectly clear.”
She maintained his gaze with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. The jovial tone was gone. Her smile had vanished. This woman was all business.
“I’m in this now.”
He shook his head.
She held up a hand. “When you walked through that door, we became partners.”
“No,” he insisted. That wasn’t how his life went. There wasn’t room for anyone else. “I work alone.”
She smirked. “Not anymore.”
“You can’t do this,” he groaned.
“If you don’t fill me in and bring me along willingly, I will follow you.”
He snorted and folded his arms over his chest. Clearly, she didn’t think he could shake her if he wanted to.
There was so much she had to learn. Not just about the business of killing people for money but about him as well. To her credit, she tried, but he wasn’t budging. One day, she’d figure out that if he had the desire, he could evade her.
Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have the slightest inkling. There was nothing more he wanted in this world than to have her by his side. He was fucked.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She lifted her chin.
Her resolve came through loud and clear. Sydney had an idea in her head, and there was nothing Fink could do to change her mind.
“I’m going with you for whatever this is.” She gestured to the box. “If you don’t want me to fuck it all up, you better update me and tell me what to do.”
“Stay home.”
“Fat chance.”
He took a shot. A weak one, but there was an attempt.
“Murder buddies,” she practically sang.
This woman would be the death of him. He wasn’t sure at whose hands it would be. His or hers.
Shaking his head, he relented. “Fine.”
If he didn’t, she’d wind up a corpse. He couldn’t have that on his conscience.
Leaping off the chair, she squealed and clapped.
Why the hell not? If she fucked up badly enough, he could shoot her on sight. There were contingencies in place. Sure, she could be a liability, but she could also be a fall guy.
Win-win, right? He’d have to work on the pitch when he told AJ.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down toward her as she danced her little celebration.
“I can’t believe this is really happening.” Her voice rose three octaves. Honestly, he couldn’t either.
Her glee warmed his heart. She was happy. He did that. It wasn’t every day he could bring joy. Somehow, agreeing to include Sydney on a murder-for-hire contract left her elated.
This whole situation was fucked, but it might work. He’d make it his mission.
He slid his hands around her waist and hugged her against him. Immediately, his cock sprang to attention. Being this close to her had been the most delightful torture he’d ever experienced.
Any logical person would think this was a bad idea. Nothing good could happen. Flying solo had always been the safest play. Taking on a partner in any sense, whether it be romantic or professional, was a liability.
Though one could argue, he didn’t have a choice in either aspect.
He should be upset about that—angry or frustrated. Except all he felt was bliss. He couldn’t explain it, but for some fucked-up reason, this made sense to him.