Chapter 28 Fink
Fink
At two in the morning, three hours after Fink and Sydney had set up an empty container for their purposes, Burke, their target, stumbled out of a small bar. His silver hair was disheveled, his light jacket was unzipped, and his white goatee had bits of pretzel in it. He was a sloppy, drunken mess.
Mumbling to himself, he fished in his pocket as he strolled down the narrow street.
Fink and Sydney had learned that Burke enjoyed indulging in popular watering holes during the week.
From ten in the evening until midnight, these streets teemed with twenty-somethings.
They were in a college town, several miles away from the port.
Which meant that at his age, Burke stuck out like a sore thumb.
Thankfully, because of his inability to understand when he’d worn out his welcome, the district was quiet when he took his leave. Whether it be the fact that it was a Wednesday or because last call had long passed, the traffic was at a minimum. This area was essentially a ghost town.
Fink sat in the driver’s seat of his F-150, watching Burke singing to himself, blissfully unaware of his imminent demise.
He glanced toward Sydney.
Her plaid shorts rode up high until her fishnet-clad booty cheeks peeked out from their hem. In low pigtails, the red temporary hair dye had clumped in her hair, holding it in place and hiding her true color.
She stuck out, but then again, she wasn’t the only scantily clad woman with vibrant hair standing around on these streets. Distinguishing the difference between a coed and a hooker in this neighborhood was difficult.
Purposefully, Sydney bent over, arched her back, and made sure her beautiful ass was on full display. Fink curled his fingers into a fist, cracking his knuckles, as Burke stutter-stepped at the sight.
“Damn, baby,” he slurred.
Fink rolled his eyes. Of course a drunk longshoreman would catcall something so mundane.
Sydney righted herself and spun around to face Burke.
With her eyes wide, she brought a gloved hand to cover her O-shaped mouth. Okay, she laid it on a little thick there. No one would consider that a naturally shocked reaction.
Burke furrowed his brows and jabbed a finger in her direction. “What the fuck is this?”
He glanced around as though someone would answer him. Save for Sydney and Fink lying in wait, Burke was alone.
Fink carefully squeezed the handle of the truck door as he watched. The slightest sound could give him away. He had to be quiet as a mouse.
“Are you a mime?” Burke asked. “Or a clown?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Guess.”
Slowly, Fink pushed the door open, doing his best to be stealthy, hoping to go unnoticed.
“What?” Burke said, regarding her skeptically.
Wearing a sultry smile, Sydney sauntered toward the longshoreman, making her hips pop.
Her swagger was sexy as fuck. A little exaggerated, but it drew Fink’s eye. Burke’s, too, apparently. The asshole would soon regret eyeballing her like that.
“Are you laughing?” she asked as she approached their target.
“No,” he said on a chuckle.
Fink inched closer, pulling a syringe from his pocket.
“Clowns make you laugh. Don’t they?” she asked.
Burke nodded. “Halloween was last week, babe.”
Fink pulled the cap off the needle and pocketed it. He couldn’t leave any evidence behind.
She nodded. “You’re right.”
“So, what’s with the getup?” Burke gestured in her direction.
Fink cautiously stepped closer.
Sydney pouted as she put her hands on her hips and glanced down at her skimpy outfit. “You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that,” Burke protested.
“Then you do like it?” she asked as she rocked up onto the balls of her Converse-All-Star-clad feet.
Burke whispered something Fink couldn’t hear and gave her the once-over.
“Yeah.” Burke scrubbed a hand over his face.
How had this guy not noticed Fink yet? He was within inches of Burke. The longshoreman hadn’t glanced in his direction. His drunken focus was solely on Sydney.
For reasons Fink wasn’t ready to admit, ire burned through his veins. This jackoff was ogling Sydney like a piece of prime rib. At this point, Fink didn’t care what the hell he’d done to get a contract out on him. For this indiscretion alone, he deserved to die.
“Good, then I was an effective distraction,” she said as she brought her hand to her face, kissed the tips of her fingers, and blew in Burke’s direction.
“What?” Blinking a few times, the longshoreman took a step away, but it was too late.
Fink slapped his gloved hand on the back of Burke’s neck as he jabbed the syringe into his jugular and pressed the plunger. The milky white liquid disappeared into the longshoreman’s veins.
“What the—”
Burke’s eyes rolled into his head as the propofol took effect.
Sydney rushed toward them as Burke’s knees gave out. Fink looped an arm around the man and caught him before he fell to the concrete. Preventing someone from hitting the ground was a hell of a lot easier than it was to lift him.
Deadweight was just as heavy, though. Thankfully, Sydney came to the rescue. She looped the unconscious man’s arm over her shoulders and assumed a portion of his burden.
Two young ladies dressed in flashy short dresses approached them. They slowed their stride as they glanced in Fink, Sydney, and Burke’s direction.
“Come on, Uncle Joey, let’s get you in the truck,” she groaned.
“For fuck’s sake, Jen,” Fink grumbled, going along with the scene she set. “We left the party early for this?”
“My mom asked,” she lamented.
The two of them lied so effortlessly. Sydney thought quickly and was a damn fine actress. He picked up the narrative as though the two of them were of one mind.
The potential witnesses kept on walking. An argument between a young couple dragging a passed-out drunk relative from the bar district wasn’t their business. No one wanted in on that sort of drama.
Together, they tossed the longshoreman into the bed of the truck, covered him with a heavy moving blanket, and secured it with some rubber ties.
From the dosage Fink had administered, they had roughly half an hour to an hour before Burke would rouse. That should be enough to get him to their container for the evening’s festivities.
Getting behind the wheel, Fink practically squealed with joy. Tonight would be a fun night. He was eager to see how well Sydney had prepared herself for this moment.
Stabbing her boss on a whim in the moment was one thing; it was a completely different affair flaying him and reveling in his screams.
Not everyone was cut out for that.
Was she?