Chapter 31 Sydney
Sydney
As much as Sydney would’ve enjoyed standing around and admiring their work, Fink wouldn’t have any of it. The port would come alive bright and early, before the sunrise, so they had to skedaddle before anyone discovered them. Witnesses were a complication they didn’t need.
Like collecting the plastic sheet that contained all the traces of their coupling.
Having sex while murdering was risky, but damn, it was hot.
Thankfully, he thought of ways to avoid that.
They collected the plastic and wrapped their bloody clothes in it.
It was stuffed into the toolbox in the back of the truck for disposal later.
These were the details she had to make a note of for when she struck out on her own.
Not only did she have to learn the habits of her victim but everyone else around them as well.
If she killed someone in a public place, what were the busy hours?
There was a lot to remember. Hopefully, Fink wouldn’t kick her to the curb just yet.
Sitting in the passenger seat of his pickup, she stole a brief glance at him. Would he leave? Just one lesson? Were they done?
The idea soured in her gut.
That was the last thing she wanted. She’d gotten her start murdering with him. Bidding farewell now was too soon. She had much more to learn from him. Not to mention, she was attached to Fink.
Something she rarely did. Nothing good came from developing feelings for another person.
They always left in the end. At least, that was her experience.
She’d convinced herself that lifelong lovers were myths meant to sell greeting cards on Valentine’s Day.
Not to mention the wedding industry. That was a money-making machine.
All of it was a sham.
Lowering her gaze to the cooler in her lap, she sighed.
Was it, though?
Just because she hadn’t stumbled upon love didn’t mean other people couldn’t. Then again, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t become intimately attached before. She’d experienced the emotion. It hadn’t done her very well, but it had happened a time a two.
Hadn’t it?
What she’d felt in the past didn’t compare to now.
This was far more intense. Her feelings for Fink made it hard to breathe sometimes.
What she’d felt for others before wasn’t like this.
To call it the same thing was an insult.
With anyone else she’d experienced mere fondness.
With Fink, she’d say it was more akin to obsession.
If this was love, damn. She was not prepared for it but never wanted to let it go.
Running her hand over the lid of the plastic box in her lap, she considered the contents—a damaged heart. Fink’s gift to her. Was it his method of saying goodbye?
If so, shouldn’t she refuse it? Would that force him to come up with another one?
She snorted. Right? If she said no to this, that was it. He wasn’t going to hit the local mall to find her something else.
Honestly, Burke’s heart was perfect. Few people had such sentimental mementos.
“What are we going to do with it?” she asked.
“Just outside of Brooklyn, there’s a drop-off,” he said as he switched lanes on the interstate.
What?
She furrowed her brows.
Had she misheard him and misinterpreted everything?
No way. He gave a whole-ass speech. There was no misconstruing that. Though was it possible he could’ve been lying? Why he would do that was beyond her, but maybe she should check her understanding of the organ in her lap.
“I thought I was supposed to keep it?”
Peering at her quickly before bringing his focus back to the road proved his confusion. That made two of them.
She patted the cooler in her hand. “This one. The heart.”
His expression brightened. He smiled and nodded. “Ah. Yes, that.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “I probably should’ve thought it out a bit more before I suggested we take it.”
“We” came off his tongue so easily, it made her heart skip a beat and her butterflies flutter in her stomach. Unfortunately, she’d grown accustomed to them being a “we.”
“I don’t want to stick it into some jar with whatever that embalming fluid is.” He wrinkled his nose.
She pursed her lips. “That seems like the exact way someone would get caught.”
“Definitely seen it in a movie or two,” he agreed.
“Can we seal it in resin?” she pondered aloud.
He tapped the buttons on the radio to switch the station. That was the thing about tuning into FM radio like peasants; the signal went out when they got too far away from the station. There had to be a method to listen to satellite.
Maybe they could make a playlist. That would be better than static.
“We can Google it when we get home,” he suggested.
Again, her heart did somersaults in her chest. Not only did he use the magic W word again, but he called her apartment “home.”
If that wasn’t a sign that he’d stick around, she wasn’t sure what was. Best not to tempt fate and spook him by asking.
Though if she were smart, she wouldn’t get her hopes up. She couldn’t imagine contract killers were inclined to stay in the same spot for too long.
Glancing out the window, she watched the large signs proclaiming exits whiz by. “I should probably terminate my lease.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Well, if I’m going to be working with you, it’s not a good idea to have a home base.”
“Pfft.” He blew out a breath. “You absolutely should have a place to call your own. It’ll be your sanctuary.”
“Do you have one?”
He nodded. “A cabin. Out in the middle of nowhere.” The wistfulness in his voice warmed her heart.
She hummed, imagining Fink in the forest by himself, chopping wood. The image of the man from TikTok with the suspenders and white T-shirt came to mind. Mentally, she superimposed Fink’s head on his body.
Rolling her eyes at her own absurdity, she blinked back to the present. “How often do you go?”
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Between contracts,” he said. “Sometimes I get to putter around and make improvements for, like, a month or two. Other jobs are back-to-back, like right now.”
“So, the murder business isn’t exactly hopping?” she asked.
He snickered. “It can be. Ebbs and flows.”
“Do you have, like, a territory? Or are you global?” Encroaching on his turf when she had to do this on her own seemed rude. She would have to learn his stomping grounds so she could avoid them. The last thing she wanted was to be his competitor.
“National, maybe Canada a few times. Mexico once,” he admitted. “Mostly inside the US. When you cross borders, things get a little tricky. Then there’s a trail.”
“We don’t want those,” she all but sang.
He tugged his ear and then pointed toward her. “Someone’s been listening.” He winked.
She couldn’t help smiling as her cheeks flushed.
His approval turned her into a puddle of people-pleaser.
Sydney made it a point to quit that habit when she became an adult.
It’d done her no damn good as a kid and wouldn’t in the future either, but being the source of the grin on Fink’s face made her feel nice inside.