Chapter 32 Fink
Fink
This was a bad idea.
The worst Fink had ever had.
They should go right back to Sydney’s apartment. He should drop her off and go home. They should part ways.
He’d done more than enough. She asked him to teach her.
She’d effectively learned. Well, sort of.
If she did this on her own, without him, she’d have the police at her door an hour after they discovered the body.
Tops. There was a lot of work to do, but she had talent and determination. She’d get there with practice and luck.
Sydney didn’t need him around anymore. In time, she’d develop her own style. His methods might be bad habits when she found her groove. They might not work for her. He should pack his meager bag and go.
Except he didn’t want to.
So, he didn’t.
Instead, he’d headed north with her snoring beside him in the cab of his pickup. Burke’s heart, which they had no business having, nestled at her feet.
What had gotten into him? Sure, he took a trophy occasionally, but he didn’t consider himself a sentimental bastard. That was a lie. He had a room full of trinkets that reminded him of things. Maybe he was mushy after all.
But not romantic. That was until this damn heart nonsense. Who did he think he was? William Shakespeare spouting sonnets? He had lost his ever-loving mind.
To top it off, he was in this messy situation because he had acted on an insane whim. He’d vowed to never do exactly this. Yet here he was, doing it, like a lovesick fool.
And he liked it.
Without telling her a damn thing, he hopped on a different highway with intentions he had no business having.
A partnership was a horrendous concept. AJ would chew his ass out for this.
Bringing her along was a liability. He might even lose his contracts, his livelihood. This risk was so out of bounds.
Yet he did it anyway.
She hadn’t been officially cleared in the Grant case. She might get a subpoena and have to testify. He scrubbed a hand over his tired features. This was a bad idea. They’d left her phone back at her place. If those detectives called her and she didn’t answer, they’d show up at her door.
Fuck.
How could he be so stupid? Impulsive and stupid got people jammed up or worse.
He supposed she could call in to her voicemail and get messages, but that would leave a trail. Though not if she used an untraceable number. Blowing out a breath, he hunched over the steering wheel. This got complicated. He didn’t do complicated. He knew better than that.
Fink could turn around.
She’d never be aware of the difference.
They could crash at the same motel, fuck like rabbits, research the heart in resin idea, and he’d have her home and back to her life. They both could move on and recall this fling fondly in their old age.
The thought pierced his heart. It wasn’t the right thing to do.
Since when did he care about what was proper? He wasn’t a moral man.
Glancing in her direction, he studied the way the red lines he’d drawn on her cheeks had smudged and blurred with the maroon stain of Burke’s dried blood. Her blouse hung open, revealing the bra underneath. Bloody palm prints stained that fabric.
When they got there, he’d start a fire. They’d make love in front of the hearth as the clothes they’d worn to murder the longshoreman burned.
Make love?
What the hell?
Since when did he make love?
Fink and Sydney fucked. There wasn’t an ounce of tenderness or affection about it. He wasn’t sweet nor gentle with her. Their coupling was raw, brutal, and feral. Magnificent. Exactly what he craved.
Shaking his head, trying to scramble his brain, Fink was truly convinced he’d gone insane somewhere between murders. There was nothing more tragic than someone being fully aware they’d lost their marbles.
He should turn around.
Sydney didn’t deserve to be near him as he lost touch with reality. That wasn’t what she’d signed up for.
After all these years of killing, he’d finally cracked. Subjecting Sydney to his insanity wouldn’t be fair. She was…
Probably the only person in the world who could understand him.
That thought struck a chord so deep within his soul, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider what that meant or how that would play out over the next few hours, days, months, or years. It was too much.
For now, he had to think of things simply for what they were.
He was a man slipped into lunacy and had taken Sydney hostage.
Although she had gone willingly. Actually, she’d begged to join him. She was as nuts as he was. That didn’t change the facts as he saw them.
If they kept on this path, went farther down this road, it would end in disaster. There was no other fate for two people who bonded over shedding the blood of others for money. They were dark souls with devious minds.
Who, despite the odds, found each other.
His heart swelled in his chest. Happiness made his skin tingle and his dick twitch. Someone who had done all the stuff he had didn’t get a happy ending. The world wouldn’t be right if he did.
When had he ever bothered to consider what was just in this world?
Why should he start now?
Fink had spent most of his life living in the moment. The past couldn’t be changed. There was no use in worrying about it. He had no control over the future. So, another task off his plate.
All he had was this moment. Right here. Right now.
So why was he in his head about this?
If it was wrong to bring her there, then so be it. If his world collapsed around him because he got hung up on some random woman with a smile that made his heart sing and hips that drove him mad, oh well. He had a good run.
Whether she turned out to be an undercover agent hired to bring him down, or a rival contract killer on a mission to kill him, he’d accept his fate. For now, he had this moment.
Peace.
Sydney made him happy. It didn’t happen often. Fink should stop, take a breath, and enjoy their time together while it lasted. He would appreciate it for what it was—bliss in the presence of another human being. No matter if fleeting.
If enjoying Sydney meant the end, no one could take this moment from him. He had it for the rest of his life. No matter how short or long that was.