Chapter 38 Sydney
Sydney
To no one’s surprise, Fink was a nonfiction guy. He was super serious. Sydney should’ve already figured that out about him, but this… well, this was unexpected.
Logical, but not anticipated.
As were most things with Fink.
Nestling into the comfort of the couch, she flipped through the pages of the text. Awe welled in her chest. It mingled with curiosity. Skimming through the content, she got a better idea of who Fink was and what interested him.
Robert Ben Rhoades, a serial killer. Sydney had never heard of the guy. Perhaps because he was before her time. She was barely an infant at the end of his reign of terror. However, if a guy like this were roaming the streets today, she’d imagine there’d be more media fanfare about him.
Thunk.
Startled by the loud noise, she jumped out of her seat and threw the book toward the door in an attempt at self-defense—of self-preservation. She’d never know the intent of her instincts.
With wide eyes and her heart in her throat, she stared at Fink, who held a gun in hand and pointed it at her.
She wasn’t sure whether she should be shocked or relieved.
Fink had barged in on her, but she was safe in his home, which wasn’t surprising, but why the hell did he aim a weapon at her?
Probably because she snooped. This guy valued his privacy. She went and violated his trust by exploring his house without permission. She should’ve gone to the kitchen. He’d done that at her apartment.
Then again, he’d poked around while at her place too. He ran a fucking background check on her. All she’d done was open a door and pick up a book.
Feelings of betrayal aside, she bit her bottom lip. At this moment, she was the one in the wrong. Not him.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. She glanced around the room and picked at her thumbnail. “My sleep schedule is a little screwed up.”
Returning her focus to him, she frowned. He kept the gun trained on her. Did he really think she was a threat?
Since when?
“I didn’t want to wake you by tossing and turning,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have done it.” She lowered her gaze and let out a sigh. “I have no business being in here. I’m sorry.”
Was this his final straw? Would he kill her? Or worse?
Send her away?
The ideas bounced in her brain as her gut knotted.
The scenarios made her sick to her stomach.
If she wanted to get into contract killing, like he was, she needed him.
Not only to teach her but maybe to hook her up with customers or clients or whatever.
Maybe in other ways, but that wasn’t the point.
She was too new at this. She didn’t have a clue where to start. He’d barely taught her what to do, let alone how to get it done. He couldn’t abandon her yet.
Slowly, he lowered the gun.
Closing her eyes, she let out a breath of relief.
“What are you doing?”
Hadn’t she told him that?
He crossed the room in long, quick strides. The distance between them shrank to inches. The height advantage he had became glaringly obvious when she looked up at him.
Her heart threatened to burst from her chest, hit his, and plop on the ground at their feet. He was mad at her. That made things a thousand times worse.
The two of them stared at each other in silence. Swallowing her fear, she did her best to read his hard expression. Was it fury? Disappointment? Confusion. What was going on behind those beautiful hazel eyes?
Stepping back, he crouched and scooped the book off the floor.
Oh shit. “I’m sorry,” she apologized yet again. “I think I lost your place.”
Dammit. Couldn’t she do anything right?
As he rose, he turned the book over, studying it as though he’d never seen it before. Wasn’t it his? Hadn’t he read a portion of it? Who else would?
“I’ve never heard of him,” she offered as she rocked from the balls of her feet to her heels and back again. “Though he seems very intriguing.”
Fink nodded. “Why this room?”
What an odd question. She didn’t really have the answer. Glancing around, she tried to explain how she ended up here of all places in the house.
“I love books,” she said honestly and met his intense stare.
He furrowed his brow.
She shrugged. “Though, I’m into fiction. Romance, specifically.”
His expression remained blank.
“I just couldn’t sleep. I can’t cook.” She sighed and lowered her gaze in resignation.
“Why not the office?”
Peering up at him, she cocked her head to the side. “There are no books in there. Why would I stay there?”
He quirked a brow. “There’s a computer.”
“It’s not like I know how to log into it.” What was he getting at? “It’s essentially a giant paperweight to me.”
Again, he stared as though perplexed by her.
“What are those?” she asked, pointing to the little trinkets at the tops of the shelves.
He glanced toward where she gestured. “Stuff I’ve collected.”
Classic vague answer. She shouldn’t have expected anything different.
With defeat beating down on her, she slumped her shoulders. This was where he threw her out. He’d had enough of her bullshit. Fink wasn’t the type to yell and scream. He was a man of action.
Her gaze found the gun in his hand. His finger was near the trigger but not on it. “Are you going to shoot me?”
“No,” he said quickly.
“Were you going to kill me?”
He hesitated. His jaw twitched before he finally whispered, “No.”
His admission bothered him. She could see it in his eyes and the wrinkles forming at their corners.
She’d venture a guess she wasn’t the only one in uncharted waters here. This entire arrangement was new and strange for him too. Where she found their experience exhilarating, he was more reserved. She wouldn’t call him reluctant. It was something different. She couldn’t put her finger on what.
Reaching for him, she let her fingertips graze the hand holding his gun. “I promise to do nothing intentionally that would cause you to use this.”