Chapter 49 Fink
Fink
Fink had hung at least six of these before. The task wasn’t difficult. This shouldn’t be a challenge. Yet he stood there, befuddled by the sixty-five-inch television hanging on Sydney’s wall.
Another TV in his house would be ridiculous. She wanted to sell it. All he had to do was get it off the wall while she was at the consignment shop.
The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what to do or what screws to take out. This wasn’t a one-man job.
Blowing out a breath, with his hands on his hips, Fink studied the situation. There was no way he could do it alone. He needed another body.
Bing-bong.
Saved by the bell? But why would Sydney ring it?
He stepped aside, reached for the knob, and opened the door like it was his apartment and not somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. What the hell was wrong with him? He had no business doing that.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
A five-foot-six, dark-haired, brown-eyed man stood shaking his head and clucking his tongue. AJ. Fink’s handler was there, in person.
Shit.
Without waiting for an invitation, AJ moved forward, brushing past Fink and entering the apartment.
Fink peered out the door and glanced left and right.
No one else.
There weren’t any vehicles that looked out of place. Not a plumber, an electrician, or a cable company van sat nearby. AJ had come alone. That was good at least.
Bracing himself, Fink shut the door behind him.
AJ, with his hands in his pockets, glanced around the compact living room, nodding. “Small. Quaint. A little sparsely decorated.”
His gaze settled on a tote in the middle of the floor, half filled with books and towels.
Fink’s handler cocked his head to the side and turned to face Fink. He gestured toward the box. “Someone moving?”
Fink scrubbed the back of his neck but didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. AJ didn’t control his life. They were friends who shared a long history, and he was Fink’s main source of contracts, but that didn’t mean he dictated how Fink lived or who he shared a home with.
AJ pursed his lips. “I always thought midlife crises happened around forty. Aren’t you a little young for this nonsense?”
“It’s not—”
His handler’s gaze darkened. His expression hardened, and any jokes he’d made died right then and there. He was clearly pissed off. “What the fuck else do you call it?”
Fink opened his mouth to respond but again was cut off.
“First, you let a liability continue to breathe.” AJ held up a finger. “Then you bring said liability to your fucking cabin.” AJ added a digit. “By the way, I’m not offended at all that she got to see it before I did. We can discuss that later. Right now, we’re focused on business.”
Fink shifted his weight from one foot to the other. So far, AJ was right; he really couldn’t contest what his friend had said. For someone who was on the outside looking in, it definitely seemed like Fink took a misstep or twelve.
AJ licked his bottom lip and took a step toward Fink. “Care to explain how the good Mrs. Grant overdosed this morning?” His handler steepled his fingers and tapped them against his chin. “The only person the cops were investigating for the death you caused.”
There was the reason he’d shown up. The other stuff, AJ could let slide, but taking out Chloe Grant was a bit too far.
“You asked for a lawyer to protect this woman.” AJ came closer. “Against my better judgment, I helped. Then you do this?”
“I wanted it to go away faster.” Fink could admit the optics were bad, but he’d done everything he could to make it appear as though it were an accident. “There should be no questions.”
“That’s not the fucking point,” red-faced, AJ shouted.
“I eliminated all the liabilities.”
AJ’s eye twitched, and he jutted his index finger at Fink. “The fuck you did. How long until the biggest one comes walking through that door?”
“She’s not your concern.”
“You do realize you don’t work alone, right?”
Again, Fink fidgeted, uncomfortable with the presence of his current situation being thrown in his face. The truth was that until recently, though he had done the actual murders by himself, he wasn’t a lone wolf.
“I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you,” AJ said as he turned from him and sauntered toward the couch. “I don’t like it.”
Fink glared in his direction. AJ’s approval wasn’t required. This was Fink’s life, not his. They were business partners. “My relationships have nothing to do with our arrangement.”
Quirking a brow, AJ dropped onto the couch. “If you’re going to make this many mistakes, it absolutely is.”
“I’m handling them.”
AJ scoffed and crossed one leg over the other, making himself far too comfortable in Sydney’s apartment. “I have to meet this woman who has redirected the blood flow from your brain to your dick.”
“No.” Absolutely not. There was no reason in hell they had to be in the same room as each other.
“It’s not negotiable.”
The fuck it wasn’t. Fink twisted the doorknob and yanked it open. “Get out.”
“Oh,” Sydney squeaked on the other side. “Um.”
Fink closed his eyes and let his head hang. Fuck him sideways with a stolen dick. This went from bad to worse.