Chapter 51 Fink
Fink
There was no turning back. Not that Fink had thoughts of giving up, but if he did, he couldn’t anymore. Sydney meeting AJ and his handler accepting her into the fold cemented it. Sydney and Fink were now a package deal.
For better or worse. In sickness and depravity. So help them both.
No one could wipe the smile off his face.
In his world, there was nothing more official than this.
Lying in bed, with her head on his chest, his arm around her, and his hand resting on her shoulder, he held her close.
If anyone wanted to take him out in this moment, he’d die happier than he’d ever been in his life.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, content with his choice.
Sydney
Thump. Bump. Thump. Bump.
The sound of Fink’s heart steadily beating against her ear normally lulled Sydney to sleep. There was nothing more soothing than lying with him.
But not tonight.
Anger. Fear. Excitement. Anticipation.
Her emotions warred within her gut, tangling together into a tight knot. What-ifs and disaster scenarios played out in her mind. While she kept her eyes closed, she didn’t sleep.
She couldn’t.
Standing at the precipice of the life she never thought possible or knew she wanted, Sydney’s mind raced with the thought that it could slip through her fingers because of one person.
Fink introduced her to his inner circle.
She met someone who didn’t call him by his nickname.
AJ used his real name. He was someone important to Fink.
Not to mention, Fink had included her. All his contracts were hers now. They were in business together. Happiness was right there, and it could be lost in the blink of an eye.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Fink had taken matters into his own hands. Why couldn’t she?
Obviously, he thought her skilled enough to be his partner. She could do what had to be done, and he wouldn’t be any the wiser. Fink had made it look like an accident. She could too. Why not? She was a natural at this sort of thing.
Wasn’t that what he’d said?
There was one obstacle between her and their happiness. She couldn’t let that remain. She had to eliminate it. It’d be the only way to protect Fink.
They’d been attached at the hip ever since they met. It wouldn’t take the authorities long to realize their connection. If they arrested her, no matter what she did, Fink would go down too.
Over her dead body.
When the low rumble of his snores vibrated his chest, Sydney slipped out of his hold. Not out of bed yet. She had to let him resettle in the new position before she did anything else. Fink was a light sleeper. If she wanted to get out of there without him sensing it, she had to be careful.
With a soft grunt, he rolled onto his side, away from her. Perfect.
Slowly, she inched to the end of the bed. Careful not to tug the sheets and comforter, she slinked onto the floor. On her knees, she held her breath, waiting.
Would he stir? Should she go to the bathroom and pretend she had to pee? Biting her bottom lip, she lingered to see if Fink would call for her.
When he didn’t, she crawled out of the room and dipped into the bathroom.
Using the toilet wasn’t a bad idea after all.
With her business done, she stood at the sink, washing her hands. Her reflection caught her attention. The reason she knew Fink had killed someone without her was because he’d donned his clown makeup.
Her gaze drifted to the bag of face paints on the counter.
Should she do the same?
Getting gussied up would take time. Did she have it? How long would it be before he noticed she was gone?
The small pots and brushes taunted her from within their canvas container.
Turning off the faucet, she blew out a breath. Quick. Hers wasn’t as complicated as his. She could spare a few minutes, but she’d do it in the car.
Fink
The wind whipped against Fink’s frame. He clutched the thin fabric of his suit jacket tighter against him. Thankful for his gloves, lest his hands be frozen icicles, he continued down the docks, searching.
For what?
He hadn’t a clue.
The only thought that repeated in his mind was how cold he was.
Hopefully, he’d find whatever it was sooner rather than later. He wanted to get the job done and go home to Sydney.
Sydney.
Where was she? Shouldn’t she be here with him? They were a team. Murder fuck buddies and all that.
Turning, he scanned the dark, empty boardwalks and found nothing. Not a soul crossed his path.
Where had she gone?
“Sydney?” he hollered into the darkness.
It didn’t even echo back to him.
Where was he, anyway? This wasn’t the shipyard where they’d taken care of Burke. This was much smaller. Pleasure yachts were tied off in the slips. A few recreational fishing boats. Not a single commercial vessel in sight.
Why was he there?
“Sydney?” he called again, his heart picking up speed.
She shouldn’t have gotten away from him. They were safer together. She knew that. Splitting up was always a bad idea. Hadn’t she watched any suspense movies? Safety was in numbers. Even if their number was two.
As he trudged alone, shivering in the cold, he happened upon a small white sailboat.
It seemed out of place, but Fink couldn’t discern why.
Scanning it, he noted it had no registration numbers on it. However, it did have a name painted in elegant script along the back.
Sin or Swim, it boasted.
He hated puns.
Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. However, he continued to focus on this boat.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
What was that sound?
Plink.
Furrowing his brows, he noted a large dark puddle on the hull. Drops of something came from above. His gaze traveled up the mast.
The bare feet bound to the pole didn’t register as weird. The long red lines of blood trailing down her legs were perfectly normal. Even the large gash in her abdomen didn’t faze him.
“Callum.” Her weak voice pierced his heart, freezing it within his chest.
Sydney never used his legal name. The sound of it coming from her blue lips nearly knocked him backward. Either that or the haunted look on her sunken face. Her dead eyes stared through his soul.
“Where are you?” she asked.
With a start, Fink flung himself forward, upright into a seated position, waking himself from the nightmare. The bedding fell away as the darkness of the room filled his vision. What an awful dream.
He wasn’t at the pier. There were no boats, and Sydney was…
His hand skimmed over the mattress to his left.
Cold.
Turning, with his heart still thundering in his ears, he found her spot empty.
Immediately his gaze darted toward the bathroom.
The door was open, but the light was off.
No Sydney.
Calm down. She could have gotten the munchies. Maybe a midnight snack was in order?
Purposefully controlling his breathing, Fink climbed out of the bed. He forced slower steps than he wanted to take. There was no shaking the foreboding prickling his skin.
Deep in his bones, he knew she wasn’t there, but he had to check.
He had a bad dream. It wasn’t reality.
To be sure, he peeked into the bathroom. Empty.
The living room? Nope.
Clinging to the hope he’d find her, he trotted to the kitchen.
However, when he passed the table, a slip of lined paper caught his eye. Pausing, he reached for it as he flicked on the overhead light.
In her bubbly handwriting, Sydney had scribbled:
Had to take care of something real quick.
I won’t be long.
Love,
Sydney
Fink clenched his jaw. What the hell was she talking about? Nothing required her attention at whatever fucking hour it was. Fink crumpled the paper as his hand shook.
The only thing she could do tonight was get into trouble.
Pulling out his phone, he tapped the app he’d installed that would allow for tracking the burner cell he’d given Sydney.
When her location popped up, he furrowed his brow. What the hell was she doing there? Shaking his head, he tucked his cell into the pocket of his flannel pants. If he didn’t get to her in time, she’d fuck everything up.
And he’d be damned if he’d let that happen.