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.
52
Sydney
Sittinginhercarat three o’clock in the morning in the middle of a quiet tree-lined neighborhood was a bad idea.Sydney was new at this, but she’d figured that out.If anyone was awake, they’d notice her.
Someone would call the cops about a suspicious sedan parked on the street any minute.
She should’ve planned better.Fink was right.Being impulsive was bad.It’d lead to a thousand mistakes.The biggest one being the fact that she hadn’t researched which homes had doorbell cameras and showed up in her personal vehicle.There had to be twenty trained on her right now.Her car would totally be linked to the scene.
How could she be so stupid?
Those were problems for another day.She was in this position because eliminating the threat to her future had to be done.
She had to take care of her problem before it became Fink’s.She had to eliminate the liability.Closing her eyes, curling her fingers around the steering wheel, she had to come up with a strategy—a better one.
Originally, she thought she could go with a home invasion gone awry.Break-ins were common during the holiday season.It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.
However, she hadn’t gotten an unmarked van or dressed the part of a burglar.She’d just shown up, gun in hand, ready to pull the trigger and maybe steal a few family heirlooms out of the china cabinet.
Did he have one of those?
She hadn’t a clue.She hadn’t researched a damn thing about the guy.
What if he had a dog?Cops loved dogs.It was probably a retired drug-sniffing dog.
Jesus Christ, she’d be caught, and they’d put the damn dog on the stand to identify her.
Sydney hung her head and gently banged it against the steering wheel.What the fuck was wrong with her?
She had to go back.Without a clear strategy, she’d screw this entire thing up worse than it already was.She should’ve organized this better.
But she didn’t have time.If Detective Morris was sniffing around now, giving him days would only make matters worse.He’d find something.She wasn’t sure how, but it was likely she’d fucked up somewhere.
Knock.Knock.Knock.
Sydney’s life flashed before her eyes, and she recoiled in the driver’s seat.
This was it.This was how she ruined her happiness with Fink.It wouldn’t be the detective’s fault.It was all hers.Getting caught stalking him was the nail in her coffin.
Turning toward her window, expecting to see an officer, she was perplexed to find blackness.
A T-shirt.Not a uniform.No silver buttons.There wasn’t a badge.Nothing.Only plain clothes with plaid pants.Pajama pants.
“Fink?”she said as she tapped the button to roll down the window.“What are you doing here?”
