Pursing her lips, she flopped onto her couch.Rolling the bottle in her hand, she noted the black paint from his face had transferred to the bottle.Evidence.If she wanted to, she could totally pin this whole murder on him.
His DNA was inside her and all over her.No fingerprints, though.He’d worn gloves.At the very least, she could put him at the party.She supposed if push came to shove and she would have to save herself, she could sell him up the river.
Immediately, she wrinkled her nose at the thought.Never.She was no snitch.That would be rude as hell.She couldn’t tell anyone what they’d done.It was their little secret.
Glancing toward the bedroom, she wondered if he felt the same.Would he turn her in if the cops came looking for him?There was nothing more blatantly obvious than the fact that this wasn’t his first murder.He took far too many precautions.He knew what he was doing.Someone didn’t get to be a professional like him without a few casualties.
She snorted at her own pun.
Either way, as a newbie, she could learn a lot from him.Would he teach her if she asked?Did she want him to?
Considering she’d recently become unemployed, this might be an unexpected opportunity.Statistically, didn’t people change career paths multiple times throughout their lives?She was due.This was her chance to grow and explore in life.
9
Fink
Thiswasbad.Therewas no way around it.Fink had fucked up.Pacing the small bedroom, he pulled the burner flip phone from his pocket and called the only number in it.With unease coiling in his gut, he brought the cell to his ear and listened to the rings.
“You’re late,” AJ, his handler, answered without a greeting.“Getting slow in your old age?”
Fink was thirty-five.He was by no means ancient, and if he wasn’t in a shit situation, he might actually banter with his old friend but not today.“I have a complication.”
Silence.
“I did it,” he quickly clarified.“It just wasn’t as in and out as I would’ve liked.”
Fink scrubbed his hand through the clumps of blue temporary hair dye.If he wasn’t wearing gloves, the sticky goo would annoy his fingers.
AJ still said nothing.
“I have a witness.”Well, not exactly.She was more than that.
“And you didn’t eliminate them?”AJ snapped.
Fink glanced toward the wall where he’d left the woman with whom he’d shared the kill.She’d told him her name.What was it again?Sydney.That was right.What a lovely moniker that hinted at the spunky quirkiness she embodied.
For half a second, he smiled, reminiscing about her grinning at him with excitement in her eyes after she’d stabbed Grant.
Were he thinking properly, he would’ve killed her, but she captivated him within seconds of meeting.
Logically, he should’ve.Observers weren’t permitted in his business.The easiest way to handle someone catching a murder in progress was to kill them too.Except she wasn’t a random bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.She’d assisted in the death of Grant.
They had bonded.
And fucked.
He ran his gloved fingers across his forehead.“Complicated.”
“There’s that word again.”
Yeah.Fink was well aware.
“You don’t do complicated.”
Apparently, he did now.
“Did they outrun?”
