Sydney could be a weird anomaly.Someone who enjoyed spilling blood as much as he did.The only difference was that she hadn’t monetized that interest yet.
“Oh.”Her eyes widened slightly with recognition.“You think the cops will come tonight?”
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug.“If they do, I’ll be here.”
Not that he’d talk to them or anything, but he’d be around to supervise—get a feel for the investigation.
She nodded.Though he couldn’t tell if she truly understood.Maybe she really wasn’t part of his world.There was a possibility he had witnessed, and partaken in, her first murder.What an honor.
“Alright then.”She lifted onto her toes as she raised her arms over her head in a stretch.
In doing so, the tank top, which hugged her body, rose slightly and exposed her midriff.
Sydney wasn’t thin, but he wouldn’t call her plump either.She had some softness about her, especially in her middle.Seeing it made his mouth water.He wanted to taste her skin again.The brief sample he had earlier wasn’t nearly enough.
Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts.His dick chubbed in his pants.Fuck.Of all things he didn’t need, it was this.He shifted his focus to her face as she rubbed one of her eyes.
“Good night,” he offered, hoping it would give her permission to go into her room—alone.
The arrangement had to be that way.He had no business going in there.Nothing good could come of it.Complications.He had had enough of those.
“Sleep well,” she said before she disappeared.
He let out a heavy breath, but he couldn’t relax.
Sleeping after a kill was never an option.There was too much going on.Between putting distance between him and his victim and erasing any and all ties to the person, slumber was the last item on his agenda.
Those first forty-eight were busy.
Unfortunately, hanging out with Sydney meant some tasks were left undone.Thankfully, this was one of the cleaner contracts he had.He’d only arrived in town the day before and paid for his seedy motel in cash.There wasn’t much to clean up.
Well, except Sydney.Which he dealt with.
Sort of.
Whatever.The situation was a work in progress.
Pushing off the ottoman, he crept toward the high-top table.Glancing to his left, he noted she had mostly closed the bedroom door, leaving it slightly ajar.
The temptation to go in taunted him.He had to ignore it.There were more important responsibilities to attend to.Other thannotsleeping, he had to snoop.AJ required information about her to run a background check.Hopefully, he’d confirm everything she had told him.
Though he doubted AJ would discover that Jonathan Bailey, from theBridgertonseries, was her favorite actor.Whoever the hell that was.Fink had learned more than he wanted to but got what he needed from her.
Reaching for the chain of the floor lamp, he tugged, and the room went dark.The glow from the streetlamp outside her apartment came through the window, so he wasn’t in total blackness.The light was enough for him to maneuver around the unfamiliar space and avoid tripping.
After giving her bedroom door one more longing glance, he turned toward the table where she kept a stack of mail.Some of the envelopes were opened.Others were still sealed.She certainly hadn’t intended to have company.There was far too much personal information readily available and ripe for the picking.
Opening up the flip phone, he dialed AJ.They’d done their check-in which meant his handler wouldn’t answer.So, he wasn’t surprised when he got the voicemail.In a hushed voice, he gave AJ her name, address, driver’s license number, and a few of the facts she’d shared with him.When he ended the call, he surveyed the wealth of material she had carelessly left out.What would AJ do with it?
Any questions about whether this woman was a professional went out the window.Sydney was a regular person who happened to stumble upon something dark and dangerous.To her credit, she handled it amazingly well.
He paused as he sifted through her bills.Was that a good thing?
For him?
Absolutely.
12
