“No.”
“What?”
“That’s going to leave a bunch of little fake hairs everywhere.”Not to mention, that thing was covered in Grant’s blood.Nothing would tie her to his murder and Burke’s like leaving little pieces of Grant’s DNA at the scene of Burke’s demise.
If she insisted, instead of fighting with her, he’d throw it in the ocean before they did anything.
Reluctantly, she pulled it from the satchel.
“It didn’t matter back at your office because you were already there and it was Halloween.That is expected and can be explained away.Cheap plastic wigs will raise more questions than we’d like.”
She snorted.“You don’t think stringing him up on a crane is going to leave people wondering?”
“That’s different,” he said as he rested his interlaced hands over his stomach.“That’s a purposeful message.Hairs everywhere isn’t.”
She let out a frustrated growl.“Then what do you suggest?A balaclava?”She wrinkled her nose.“How tacky.”
He hadn’t really thought too much about concealing her identity.In all his planning, he hadn’t considered what they’d do.They would be states away, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be traced.
“How do you make your hair blue?”she asked as she sat on the bed beside him.
He closed his eyes as she stroked her fingers through the short dark strands atop his head.He loved the feeling of little pets.
“Washable dye,” he said.Apparently, she hadn’t seen everything in the box.“It acts like a sealing gel when I slap it on super thick.That way, none of my hair moves or sheds.”
Glancing to her left, she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.“Your hair is much shorter than mine.”
His chest shook with a bit of a snigger.“Astute observation.”
She glared at him.
“What?It’s a skill you’re going to need if we move forward,” he reminded.
Rolling her eyes, she sighed.“I don’t see why I can’t do the same.”
“There isn’t enough in the tin.”He used a hell of a lot to make sure not a single strand on his head moved.
“Then we can get a new one,” she suggested, wearing a bright smile.“Blue isn’t my color, anyway.”
“Oh?”He quirked a brow.
“Yeah, I think I’m more of a red kind of woman.”
Wrapping his arms around her, he tugged her down against him.“You’resome kind of woman, alright.”
Histype of woman.There wasn’t a damn detail he would change about her.He hadn’t laughed this much in his entire life.She brought sunshine into his gloomy existence.Not that he’d been aware of how muted his reality had become until she strolled onto his murder scene.
Ever since meeting her and navigating what to do next, he felt alive again.Kills weren’t the method to invigorate his soul.Fucking her within an inch of her life definitely took the edge off.
He had gotten far too accustomed to being around her.When the time came for them to part ways—nope.He wasn’t going to think about that right now.Years ago, when he started on this career path, he learned survival meant living in the moment and taking nothing for granted.
Looking back or forward robbed him of what was in front of him.Right now, that was Sydney, and there was nothing he wanted to focus on more than her.
A series of chimes interrupted their impromptu cuddle session.
“Time to go,” she sang as she leaped off the bed full of glee and excitement.
There was most certainly something wrong with this woman—whatever that was, it was beautiful and delicious.He loved everything about her.
