Imagine that.
This fantastic guy, who murdered people for a living, could be the same person who amassed a massive number of Barbies or something.The room could be decked out in that obnoxiously bright pink.
She snickered to herself at the absurdity.In reality, she was more likely to run into an area full of torture devices.Cocking her head to the side, she considered what it would be like to stumble upon Fink’s red room of kinks.That would be kind of cool.
With her hand on the knob, she took a deep breath and braced herself for whatever was on the other side.
Twisting it, she closed her eyes and pushed it open, ready to reveal Fink’s deepest, darkest secret.
One lid lifted.She took a peek, and holy hell.
Using both of her eyes, she surveyed the space and cautiously stepped inside.
This was not expected.
Every wall had a bookshelf.Which was chock-full of texts.Big ones, small ones, thin ones, thick ones.A library.Fink had alibrary.Against the wall, below the window, sat a well-worn leather sofa with massive cushions and a floor lamp dangling over it.
It beckoned her, and who was Sydney to deny such a comfy-looking couch?Still taking in the room’s magnificence, she wandered inside, wondering what type of stories drew Fink in.Were they historical?Biographies?Could he be the Holy Grail?Would he be the kind of guy to read smutty books like her?
Snickering to herself, she plopped down onto the sofa and immediately groaned.She’d never sat in anything as divine as this.Running her fingers along the brown leather, she marveled at the craftsmanship.
There was something to be said for a man who collected books.What was he reading lately, anyway?On the windowsill behind the couch, she found one lone book.A metal feather hung out of it, marking where he’d left off.
Sucking in her lip, a surge of mischievousness burst through her.Technically, she hadn’t snooped.Though this was cutting it damn close.
By inviting herself into this space without his consent, she would learn details about him he wasn’t ready to tell her.Which was wrong, but damn, it felt too good to stop.Tracing her fingers over the back of the book, she lifted it, ready to discover a smidgeon of information about Fink that he had yet to reveal.
37
Fink
Thebedshifted.Themovement stirred Fink awake.Whether it be through training or his nature, he wasn’t a solid sleeper.The slightest disturbance could rouse him.Honestly, in his line of work, this tendency was for the best.Another useful skill born out of trauma.
In the darkness, he watched Sydney grope her way to the bathroom.Nothing to be concerned about.Closing his eyes, he sought to resume slumber.He tugged the covers over his shoulder as he rolled onto his side, careful to leave a nice nook for her to return to.
He’d always imagined sleeping beside someone would make things difficult for him.If they snored or moved too much, he assumed it would wake him.However, with Sydney, that hadn’t been the case.If anything, he got deeper sleep.He felt more rested in the morning.
Odd, but he wasn’t about to question their dynamic.
The ever so slight creak of the bathroom door signaled she had completed her business.He should raise the blanket and welcome her back in.That would be romantic.Wasn’t that what guys did in movies?
Fink wasn’t one to keep up with pop culture, so he couldn’t be sure.Though contemplating it for this long rendered the sentiment moot.She should be back in bed by now.
Except she wasn’t.Strange.
Lifting his eyelids again, he scanned the darkness.His bedroom door was shut.The one for the bathroom was open.All the lights were off.Sydney wasn’t with him.She wasn’t in the room.
Where had she gone?
And why?
What the hell time was it?
Turning toward the clock on his nightstand, he noted it was after three o’clock in the morning.Why was she up?
His hackles rose.
His heart picked up the pace but wasn’t quite thundering in his chest.He hadn’t crossed the threshold of panic yet, but alarm bells had sounded.The floorboards of the old hallway whined as she moved through his home.
