Page 77 of Player
Retreat.
Escape.
I wash my hands and return to the room. In a flurry of motion, I pull on my knickers and socks. Runners, shirt, and trousers in hand, I head for the door.
“Finn,” she calls out, confused.
“Got something to do,” I lie. “Forgot ... in all the excitement.”
“Right now? It’s after midnight.” Not buying what I’m selling. Observant, as usual.
I’m officially an arsewipe.
A coward.
A hitman—with a job to do.Best not forget that, bucko.
I’m doing her a favor by crushing any romantic notions she may be having. Because I had to go and run me mouth. I had to go misleading her into thinking this could be something. We could be something.
“See you in the morning.” I shut the door behind me.
Leaving behind the best of me.
And the worst.
