Page 77 of Player

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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.

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