Wild Justice

CHAPTER 22

Evelyn settled in. “The first order of business, apparently, is keeping someone from getting herself killed.”

“Don’t you love how she says that,” I said. “Getting myself killed.”

“You know there’s a price on your head. Therefore, if someone manages to collect that bounty, it’s through your own carelessness, isn’t it?”

“My carelessness,” Jack said. “I got her into this.”

“You didn’t—” I began.

“Enough,” Evelyn said. “I was needling Dee, not provoking a blame war. I’m sure you’re both equally responsible for what happened.”

“Um, no,” I said. “The guy who put out the hit is responsible. Now our job is finding out who that was.”

“No,” Evelyn said. “Your job is making sure Roland doesn’t realize you killed his pro. You seem to be making a habit of that.”

“We’re narrowing the job field. It was getting crowded.”

She snorted. “You know, I’d be impressed if I thought that’s what you were really doing. If you develop a taste for weeding out idiots, I could give you a few names.”

“Roland,” Jack said.

“Back to business,” Evelyn said. “Well, the last time you two got yourselves into this kind of mess, I managed to convince the middleman to hire Dee to replace the missing pro. That’s not going to work here.”

“Because Roland’s not stupid enough to hire a mark to kill herself?”

“No, because Jack here pissed Roland off so badly that the man would probably send a pro after me if I so much as called him.”

I glanced at Jack. “Something you forgot to mention?”

Jack frowned. “Roland?”

“Nineteen eighty-nine,” Evelyn said. “He wanted to hire you for a job. You said no, and he came to me, pushing hard, and when that failed, he resorted to threats. So you killed his dog.”

I turned on Jack. “You did what?”

Evelyn chuckled. “Oh, now you’re in trouble, Jacko. That string of bodies in your wake doesn’t bother our girl very much. But a dog?” She shook her head.

“Wasn’t like that,” Jack said. “Threatened me. Went to have a talk. There was a dog.”

“And Jack murdered the poor beast as payback—” Evelyn began.

“Fuck off,” Jack said, shooting her a glare. “Sicced the dog on me. Vicious brute. Didn’t have a choice.”

“You couldn’t just wing him?” I said.

Now I was the one getting the look. I grinned and rubbed his leg with my foot. “I’m kidding. Under the circumstances, I’ll accept the killing of the dog.”

He looked at Evelyn. “That was Roland?”

“My God, you are getting old. Or course, admittedly, it does take work to keep track of everyone you’ve pissed off over the years.”

“Memory’s fine. Especially for enemies. I’m sure it wasn’t Roland.”

Evelyn turned to me. “So Jack killed his dog, and then he tied Roland to his bed and took away the phone.”

“Huh,” Jack said. “That’s right. Wasn’t Roland, though.”

“What happened then?” I asked Evelyn.

“Nothing,” Evelyn said. “Jack left him there. The poor guy lived alone, him and the dog, a mile from the nearest neighbor. It was three days before one of Roland’s confederates came by and found him.”

“Three days?”

“Left him water,” Jack said.

Evelyn turned to me. “The dog’s water dish was beside the bed.”

“Food dish, too.”

I laughed.

“Roland didn’t think it was quite so amusing,” Evelyn said.

“Reggie,” Jack said. “That was the guy’s name. I remember now. Reggie outta Miami. Left the business . . .” Jack glanced at Evelyn. “Ah, fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed. The colleague who found him couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He made Reggie a laughingstock in the business. Reggie was smart enough to not say who’d tied him up and left him eating dog food, but his career as a middleman was over. He retired. Then, ten years ago, he got tired of the regular life and came back as Roland.”

“You never told me?” Jack said.

“You don’t deal with middlemen. There was no chance you were going to accidentally bump into him. It seemed best for all if I let him keep his cover.”

“But if you know who he really is, can’t we use that?” I asked.

“It’s been too long,” Jack said. “Seventeen years. No one left to remember. Just us.”

“And Roland,” Evelyn said. “I bet if you paid him a visit, he’d be happy to give you the name of his client. In return for getting the hell out of his life and staying there.” She paused. “I hear he has a new dog.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Great fucking plan. I show up. Demand to know who put out the hit on Dee. Who Roland knows by her real name. Linking her real life with me—a hitman.”

“We could work it so he never realizes that you know her or—”

“No risk.”

“Every plan has an element of risk and it’s a matter of managing—”

“Not this. Won’t risk tying Nadia to me. Or to you. Or to Dee.”

Tying me to my hitman identity is what he meant. After a minute, Evelyn conceded his point. I had a real life, outside of this one, and even if she thought that was absolute foolishness, she knew Jack wouldn’t do anything to ruin it.

We talked some more and settled on a reasonable plan.

“Dinner?” Jack said to me as the conversation ran down.

“We’re going out?” Evelyn said. “Excellent. I’ve heard there’s a wonderful—”

“Us,” Jack said. “Not you.”

“We just thought—” I began. “I mean, we know you don’t like steakhouses, and I owe Jack for all of his help so I offered to take him out . . .”

“You’re not invited,” Jack said to Evelyn.

I shot him a look. “Of course she’s welcome—”

“No, she’s not. Stop being polite. We have plans.”

“So I see,” Evelyn murmured. “And, yes, Dee, you are correct that I have no interest in dining at anyplace that considers burnt hunks of meat haute cuisine.”

“All right,” I said. “Well, give me a few minutes to shower and change into something a little nicer than . . .” I plucked at my T-shirt.

“Should shower, too.” Jack ran a hand over his face. “And shave. Forgot this morning.”

“You go first,” I said. “I’ll find us a restaurant.”

Jack patted my legs as I lifted them off his lap. I could feel Evelyn watching. Then her cell phone buzzed. She glanced down at it and went still.

“Everything okay?” I said.

“Of course. Just business. The usual idiots with the usual idiotic requests.” She got to her feet. “Why don’t I find that restaurant for you? And I wouldn’t worry about showering and shaving. Just wash up and—”

“I want to shave,” Jack said. “Not going someplace nice looking—”

“It’s a steakhouse. Just because the bill hits triple digits does not mean it qualifies as ‘someplace nice.’ We have work to do tonight, and I don’t have time to dawdle.” She waggled her phone. “I do have other responsibilities. Just wash your face and—”

Someone rapped on the door.

“I’ll get that,” Evelyn said. “You two go—”

“And use the washroom together? You really are in a hurry to get us out of here, aren’t you? Go shave, Jack. I’ll get ready in the bedroom.”

“Excellent,” Evelyn said. “Go on, Dee, and I’ll . . .”

She trailed off as I veered to the door and looked through the peephole. There was a guy in the hall. About six foot two. Midthirties. A ball cap pulled tight over short, light brown hair. Pleasantly good-looking with a square jaw. His most arresting feature was his eyes, bright blue, and they were contacts.

I took a deep breath. Then I opened the door.

“Quinn,” I said.