Wild Justice

CHAPTER 46

We left Chicago. I was driving, but it quickly became apparent that Jack wasn’t going to take advantage of the chance to rest. I pulled over and let him take the wheel. He was stressed and anxious, and it gave him something to do.

Jack had contacted a private-investigator associate—the man he’d used to help him find Drew Aldrich. He was having him dig for any clues on the mystery partner, and we were going to meet up with him in Detroit. Our final destination was New York. Our best lead was there, with the Contrapasso Fellowship.

I napped after that. When I woke, it was after six, and I suggested Jack might want a coffee if he planned to keep the wheel all the way to Detroit.

“Wouldn’t mind a walk,” he said. “Stretch my legs.”

“Absolutely.”

“Saw a sign for a park. ’Bout five miles.”

“We’ll stop there.”

A couple minutes of silence. “Want to talk, too. Some stuff. That okay?”

I smiled. “I am always up for talking.”

“More like listening.”

“I can do that, too.”

We pulled in at the park. It was a small one, unmanned, with signs warning it was closed at night. Dusk was still a couple of hours away, but the tiny lot was already empty.

We parked and headed in.

“Don’t really need the walk,” Jack said as we reached the path. “Just wanted to talk. Not in the car.”

“Okay.”

He lapsed into silence. We walked about half a kilometer before he continued.

“Was thinking. About our talk earlier. Your lodge. Me having money. Got me thinking. I know about you. Where you live. How you live. You don’t know that about me.”

“Not for lack of interest, Jack. If you wanted to tell me, I figured you would, and if you didn’t, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pry.”

“Ask then.”

I hesitated, but I could tell he seriously wanted me to ask. “Okay, where do you live when you’re not on the road? You’ve got a house somewhere, I presume. A condo or something.”

“Nope. Got mailing addresses. Couple post boxes, here and there. Otherwise? Nothing. No house. No apartment. Not even a fucking car. Between jobs? Find a place to stay. Motel usually. Sublet sometimes.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Always. Never saw the point of owning. Leaves a paper trail. I travel too much anyway. No reason to stay in one place.”

“So you’ve never been married, I take it?”

He gave me a look.

“Hey, it’s a perfectly valid question. I take it that’s a no. Any kids?”

Another look. “I would have mentioned that.”

I met his gaze. “There were times when, for all I knew, you had a wife, kids, a house in the suburbs and a day job in Connecticut. Yes, I was pretty sure you didn’t, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.”

He nodded. “Should have said more.”

“No, I understood the need for privacy. Now, though, I will ask, and if there’s anything you don’t want to share, just say so.”

“There’s nothing. You want to know? I’ll tell you.” A few more steps in silence. “So, don’t have a house. Or car. Got a few storage lockers. Mostly equipment. Clothing? Buy it as I go. Don’t really have things. Just money. No bad habits to spend it on. Don’t gamble. Don’t use drugs. Don’t drink much. Worst habit? Damn cigarettes. Maybe a pack a week. Doesn’t exactly make a dent in my savings.”

“No, I imagine it doesn’t. And I don’t think I’ve seen you smoke one in a few days.”

“Yeah. Might be wishing for one in a minute.” He cleared his throat. “Asked if I’ve ever been married. Fuck no. Said before about relationships. Don’t do ’em. Should explain better. Don’t really want to.”

“Then don’t.”

“No. Get it out. Make sure you understand. However awkward this is.”

We rounded the next curve in the path before he continued, “Don’t do relationships. Don’t date. One night? Yeah.” He paused. “Even that? Been a while. Getting older. Too much hassle.”

He steered me around a patch of mud. “Probably more than you want to know. More than I should say. Just proof that I don’t know shit about doing this right. Point is, I’m going to fuck up.” He paused. “Don’t mean screw around. Wouldn’t do that. Mean in general. Last time I dated? High school. And, as I’ve said, I dropped out after two years. So . . .” A sigh. “Fuck. That’s embarrassing.”

I laughed. “I didn’t expect you’d have a string of girlfriends across the country. Too much work and too much risk. I’m not exactly an expert in the field myself, as my disaster with Quinn might suggest. I’ve been engaged, as you know. When that ended and the Wayne Franco thing blew up—at the same time—I backed out of the dating scene. So I have no expectations, Jack. I wouldn’t anyway. That’s not how I am.”

“I know. Just wanted you to understand. Don’t have to worry you’ll find out. Which brings up something else. About Quinn.”

I must have stiffened, because he looked over quickly. “Not that. Not even Quinn really. About you two.” He paused. “No, not you two. Like that. Just . . . Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want to say, Jack.”

“You mentioned expectations. Want to talk about that. Different expectations. Awkward conversation, though. We just get together and I say, here’s what I expect? Like I’ve got a right to expect anything.”

“You do,” I said, looking over at him. “It’s not as if we just met, and you’re right—even if it seems early to be laying out expectations, it doesn’t take long before it’s too late, and both parties are headed down very different paths.”

“Yeah.”

We reached a fork in the trail. I thought that’s what stopped Jack from continuing, but even after we started down one, he said nothing.

“Do you want me to go first?” I asked.

“No. Got this. What do I expect? No, not expect. Want. Anything you don’t—”

“Jack, stop qualifying. You’re only going to make the conversation longer and I’m sure you’ve had enough of it already.”

A short laugh. “Yeah. All right. I want a relationship. A committed relationship. Marriage? Can’t offer that. Legally? The guy I was? John Daly? Long gone. Presumed dead. Can’t come back. Ever. Otherwise? Got three surnames. Don’t consider any of them mine. None are legal. It’s just Jack. Can’t marry like that. Kids? Never considered it. No real opinion on it. You wanted one? We could figure something out. Wouldn’t be easy, though. My past. My identity. Makes everything tough.”

“I don’t want children, Jack. And I don’t need a wedding band to be in a committed relationship.”

“All right. Good. Not that I expect . . . Fuck. Been two days. I’m already talking about that.”

“You’re talking about long-term possibilities and laying out the issues, which I’m absolutely fine with.” I glanced at him. “Just as I’m fine with a scenario where someday those would be questions we had to consider.”

“Good. All right. So that’s what I can’t do. What I want to do?” Three more steps. Then he turned, his hands going to my hips, stopping me and holding me there as he looked me in the eye. “You know I’m tired of the job, Nadia. Not ready to get out. But ready to start moving that way. I want something else. Something more. Something with you.”

I pressed my lips to his and murmured, “Good.”

He exhaled and kissed me back, and I could taste the relief in his kiss. He was right. This was difficult, putting ourselves out there for rejection, admitting what we wanted. Hell, after three years of not even daring to say that I expected to see him again, there was a part of me that was terrified of even admitting I wanted more than a fling. But he did. And that was, as I said, good.

“So you’re fine with that?” Jack said as he pulled back. “Me spending more time at the lodge? Maybe staying? Between jobs?”

“I am absolutely fine with it. I’ll just need to strike the right balance between taking advantage of having an extra pair of hands around the place and not giving you so much work that you’re scouring the papers, looking for someone to kill, so you can get a break.”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t happen. I like keeping busy. I just . . . I want to be sure it’s all right. That’s your place. Your personal place. And I know you never brought . . .”

He trailed off before saying Quinn’s name.

I nodded. “I kept telling myself that I was just waiting for the right time to introduce him, but I don’t think that was it. It was . . . it was different. You’ve been honest, so I’m going to take the same chance, even if it doesn’t exactly reflect well on me.” I looked up at him. “I was with Quinn because there was no reason not to be. We got along. I liked him as a friend. The guy I really wanted to be with wasn’t showing any signs that he felt the same. So I settled for what I could get.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sor—”

“Yeah, I do. You know how long I’ve been wanting this? Since the third time I came to see you. Hell, maybe from the first time. I just didn’t realize it until the third. I was driving to see you. Had no reason to. Made an excuse. So I’m driving there. Got stuck at the border. Customs backup. Impatient as hell. Worried I’d get there too late. You’d be tired. Wouldn’t want to talk. That’s when I realized it. How I felt. Turned around. Pulled into the nearest pay phone. Called and said I couldn’t make it.”

“I remember that.”

“Yeah. Turned tail and ran. Month later? Talked myself down. You needed help. I could give it. Shouldn’t turn my back on you. Keep it what it was. Good enough. So I went back. Three fucking years of that. Run away. Come back. Try to be what you needed. What I thought you wanted. Even if I’d thought you wanted more? Not sure it would have changed anything. Getting involved with me? Fucking stupid. No point. Got nothing to offer. You deserve better.”

I tried to cut in, but he wouldn’t let me.

“If I cared about you?” he continued. “I’d want what’s best for you. Which is not me. Quinn comes along? Start thinking maybe that’s it. Much as it hurt. Seemed good for you. Tried to rise above it. Couldn’t fucking do it. Ran again. Left you hanging.”

“Egypt,” I murmured. When Jack had begun staring the possibility of retirement in the face, we’d discussed things he might want to do. There wasn’t much on his list, but he did want to see Egypt. Just not alone. So I’d offered to go, and it seemed like a plan and then . . . and then it wasn’t.

“Yeah. I knew if we went? The two of us? On vacation? I’d let you know. So I stayed away. Hurt you more. Confused you and hurt you. Eventually, decided I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pretend. If I saw any sign you weren’t happy with Quinn? I was going to move. Stop whining that you deserved better. Take the risk. Be what you deserve. Make you happy.”

“You have always made me happy, Jack. You have always been what I deserve.” I put my arms around his neck as he lowered his mouth to mine. “And you have always been what I want.”

We lay on the forest floor, clothing scattered around us. It was getting cool, the sun dropping, but Jack hadn’t made a move to dress yet, so I wasn’t, either. I stretched out against him and enjoyed the moment. When he finally did stir, I rolled onto my side, but he reached out and tugged me back.

“Cold?” he said.

“Nope.”

“Few more minutes. No rush. Meeting my contact in the morning. So . . .” He stifled a yawn. “No rush.”

“Good.” I curled up against him. Something crackled under me. The condom wrapper. I pulled it out and lifted it. “May I suggest that after all this is over, we get a clean bill of health and I get myself on birth control? Otherwise, we may need to start buying in bulk.”

A chuckle. Then he sobered. “You want me to slow down? Just say so.”

“Yes, yes, I do, because I am very clearly not enjoying it. Can’t you tell by the way I just lay there, quietly. Very quietly.”

Another chuckle.

“If I want you to slow down, Jack, I will tell you to slow down. Admittedly, we are going through these”—I flicked the condom wrapper—“a little fast, but we’re both anxious and stressed and frustrated over this hit business. I don’t know about you, but it definitely helps for me.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s stress relief. That’s my excuse and it’s a damned good one, so I’m sticking to it.”

He laughed and pulled me into a kiss. When we separated, he looked up at the darkening sky. “Could stay here. Quiet. No hitmen.”

“Always a bonus.”

“It is. I—”

My cell phone rang, the sound muffled. I glanced toward my jeans, a few feet away.

“So much for quiet.”

Jack rose and snagged my jeans and tugged out the still-ringing phone.

“If it’s the guy who’s trying to kill me, take a message,” I said.

“Nah. Almost as bad. Evelyn.” He lifted the phone. “You want me . . . ?”

“No, I’ll take it.”

He handed it over, and I answered.

“It’s me,” she said. “I tried calling Jack, but he’s not answering his phone.”

“I think he left it in the car.”

“You’re not in the car?”

“Nope.”

“Where are you?”

I looked around. “A park. We went for a walk.”

She grumbled at the preposterousness of that. Hitmen apparently did not take walks, unless they were stalking someone.

“Okay, then, where is this park? How far are you?”

“Mmm, I dunno. Few hours from Chicago?”

“Either I just woke you up from a lovely nap or . . .” She paused. “A walk, was it? Well, I did tell you to make him happy. That’s one way.”

“It is.” I stifled a yawn. “We’re on schedule. I know that much. Do you want to talk to Jack?”

“Actually, I need to speak to both of you. Does that thing have a speaker?”

“Mmm, huh. Apparently, it does.”

“Then use it and try to wake up. Give Jack a shake, too. I’m sure he’s not in much better shape.”

I put her on speakerphone. I expected her to make some comment to Jack about what we’d been doing. When she led with, “We have a problem,” instead, I sat up quickly, drowsiness falling away.

“I need you to head back to the car,” she said. “Now.”

“Um . . .” I looked at our scattered clothing. “Right.”

I tugged my jeans over as Jack grabbed his. We tried to be quiet about it, but the sound must have carried.

Evelyn sighed. “Get dressed and then head back to the car. Quickly, please.”

“Keep talking,” Jack said. “We’re moving.”

“I got our answers from the Contrapasso guys,” Evelyn said.

“What cost?” Jack asked.

“We’ll discuss that later. For now, what’s far more important—”

“That’s important,” Jack said. “What did you—?”

“It’s okay,” I said as I pushed to my feet. “Evelyn’s right. We can get that later.”

Jack and I started walking, quickly, back along the darkening path as I asked Evelyn, “What’s wrong?”

“The Contrapasso Fellowship did not order a hit on Drew Aldrich.”

“Wh-what? Sorry. I heard you. I just . . . They didn’t order the hit? But I’m sure Koss killed him. Are they saying he didn’t?” I paused. “No, they’re saying Koss isn’t one of them. That’s where we made the wrong connection.”

“No, the connection was correct. Sebastian Koss is a part of Contrapasso. They confirmed he’s been a high-level member for years, and his primary role is bringing them cases exactly like Aldrich.”

“So they rejected Aldrich, and Koss took matters into his own hands.”

“No. Drew Aldrich’s name isn’t in their files. No one there has ever heard of him. Koss acted completely on his own.”

I swore. “So what does that mean?”

“I have no idea, and it’s not important right now. The point is that to get this information from them I had to tell them about Aldrich, obviously. And about Sebastian Koss and the fact that he used a car rented by their fleet. Now they want answers. From Koss. They’re going after him and once they get to him, we lose him. He disappears into their custody until they sort this out, and they won’t give a rat’s ass about you, Dee. Anything Koss knows is about to disappear with him.”